"Jamison is the only man here who has a motor boat, but you want to look out for him. He's as crooked as a corkscrew!"

"That's the impression I received when he fixed his price."

"Well," the stranger said in a moment, "I've got a little baggage up the street and I'll go and get it."

He was gone perhaps half an hour, and when he returned the boys saw an anxious expression on his face.

"Are you sure that man Jamison is going out with you tonight?" he asked.

"He said he would," was the reply.

"He's up there loading in whiskey," the boy, who had given his name as Samuel White, continued, "and has surrounded himself with about as tough a bunch of crooks as there is in all Alaska."

"Perhaps he wants them to help run the boat," suggested Tommy.

"No, there's something crooked on foot!" declared Sam. "The fellows are whispering together in a bar-room up the street, and pounding the tables, and letting cut great shouts of laughter as if they had a good joke on some one."

"Do you know any of the men with Jamison?" asked Frank.

"One of them," the boy replied, "is a crooked mine agent, and one is a fellow who hangs around town without revealing any business whatever, but seems to have plenty of money."

While the boys talked, Jamison, accompanied by two men who seemed to be somewhat under the influence of liquor, came down to the dock.

After nodding familiarly to the lads, he gave a signal with a lantern which he carried in his hand, and in a short time a very capable looking motor boat came puffing out of the darkness.

"There you are, boys!" he said. "Jump in, and I'll have you up to Cordova in no time. I've got a good crew on board, and I may be able to get you back long before noon."

The boys did not exactly like the looks of the "good" crew, but they said nothing as they took their seats in the little trunk cabin and waited for the boat to get under motion.

When at last the motors began whirling and the rocking motion told the lads that they were out among the high waves, Jamison came in and seated himself by Tommy's side.

"Little bit bumpy tonight," he said, "but you'll soon get used to that. If you have the money ready, I'll collect fares now."

Frank took two hundred dollars in bank notes from a pocket and passed it over to the owner of the boat.

"A hundred apiece," Jamison said. "I was to have a hundred for each passenger. You owe me a hundred more."

"Don't pay any hundred for me," Sam White exclaimed, springing to his feet. "I'll jump overboard and swim back."

Frank laid a hand on the boy's arm and pushed him back into a seat.

"It's all right," he said. "I did agree to pay a hundred dollars a passenger. You're quite welcome to the ride at my expense."

As Frank spoke he took a roll of bank notes from another pocket and stripped off one of the denomination of one hundred dollars.

Jamison saw large denominations, some as high as five hundred dollars, in the roll, and his evil eyes glittered greedily.

When Frank put up the roll, the fellow's eyes followed it until it passed out of sight in the pocket. Other members of the crew had seen the money also, and Tommy was decidedly uncomfortable as he thought of the situation they were in.

Having received his pay, Jamison grew very friendly and confidential, and began pointing out the show places along the dim coast.

Presently Sam whispered cautiously in Tommy's ear:

"He is headed for the Barren islands, and not Cordova," he said.



CHAPTER VIII

ON THE GULF OF ALASKA

"Where are the Barren islands, and why should he want to take us there?" asked Tommy, apprehensively.

"The Barren islands," replied Sam, "lie in the Gulf of Alaska, just south of the mouth of Copper river, west of Controller bay. They extend along the coast, only a short distance out, for twenty miles or more, and are just what the local name signifies, Barren islands."

"But why should he want to take us there?" insisted Tommy, slipping a hand toward his hip pocket to make sure that his automatic was ready for any emergency.

Sam did not answer the question, for Tommy's quick start of surprise, his low exclamation of dismay, checked the words which were on his lips. Instead, he pushed closer to the lad and asked:

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"My revolver has been taken!" replied Tommy.

Frank, sitting close to his chum on the other side, now pushed his hand into his hip pocket and brought it forth empty.

"So is mine!" he said.

The boys looked at each other for a moment in the gathering darkness without speaking. The situation was a serious one.

"Who did it?" asked Tommy presently.

"No one has been near me except that man Jamison," replied Frank.

"He's the only one who's been within reaching distance of me," Tommy observed. "He must be a clever pickpocket!"

"I saw him eyeing that roll of money rather greedily," Sam cut in, speaking in a very low tone, for Jamison had new turned back from the prow and was looking in their direction.

"I noticed that, too," Frank answered. "I'm afraid we're going to get into trouble with that gink. Anyway," he continued, "he's started in right. He did well to get our guns before he started anything!"

"He didn't get my revolver," Sam said with a low chuckle. "It's a little bit of a baby thing, but it's a great deal better than none!"

"It will shoot, won't it?" asked Tommy.

"It will shoot, all right, but it's only a twenty-two," replied the boy. "I've been trying for the last two days to get a square meal on it, but couldn't get even a ham sandwich. They don't look with favor on baby guns up in Alaska. They want the real thing!"

"Well, keep your gun where you can reach it at any moment!" advised Frank. "Even a twenty-two caliber may prove effective at short range."

"I presume," Sam went on, "that my coming on board in shabby clothes, and as an object of charity, convinced Jamison that I wasn't worth searching. I saw him looking me over, though!"

"Object of charity—not!" returned Frank. "We're mighty glad you're with us right now! You say he's taking us to the Barren islands. Well, we wouldn't know the Barren islands from any other place without you. You've put us on our guard, at least, and that's worth more than the price of the ticket! We're glad of your company, too!"

"Now, see here, boys," Tommy whispered, "we mustn't let this man Jamison know that we have discovered that we have been robbed. The minute he knows that we are suspicious of him, the matter will come to a focus immediately. We've got to have time to think this matter over before anything is done."

This plan of action was agreed to, and the boys sat for some minutes in silence. After a time Jamison came to where they were seated, just at the doorway of the trunk cabin, and began asking questions about the need for a doctor. Tommy explained that a member of their party had been injured by a fall, and that they were going to Cordova in quest of a surgeon. He again asked Jamison to put on full speed.

"There's a man over here on the coast, this side of Katalla, who is said to be a fine surgeon," Jamison explained, after Tommy had finished his statement. "He's a sort of a recluse, people say, and lives alone in a shabby hut, high up above the tide. You might stop and consult him. That would be better, it seems to me, than going away up to Cordova. Still," he went on with a grim smile, "I've been paid to take you to Cordova and back, and, if you insist, I mean to live up to my bargain!"

Sam gave Frank a quick poke in the ribs and whispered in his ear:

"Yes, he does!"

"Let him play out his string," whispered Frank in return.

"This surgeon," Jamison went on, "is a queer old fellow. Sometimes he'll take a case, and sometimes he won't. If he feels in an ugly mood, he's likely to kick us out of his cabin."

Tommy listened with apparent interest to what the treacherous Jamison was saying, but it is needless to remark that he did not accept it as truth. It was his belief that the fellow was manufacturing a pretext for getting himself and his friends quietly on shore as soon as one of the Barren islands was reached.

There were three men on board the motor boat besides Jamison. They were evil-looking fellows, and spent most of their time on the forward deck, where the steering wheel and the motors were located.

The men frequently drank out of a black bottle, and were fast becoming intoxicated. Instead of attempting to restrain the fellows, Jamison seemed to encourage them in their debauch.

"He's getting them in trim to start something," Sam whispered, as the three men broke into a rough drinking song.

"Yes," agreed Tommy, "I imagine that he wants whatever takes place on board the boat tonight to be regarded as the acts of men made irresponsible by whisky. You'd better keep your gun handy, Sam!"

"I've got my hand on it every minute!" replied the boy. "And if anything is started here, Jamison will be the first one to know that I've got it! He's the man that needs the lesson!"

It was very dark now, and the sea was rough. The motor boat plunged about like a leaf, tossing from wave to wave, and dropping into one trough after another. It was plain that the members of the crew were becoming too drunk to handle the boat.

Jamison finally approached the cabin doorway and sat down on one of the stationary seats. Notwithstanding the fact that the boat was taking water at almost every jump, the fellow's face bore a satisfied look.

"What are those fellows trying to do with the boat?" asked Tommy.

"Oh, they're all right!" answered Jamison.

"Looks to me like they were trying to drop us to the bottom," Frank said. "There won't be any boat left directly!"

"I guess they have got a little too much John Barleycorn on board!" laughed Jamison, as the boat gave a lurch which sent him head foremost from his seat. "I'd go and take the wheel myself, only I don't know much about running a motor boat under present conditions."

Frank gave Tommy a quick nudge in the side.

"I can run the boat," he whispered, "shall I?"

"If he'd let you, yes!" replied Tommy.

"Where shall I take her?"

"To Cordova, of course, but perhaps you'd better wait until the men get a little bit drunker. Jamison will become frightened for the safety of his boat before long, and then he won't object to your taking charge of her. He's beginning to look sick already."

"If I ever get hold of that wheel," Frank whispered to Tommy, "I'll send her flying toward Cordova! I hope the members of the crew will be too drunk to know which, way I'm taking them."

Directly the boat gave another tremendous lurch, soaking the boys with cold salt water. Jamison rose to his feet with an oath and, steadying himself by clinging to the top of the cabin, shook a fist angrily at the man at the wheel. The man frowned back.

"What are you doing, you drunken hobo?" shouted Jamison.

The man grinned foolishly but said not a word.

"I wish I knew how to operate a motor boat as well as he does when he's sober," gritted Jamison.

"The owner of a boat ought to know how to run her!" suggested Frank.

"I bought the boat only a few days ago," replied Jamison.

"Look here," Frank said, as the boat gave another sickening whirl, "I can run a boat all right. Shall I take hold?"

"No," replied Jamison sourly, "we've got to land!"

"But there is no place to land," urged Sam.

"There is a place on the point where the doctor lives," answered Jamison, "where we can land in a rowboat. I'm glad now that I brought the dinghy along with us. We can anchor the motor boat under the point and take refuge in the doctor's cabin until this storm blows over."

The boys were greatly disappointed at this decision on the part of Jamison, but they dare not argue the point with him for fear that he would suspect that they were watching his every movement.

In a few moments a dark bulk showed directly in front of the racing motor boat, and only the quick action of the man at the wheel prevented a collision with a bold headland which showed dimly under the light of the few stars which looked down from the cloudy sky.

In a moment the boys saw a light, and then Sam whispered to Frank:

"That's not a coast point," he said. "It's one of the Barren islands. I don't believe there's any doctor there, as he said! What shall we do if he asks us to go ashore?"

"We'll have to go, I suppose," returned Tommy, "but, all the same," he went on, "if we get a chance to get possession of the boat, we'll let these outlaws take a swim to the shore!"

Presently the boat came under the shelter of the headland, and then a member of the crew, in obedience to whispered orders from Jamison, dropped into the dinghy which had been trailing behind, and shouted to his mate to follow. Then Jamison himself stepped into the dinghy, which was swinging about wildly in the surf.

"Now boys," he said, "if you'll get aboard, we'll take you ashore for an interview with the doctor. He'll demand big pay, but he's skillful and you ought to secure his services if you can."

"Only one man on board now," cried Tommy, "Now's our chance!"



CHAPTER IX

THE CLUES WILL FOUND

"I wish one of you boys would give me a good swift kick," George exclaimed as the three lads stood in the cabin discussing the strange disappearance of Bert Calkins.

"I'd do that all right if it would accomplish anything!" laughed Will.

"I'll do it anyhow, if you insist upon it!" grinned Sandy.

"It was a rotten thing for me to do!" exclaimed George. "I never expected to go to sleep when I lay down in my bunk, but I did go to sleep, and some one walked into the cabin and carried Bert away! I'll never get over it if anything serious happens to him!"

"Aw, cut it out!" exclaimed Sandy. "We'll find him all right. The question before the house right now is whether we're going to get supper before we start out on a hunt for the kid."

"We may as well get supper," Will advised. "There's no use whatever of our running around in circles in the dark. We've got to sit down here and reason it out. Before we do anything at all, we ought to reach some conclusion as to why the poor kid was taken away."

"Why, I thought that was all understood," Sandy interrupted. "I thought we decided not long ago that the man who stole the code wireless came back to get Bert to translate it for him."

"There was some talk of that kind," Will agreed, "and I guess it's as near to the truth as we can get with our present knowledge of the incident. Anyway, I can conceive of no other reason for the abduction."

"Then we may as well get supper while we're studying out the proposition," George said, "and, by way of penance, I'll do the cooking!"

The lad turned to Sandy to ask a question regarding the sudden appearance of the bear steak, and then for the first time noted his dilapidated and generally disreputable condition.

"Where did you get it?" he asked, pointing to the bruised face and torn garments. "You've gone and spoiled a perfectly good Boy Scout suit."

"And the bear we're going to have for supper," Will chuckled, "came very near spoiling a perfectly good Boy Scout."

"Did the bear hand him that?" asked George.

"He certainly did!" replied Sandy. "And he put me out for the count, too!"

"Then I'll take great joy in eating him!" declared George.

While George fried the bear steak over the gasoline "plate," Sandy told the story of the fishing trip, while Will listened with a grin on his face, now and then interrupting with what Sandy declared to be an entirely irrelevant remark.

The big acetylene lamp which, had come in with the boys' baggage had not been set up, so the cabin was now lighted only by flashlights. This made cooking difficult, and George protested against it, so Will went to work setting up the tank and getting the big lamp into use.

"That's better!" exclaimed George, as the great light flashed out. "Now, while I'm cooking the supper, you might look about and see what you can discover in the way of clues. There is an old theory, you know, that no person can enter a room and leave it without their leaving behind some trace of having been there!"

"That's a part of the Sherlock Holmes business that I entirely overlooked!" laughed Will. "Come to think of it, the fellow must have left some clue here. We'll see if we can find it!"

While Sandy and George worked industriously over the gasoline "plate," frying bear meat and fish, and making toast and coffee, Will began a thorough search of the cabin floor. He moved about for some moments on his hands and knees, studying the rough boards through a microscope.

When he came to the bunk he examined that in the same careful and painstaking way. Sandy and George pretended to be very much amused at his alleged posing as an investigator, but the boy paid no attention to their smiles and sarcastic remarks.

All through the meal Will kept his own counsel as to what he had discovered, if anything. His chums quizzed him unmercifully, but he gave out no information regarding discoveries until after the meal was completed and they sat, wrapped in their heavy coats, before the stripped table, now bearing only empty dishes.

"Now tell us about it!" demanded Sandy. "How tall was this man who carried Bert, away?"

"Five feet six," replied Will.

"Black or white?"

"Black hair and eyes and whiskers."

"Fat or lean?"

"Neither, just heavily built."

"Come, Smarty," Sandy laughed, "perhaps you'll be kind enough to go on now and tell us the color of his necktie."

"He didn't wear any necktie!" answered Will. "He wore a leather hunting shirt and leather leggings. His hands were protected from the mosquitos by leather gloves. He wore moccasins."

"Will you be kind enough to tell us what he had for supper last night?" asked Sandy. "Also, can you tell us which side he sleeps on nights?"

"This is no joke!" Will answered. "I really think I have a good description of the man who abducted Bert. And I think, too, that the description will serve to locate him."

"That's all right!" laughed George, "when Tommy comes back, we'll have him get out his dream book and read you to sleep!"

"Yes," Will said gravely, "when Tommy comes back with the surgeon."

"It would be a rotten proposition, wouldn't it, if Tommy should get back with the surgeon before we found Bert?"

"It certainly would," answered Will.

"Tommy can't possibly get back before some time tomorrow night," Sandy argued, "and we ought to be able to find the boy before that time!"

"Especially as Will has a perfect description of the outlaw," said George with a wink at Sandy.

Then the boy added with a laugh:

"Go on, Will, and tell us how you know the man's size and weight."

"Yes," Sandy broke in. "Tell us how you know he's exactly five feet six. You weren't here to measure him!"

"The wall measured him!" replied Will.

"Oh!" exclaimed Sandy with a grin.

"Back there by the door," Will went on, "the man leaned against the wall for some purpose. Of course, I don't know why, but I suspect that he leaned there for a moment to get the boy well balanced in his arms before stepping outside. At any rate, he stood there for an instant with a broad back braced against the dusty logs. You can see where the top of his head came, without getting up."

"That's reasonable!" replied Sandy. "Now tell us how you know he has black hair and eyes."

"He left half a dozen hairs on the pillow at Bert's bunk," replied Will. "Also he left coarser black hairs which evidently came from his face. They lie there on the table."

The boys examined the hairs curiously, and then Will asked:

"What do you think of it?"

"I think," replied Sandy, "that Bert regained consciousness while he was being lifted from the bunk and got in a couple of digs at the fellow's hair and whiskers."

"The motion which removed the hair and whiskers," suggested George, "might have been entirely involuntary."

"That's very true!" answered Will. "It doesn't seem to me that the boy regained consciousness. If he had, he would have made such objections to being taken away that George would have been awakened. At any rate the hairs are here, and that is sufficient!"

"Now tell us how you know about the bulk of the fellow."

"The marks on the wall show that," replied Will.

"What do you know about his leather leggings, hunting shirt and gloves?" asked Sandy. "I know about the moccasins, because I saw the tracks on the floor myself. He must be an Indian if he wore moccasins."

"I never saw an Indian with long whiskers!" replied Will.

"Well, go on and tell us about the leather he wore," urged George.

"The hunting shirt," Will replied with a smile, as he pointed to a small piece of leather lying on the table, "was patched and in the struggle at the bunk the patch was torn away. A cloth garment, you know," he continued, "wouldn't be apt to be patched with leather."

The boys looked at the leather patch, not much larger than a silver dollar, and nodded their heads.

"The marks on the wall where the outlaw seems to have balanced his burden, show that he wore leather gloves," Will continued. "You can see the blunt mark where he threw up a hand to steady himself. The fingers of a cloth glove would have shown narrower."

"I guess you've got the Sherlock Holmes part of it all right!" said George, "so all we've got to do now is to find the boy!"

"But this will help!" Sandy argued. "At least we know what kind of a man to look for. By the way, how did you know that he wore leather leggings?"

"He lost a buckle!" replied Will. "I found it on the floor under Bert's bunk. And so, you see," the boy went on, "when we find a man wearing leather leggings from which a buckle has been lost, we'll be perfectly justified in keeping close watch of him."

"It seems as if there must have been a struggle here!" George argued in a moment. "The man lost hair, whiskers, a buckle, and a patch off his hunting shirt! I don't see how I could have slept through it all!"

"Well, you did!" returned Sandy, "and that's all there is to it!"

"Are we going out tonight?" asked George.

"Of course, we are!" answered Sandy. "We're not going to crawl into bed in comfort and leave Bert in the hands of some brigand!"

Will held up his hand for silence, and the boys sat looking at each other with questioning eyes as a soft knock came on one of the windows.

In an instant their eyes were turned in the direction of the sound, and what they saw caused them to spring excitedly to their feet.

During the silence which followed, the sound of a heavy footstep was heard at the door of the cabin. When they looked again nothing was to be seen at the window.



CHAPTER X

IN LUCK AT LAST

Instead of moving toward the dinghy, the boys sprang to the top of the trunk cabin and dashed forward toward the wheel.

With an oath Jamison tried to clamber back to the deck of the motor boat, but the dinghy was just then performing a bit of nautical gymnastics at the bottom of a trough and he did not succeed in reaching the desired footing. He fell back into the bottom of the boat, cursing the two rowers because they had not assisted him.

As Frank and Tommy sprang forward over the cabin the man at the wheel released his hold and reached for a pistol. The boat swung around and would have been capsized only that Frank seized the wheel and brought her head to the waves again.

The wheelsman struck a savage blow at the boy as he threw the wheel around, and was in turn the object of attack from Tommy. The two went to the deck together and came near being thrown into the sea.

When the short battle ended the wheelsman lay on the deck unconscious, his head rolling from side to side as the boat tossed about on the waves. In the fall his head had struck the rail.

Seeing that Jamison and the rowers were still trying to board the motor boat, Sam rushed to the after deck and threatened them with his revolver. In a moment Jamison presented a thirty-eight at the boy's head.

"This is piracy!" he shouted. "Surrender, or I'll blow your head off! This is piracy, I tell you!"

The only reply to the man's threat was the increased clatter of the motors. Tommy had turned on full power, and Frank was heading the craft for the mouth of Copper river. As she drew away from the dinghy, several harmless shots were fired.

"That was a close shave!" Tommy declared as the three boys gathered on the forward deck. "If Jamison hadn't been a fool, we couldn't have done it! Can you find your way to Cordova, Frank?" he added.

"Sure I can!" was the reply, "but I take it that we don't want to go there just now."

"And why not?" asked Tommy is surprise.

"Because this is piracy, all right!" exclaimed the boy. "Old Jamison was right, and he'll have all the officers along the coast after us as soon as he gets to land. We're in bad with the cops now."

"But Jamison won't be able to get to land tonight!" suggested Sam.

"Indeed he won't!" agreed Frank. "He'll have to pull in toward the island and lie there on his oars until daylight."

"Can't he land?" asked Tommy.

"I don't think he can land in the dark!" was the reply.

"Why can't we get to Cordova and get back here with the surgeon before he can communicate with the officers?" asked Tommy. "We can't afford to go into hiding just now. We've got to get the doctor up to the cabin, and we've got to find out what that code message contained."

"How far is it from here to Cordova?" asked Frank.

"It must be about thirty-five or forty miles," replied Sam. "If the waves wouldn't keep us traveling up and down all the time, we ought to make it in about three hours."

"Jamison was trying to make us believe he was doing a fine thing if he took us to Cordova and back in ten or twelve hours!" said Tommy.

"I don't think he intended to take us to Cordova at all!" insisted Sam.

"Well," Tommy argued, "there's no way he can stop us until we get to Cordova, and he can't stop us then unless he reaches the coast or gains the wireless station before we leave the town. Once out on the gulf again, with the surgeon on board, we'll reach Katalla in spite of Jamison, and start the doctor toward the cabin."

"Then here goes for the town!" cried Frank, turning on an extra bit of power and sending the boat through the waves like a meteor.

It was rough riding, but the boys were fairly good seamen and stood the shaking up well.

About midnight the wheelsman began showing signs of consciousness. He sat up on the swaying deck and motioned for water.

"Tip him overboard!" advised Sam.

"Aw, give him a drink," argued Tommy. "If you'd had had as much red liquor during the last few hours as he's had, you'd want to connect with the water cooler, I guess! Give the man a show!"

"Where are you taking the motor boat?" asked the wheelsman.

"Cordova."

"Is that right about your wanting a surgeon?"

"That is right!" replied Tommy.

"Where is he wanted?" asked the wheelsman, who had given the name of Boswell. "Why didn't you bring the sick boy out with you?"

"Because we thought it better to take the surgeon to him!" replied Tommy. "The boy really wasn't able to be moved!"

"Fever?" asked Boswell.

Tommy hesitated a moment before replying. He was in doubt as to just how much he ought to tell Boswell. The fellow seemed to be friendly enough, and might be useful in case the lads were arrested for piracy, as, if he saw fit, he could testify that Jamison was not carrying out his agreement with them, but, instead, was planning to maroon them on a barren island in the gulf. Owing to these considerations it seemed best to keep on good terms with the fellow, and yet Tommy did not care to describe in full what had taken place at the cabin.

"No, the boy isn't sick of fever," Tommy finally answered. "He received a wound on the head and lies unconscious."

Both boys thought they saw Boswell give a quick start, but in a moment his face was as impassive as ever.

"Do you know what Jamison was up to?" asked Sam after a short pause.

Boswell looked keenly at the boy before answering.

"I only know what he told me!" he replied.

"What did he tell you?"

"He said he had a joke on you boys; that he was charging you three hundred dollars for a trip to Cordova, and that he meant to leave you on the first little island in the gulf that he came to."

"Did he tell you why he was going to do that?" asked Tommy.

Again Boswell looked keenly at his questioner.

"I guess I'd better not answer that question," he said finally.

"I wish you would answer it," Tommy urged. "I ought to know just what motive the fellow has for throwing obstacles in my way.

"He thinks it's funny!" answered Boswell.

"That isn't the correct answer," Tommy insisted. "He has some motive for what he is trying to do. I'd like to know what that motive is."

"You can't find out from me!" declared Boswell.

"You must be a chum of his!" sneered Sam.

"I hate the ground he walks on!" replied Boswell. "I wouldn't have hired out to him at all if I hadn't been drunk. But I'm not going to repeat to any one what he told me in confidence!"

"We shall have to put you off some distance this side of Cordova," Tommy suggested, "because if we don't you're likely to make us trouble by reporting the case of alleged piracy as soon as we land."

"You needn't trouble yourself about my reporting anything," Boswell answered. "I'm not mixing with Jamison's affairs! If you boys are arrested for piracy, I'll tell all I know about it, and that won't do you any harm."

Dawn came slowly that morning, for heavy clouds were gathering in the sky. The short Arctic night came to an end at last, however, and in the murky distance the boys saw the long coast line. Shortly after three o'clock they passed the wireless station and landed, not without some difficulty at Cordova.

They found the town asleep, of course, but after a time an early riser directed them to the residence of a surgeon. They arranged with him to meet them later in the day and at once set out for the wireless station. It was two hours before they saw the operator coming to his post of duty.

He remembered Frank, and willingly promised to at once open communication with Seattle and take up the work of securing a duplicate of the code message. He explained that a copy had been kept, but that it had been destroyed by a careless janitor, who had said that he could make nothing at all of the jumble of words and letters!

As soon as Seattle answered the Cordova call, a duplicate of the code telegram was asked for, and Seattle undertook to place the request on the wire and cause it to be rushed through to Chicago.

"We ought to receive the answer some time this afternoon," the operator said as the boys started away.



CHAPTER XI

MAKING NEW PLANS

When the boys returned to the floating dock at which the motor boat had been tied during their absence at the station they found Boswell sitting in the cabin in a crouching attitude.

"Did you get what you wanted?" he asked.

Tommy shook his head.

"Then," continued the sailor, "you'd better give over trying to get it for the present and duck away from here! You'll have trouble if you don't!"

"What do you mean by that?" asked Frank.

"Do you see the tug coming up the bay?" asked Boswell.

"Certainly!" was the reply.

"Well, she's been signalling to have this boat held until she arrives! And the chances are that she picked up Jamison and his pirates somewhere near the island where you left them."

"Then, of course, Jamison will want us arrested for piracy?" asked Tommy tentatively. "I presume that's what it means."

"Well," Boswell replied, "when you take another man's boat and leave him afloat in a dinghy, you must expect something to come of it besides kisses. Of course you'll be arrested!"

Frank gave a long, low whistle of dismay.

"Then," he said, "we'll have to go and notify the surgeon of what's coming off and get him to go on to the cabin alone."

"Yes," Tommy added, "and we can tell him to inform the boys what's going on here. We may have to remain here for several days if we are actually arrested."

"But how about the code duplicate?" asked Sam.

"I presume that will have to remain with us unless it comes before the doctor leaves for the cabin," Tommy answered.

"Look here," Sam said, "you two boys are the fellows Jamison wants. He won't put up much of a search for me. You go back to the wireless station and tell the operator to deliver the code duplicate to me and I'll see that it gets to the cabin."

"It's all right of you to make the offer," Tommy replied, "but there's no one at the camp that can read it."

"Then why can't Frank slip away and get the message to camp?" inquired Sam.

"Will certainly ought to have it," suggested Tommy.

"I'll tell you what we'd better do," Frank advised. "We'd better make a rush for the Cordova dock before that tug gets in. Then we can arrange with the doctor to go on to the cabin by any conveyance he can secure while we take a sneak into the wilderness and get back when we can and as we can. That's better than being arrested."

"I'm for it!" declared Sam. "But how will you obtain possession of the wireless when it comes if you duck away in advance of the arrival of the tug? The message won't be here as soon as the tug is."

The boys pondered over this proposition for a moment, and then Frank came to the front with another suggestion.

"I'll go back to the wireless station," he said, "and arrange for the operator to leave the message in some secret hiding place where we can get it after nightfall."

"I don't like this fugitive-from-justice business!" exclaimed Tommy.

"I don't either," replied Frank, "but it's a long ways better than lying in some dirty old jail. We can arrange here with father's agent to find out what sort of a case they've got against us, and pick out a good lawyer to represent us, so we'll be all ready to defend ourselves when the arrest is finally made."

"Your father has an agent here?" asked Tommy, regarding Frank suspiciously. "What business is he in?"

"Oh, quit it!" replied Frank. "We haven't any time to talk about private affairs. What we've got to do right now is to find out how we're going to escape arrest at this time. I'll go and make the arrangement with the operator, and we'll all make the arrangements with the doctor, and then we three boys will start across country to the little old log cabin in the lane!"

"There ain't no lane there!" grinned Tommy.

"There may be some time, when that part of the country becomes a suburb of Cordova!" laughed Frank. "But I reckon I'd better be getting back to the wireless office. That tug's coming in hand over hand!"

The boy was back from the office inside of ten minutes, but by that time the tug was so near that the motor boat was obliged to shoot ahead at full speed in order to keep clear of her. The boys saw Jamison standing by the captain urging him to greater efforts in the speed direction, and saw him shake a huge, ham-like fist in their direction as the motor boat left the tug behind.

"I'll tell you why I want to leave the case in the hands of a lawyer here," Frank said, as the boat shot toward the Cordova dock, "Jamison doesn't want to prosecute us boys for piracy. He's interested in some way in this case you are here to handle, and he wants to keep us under lock and key until something he wants done can be accomplished."

"I'm sure that's right!" Tommy answered.

"I don't know much about this thumb-print case," Frank went on, "but I believe that this man Jamison is trying to make sure that you boys don't get hold of the drawings you are looking for. Of course I have no proof, but I'm sure that, in the long run, you'll find that I'm right?"

The motor boat made such good time in the run for the Cordova dock that the tug was nearly out of sight when the boys climbed into the main street of the town.

"Now," Tommy said, as they all stood together at the principal business place of the town, "Frank can go and make sure that the doctor will start for the cabin immediately, and Sam and I will go and buy provisions for the cross country trip. We may be two or three days in making it, and we'll surely want to eat on the way."

"But we can't get the wireless until night!" urged Frank. "He's going to bring it to Cordova tonight and leave it in the old blacksmith shop just back of the line of store buildings."

"Well, we can get all ready to go," Tommy urged. "We don't want to take any chances on being pinched just as we get ready to leave!"

"We'll meet at the old shop in half an hour," Frank suggested, "and then we can make all the plans necessary."

Tommy noticed that afternoon that a strange fatality seemed to accompany all of Jamison's efforts to cause the arrest of the boys. First, there was no Federal officer in the town. Next, there was no judicial or ministerial officer before whom a complaint of piracy could be made. Next, the motor boat owner and his two outlaws accosted Boswell on the street and made to him insulting remarks concerning his championship of the boys.

Following this there was a general mixup, in which Boswell was not permitted to fight alone, and the result was that Jamison and his two sailors were badly beaten up. However, while the lads knew exactly what was taking place, and understood the hostility of the town toward Jamison, they understood, too, that it would be the duty of almost any officer to arrest them if they should make their appearance on the public street.

Tommy wondered vaguely at the hostility displayed toward Jamison, but Frank explained it all by saying that the fellow was a common loafer and hadn't a friend in town.

The boys might have been arrested a dozen times that day had the hostility to Jamison and his men not taken such positive form. But while Jamison, half-intoxicated, roared about the street, the boys kept as quiet as possible and so escaped general notice.

About two in the afternoon the boys were very much surprised to see a gentleman who had been pointed out to them as the surgeon walk into the old blacksmith shop where they sat. He beckoned Frank to one side and the two engaged in a short but apparently satisfactory conversation, at the conclusion of which the doctor shook the boy's hand heartily.

"All right," he said on taking his departure, "I'll attend to the matter at once! I know the operator and it'll be all right there."

"Now, what's up?" demanded Tommy suspiciously.

"I've got a new scheme!" replied the boy.

"Pass it around!" urged Tommy.

"Now, you just wait until I see whether the doctor gets the message or not!" replied Frank. "If he does, it's us for a ride home!"

"I'd like to steal that old drunkard's motor boat!" Tommy said.

Frank broke into a hearty laugh.

"You just wait and see!" he said. "We've got to be mighty careful to keep away from the Federal officers, for a deputy marshal has been sent for. Can you get up a good hot run if you have to?"

"You bet I can!" answered Tommy.

"Well, we may get a signal to make a hot foot to the dock directly," the boy went on, "and if we do, there mustn't be any mistake about the pace you set."

"Are you really going to steal the motor boat?" asked Sam.

"I don't know!" replied Frank. "We've been waiting around here all day for something to take place, and I guess it's about time there was something doing."

"I thought you were going to wait until night before sneaking out with the despatch," suggested Tommy, eyeing his friend suspiciously.

"When we made those plans," replied Frank with a grin, "I didn't know how many friends I had in town."

"Is the doctor going with us?" asked Tommy.

"No," was the reply, "we are going with him!"

"Aw, have it your own way," Tommy exclaimed. "I never could get any satisfaction talking with you!"

The doctor returned to the old blacksmith shop in an hour and called Frank outside. The two talked together for a moment, and then the boy called out the wonderful news that they wouldn't even have to run to the dock; that a carriage was waiting for them!

"Something mighty funny about this!" mused Tommy. "I'd like to know who that boy is that has such luck in Alaska! Anyone would think he owns the town, the way things are shaping themselves here!"

A moment later a wagon drawn by a pair of sturdy horses made its appearance in front of the old blacksmith shop, and the boys took their seats. As they did so the sound of a pistol shot came from around the corner and Jamison dashed into view, hatless, coatless, very red in the face and very excited as to manner.

By his side appeared a man whom the doctor at once recognized as a Federal officer. He came to a halt when he saw the boys in the wagon.

"Wait!" he commanded, "I have warrants for your arrest!"



CHAPTER XII

ANOTHER LOST "BULLDOG"

The step outside the cabin door halted, and the boys stood silent for a moment, hardly knowing whether to dispute the stranger's entrance or to admit him with a show of courtesy.

While they waited, Will glanced at the window and saw the flutter of a white hand on the pane.

"That's the Boy Scout salute!" he said.

"Another Boy Scout?" whispered Sandy. "I wonder if it rains Boy Scouts up here in Alaska!"

"I wish there were a thousand here!" George declared.

"I don't care how many Boy Scouts show up just now," Will argued, "but I would like to know where they all come from!"

There now came a knock on the door and a gruff voice demanded admittance.

"Shall I open the door?" whispered Will.

"May as well," answered George.

When the door swung open, a stout man of middle age presented himself in the opening. After casting a keen glance about the interior he stepped inside and closed the door.

"You boys seem to have taken possession of my home!" he said.

"We found the cabin unoccupied, and took the liberty of using it," Will answered in a conciliatory tone.

"Oh, it's all right!" returned the other. "That's the way I took possession of the place! I found the cabin deserted and just moved in."

"We can vacate if necessary," Will suggested.

"Oh, there's room enough for all of us, I take it!" answered the stranger. "My name is Cameron, and I spend only a day or two here occasionally. I was hoping when I saw your light that you were having a midnight supper. How about something to eat?"

"There's plenty in the cabin!" George replied. "We can give you either fish or bear steak for supper."

"Then I'm glad to find you here!" laughed the other, "for I've been traveling all day and I'm as hungry as a wolf!"

The visitor threw himself into a chair and began a careful survey of the interior, far more searching than the one made from the doorway.

"My name is Cameron, as I said before," he said, "and I'm prospecting for gold."

"Prospecting for gold on a glacier?" asked Will.

"Young man," Cameron replied, "there is plenty of gold in this vicinity. The ice brought it here. I'm being laughed at by my friends," he continued, "because I'm searching for the mother lode. But, all the same, I've every prospect of discovering it!"

"The mother lode in a glacier?" asked Sandy.

"It is my theory," Cameron went on, "that the range of mountains to the north holds gold in large quantities. It is a part of my theory, too, that the drifting ice brought tons of it down to the moraine. If I find any gold here at all, I'll find it in quantities sufficient to clog the money markets of the world!"

Cameron looked from face to face as he spoke, apparently anticipating a burst of enthusiasm from his listeners.

"Up on the Yukon," he went on, "the gold was found under the ice, where it had been deposited by glaciers which are now dead. The same conditions exist here. For all we know, there may be tons of the precious metal at the bottom of the first layer of ice."

"That's very true!" replied Will. "And if you don't mind, we'll stick around a short time and see what you discover."

"Remember," Cameron said then, "that this is my claim!"

"Of course," Will answered, "we wouldn't attempt to rob you of any legitimate discovery."

In the meantime George and Sandy were preparing a supper for the visitor. With their heads bent low over the gasoline "plate," they discussed the personality of the man and his theory in low conversation.

"How tall should you say that fellow was?" asked Sandy.

"About five foot six!" was the reply.

"And he's stout!"

"Decidedly so."

"And he wears a leather hunting shirt, and leather leggings, and he took off a pair of serviceable leather gloves when he entered?"

"I see what you're getting at," George replied, "Can you see whether there's a buckle missing from his leggings?"

"There is!" answered Sandy.

"And a patch missing from his hunting shirt?"

"Just as sure as you're a foot high!"

"Did you ever see such nerve?" whispered George. "He comes here and steals a sick boy, and then has the nerve to return and claim the cabin!"

"Well, I'm glad he came," Sandy whispered back. "All we've got to do now is to play the sleuth when he leaves the cabin."

"You mean that if we follow him in his journeys over the country we'll be apt to find Bert?" asked George.

"That's just the idea!" replied Sandy. "I wonder if his mug is sore where Bert extracted the whiskers?"

"I wonder if he expects to get a good night's sleep, with Bert lying in some uncomfortable hiding place?" George asked. "I'd like to poke him in the mug, just for luck!"

"That wouldn't help us find Bert," Sandy cautioned. "We've just got to be good to him and follow him wherever he goes."

"Watch me put him off his guard," George suggested.

"How long have you been in this neighborhood?" he asked, turning to Cameron. "I ask," the boy continued, "because one of our chums wandered away from the cabin while we were out fishing and hasn't returned."

Cameron's eyes sought the floor for a moment.

"I have just returned from the coast," he said, "so, unless your friend strayed off in that direction, I wouldn't have caught sight of him. Do you mean that he strayed away in the darkness?" he asked.

"No," replied George, "he strayed away this afternoon while temporarily out of his mind. My friends were out fishing, and I was asleep at the time. He received a slight wound on the head, from a fall, not long ago, and that is probably the cause of his aberration of mind."

The boys thought they saw a sudden expression of satisfaction creep over Cameron's face as George finished his explanation.

"If you'll serve Mr. Cameron's supper," Sandy said, giving George a sly wink, "I'll go with Will, and we'll take different directions so as to cover more ground. We are getting anxious about Bert."

Of course the object of the boys in leaving the cabin was to meet the Boy Scout who had signalled to them from the window. When they turned the corner of the cabin, they found a thin, pale lad in a torn and faded khaki uniform leaning against the outer wall.

"Why don't you come in?" asked Will.

"Is the miner in there yet?" asked the boy.

"Yes, he says the cabin belongs to him, and he's going to remain all night! What do you know of him?"

"Nothing at all!" replied the boy, "except that I've been following him for half a dozen miles in the hopes that he would lead me to some place where I could eat and sleep."

"Did you call out to him?" asked Will.

"No," was the answer. "I was afraid he would send me back if I did. Miners in this section are not fond of leading strangers to their claims."

"Where do you belong?" asked Sandy pointing to the Bulldog badge displayed on the boy's ragged coat.

"Bulldog Patrol, Portland," was the reply.

"How'd you get out into this country in such a plight?" asked Will.

"My chum and I," was the reply, "started out to seek our fortunes. We got to Katalla and couldn't get a thing to do. Sam—his name is Sam White—insisted on remaining in town, but I made a break for the country."

"How long since you've had anything to eat?" asked Sandy.

"About twenty-four hours," was the reply.

"Well, come on in, then, and we'll feed you up."

"Of course I'll go, now that I know that you are running the camp," replied the boy. "I suppose I should have gone in anyway, directly, for just as I came up I heard the man knocking at the door. I was still afraid I'd get kicked out if I put in an appearance at any miner's cabin and asked for food, but I should have risked it."

"I didn't know that miners did such things," Sandy observed.

"Some of them do, and some of them don't," replied the boy.

"You haven't given us your name yet," suggested Will.

"Ed Hannon," was the reply.

"Well come on in the cabin, Ed Hannon," laughed Sandy, "and we'll fill you up, but you mustn't say a word about having seen that miner, and if he talks to you about the route by which you approached the cabin lie like a thief! Which way did he come from, anyway?"

"He came from the west," was the reply. "I plumped into him not far from one of the little rivulets which joins Copper river not very far away."

"There!" said Sandy. "Now I guess we've got something tangible."



CHAPTER XIII

THE BEGINNING OF THE TRAIL

When Will and Sandy entered the cabin with Ed Hannon, Cameron sprang up to meet them. There was a show of excitement in his manner as he exclaimed:

"So you found the lost boy, did you?"

"No," Will replied, "this is not the lost boy, but it is a lost boy!"

"Where did you come from?" asked Cameron hastily, regarding Ed with a pair of bold, black eyes. "How long have you been in this district?"

"I came from Katalla today," answered the boy.

"Tonight, you mean," corrected Cameron.

"I started early this morning," replied Ed, "but I guess I've been wandering around the country a good deal. It seems that I came up to the cottage from the north."

Cameron sank back into his chair with a look of satisfaction on his face. The boys now busied themselves getting a substantial meal for Ed, and the boy was soon attacking a generous slice of bear steak.

If Cameron had the plans bearing the thumb marks, he was certainly the man to keep them concealed if he believed them to be of any value whatever to any one. If he did not have charge of the plans, then the chances were that Vin. Chase, the crooked clerk, had them and that any reference to them in the presence of Cameron would be communicated as soon as possible to the actual holder.

Will was certain that Cameron was the man who had given the name of Len Garman by Mr. Horton in the interview in which he had received his instructions. At that time he did not believe that Cameron, or Garman, whichever his name was, knew anything whatever of the thumb prints on the plans.

He did believe, however, that the fellow would fight to the death for the drawings, not because he believed them to be of value as evidence, but because he believed them to be of great value to one in quest of mining machinery suitable for that section of the country.

Directly Cameron began pacing to and fro in the cabin and occasionally glancing out of the window. There were only a few stars in sight and no moon, but for all that the fellow appeared greatly interested in the landscape outside.

"Are you expecting some one?" Will finally asked.

"Certainly not," was the reply. "Why do you ask such a question?"

"Because you seem anxious about something."

"I am anxious about something," replied Cameron seating himself by Will once more. "I don't like the idea of this boy coming in here with his story of being lost on the moraine.

"You think he came here for a purpose?"

"I must say that I do!"

Will saw that Cameron was fearful that Ed had brought in a message of some kind, and so talked to the point for some moments in the hope of drawing the miner out. But the miner only stared at Ed with his evil eyes and said nothing of importance.

"I know what's eating you, old fellow," Will thought to himself. "You think that there's a gang of Boy Scouts scattered over the moraine looking for Bert, and you're afraid they'll find him!"

Sure enough this prognostication seemed to be the true one, for directly Cameron drew on his head net and leather gloves and walked to the door. He paused there a moment and turned back to say to Will:

"It will soon be morning, and I desire to get to the point of my investigation before daylight. I have been very courteously entertained and shall return to your cabin at night, with your permission."

"I guess it's your cabin rather than mine!" replied Will with a smile. "I think you are acting very decently about our taking possession of it. Of course you'll always find food here as long as we remain."

With a wave of the hand at the group of boys gathered about the table, Cameron went out and closed the door. They heard him moving heavily along toward the east and then came silence.

"He's stopping to see if he's watched," suggested Sandy.

"He'll be watched all right!" George declared.

"But how?" asked Sandy.

"I'm the original sleuth!" George replied with a grin. "I can follow the fellow by the sound of his footsteps, even if he is wearing moccasins!"

"Does any one doubt that Cameron is the man formerly known as Len Garman?" asked Will.

The boys all shook their heads, but Ed turned an inquiring face toward the speaker.

"He gave the name of Cameron here, did he?" he asked.

Will nodded.

"Well, that isn't the name I heard him called by at Katalla," Ed declared.

"So you saw him at Katalla, did you?" asked Sandy.

"Yes, I saw him at Katalla two days ago. He seemed to have a lot of business with a young fellow who appeared to be a stranger in the town."

"What name did he give there?"

"Brooks!" replied Ed.

"Well, we mustn't stand here chinning while the fellow is getting out of sight," suggested George. "I'm going to take after him right now!"

"Wait," Sandy suggested, "and I'll go with you."

"Do you think he will go straight to Bert?" asked Will.

"I have no doubt of it!" was the reply.

"It's just this way," George went on, "Cameron is suspicious that a great effort is being made to discover the whereabouts of the kidnapped boy, and he can't rest easy until he knows that he is safe. Besides, the fellow would like to know whether Bert had regained consciousness."

"Yes, I presume he is anxious to learn what the code despatch he stole contains," Will answered.

"There was some talk," Sandy said, directly, "about Bert regaining consciousness before he left the cabin. Do you think that possible?"

"No, I don't!" replied George. "I should have heard a struggle had anything of the kind taken place. The fact of the matter is," the boy went on, "that Cameron thinks some one is after the drawings he values so greatly. He found Bert here with the code message and naturally concluded that the cipher referred in some way to his plans."

"Well, come on, then," Sandy urged. "We'll have to be moving if we follow Cameron. I think we've talked too long already."

"Don't you worry about that," Will declared. "Cameron will hang around the cabin for half an hour or more in order to see if any one leaves. Before any one goes out, we'll turn off the light and make a noise like going to sleep. Then, when all is good and dark, you two can slip out and locate the miner if you can."

"Locate him?" repeated Sandy. "We've got to locate him. He'll go straight to Bert and that's exactly where we want to go."

The boys made a great commotion in the cabin as if preparing for bed, and finally the lamp was extinguished, leaving the room in complete darkness.

"Now, be careful when you open the door," whispered Will.

For a wonder the door opened noiselessly on its hinges, and was closed without the slightest jar. Directly Will heard a soft tap at the window and pressed his face against the pane.

"Cameron is still in sight," Sandy's voice said, "and not very far away. He seems to be satisfied that we've all gone to bed, and is heading for the west. Looks like he was following the trail we followed when we went out after fish."

"Go to it, then," Will said. "Don't expose yourselves by being too rash, and don't come back in the morning without bringing Bert with you."

"You watch me!" Sandy replied, and then he was gone.



CHAPTER XIV

THE LAD WITH THE "DRAG"

When the federal officer appeared in front of the spirited team, announcing that he had a warrant for the arrest of the boys, Tommy and Sam both whispered to the driver to cut loose with the whip.

"Run him down!" Tommy insisted.

"Jump the rig over him!" Sam advised.

The doctor, however, stretched forth a detaining hand and the driver held in the horses.

"That's right!" Frank exclaimed.

"You mustn't get into any quarrel with the officers," Dr. Pelton suggested. "We can soon settle this matter."

"Je-rusalem!" exclaimed Tommy. "Here we've been hanging around an old blacksmith shop all day, and skulking through the streets, and not getting half enough to eat, only to get pinched at the last minute! If I had my way, I'd bump that officer on the coco and make for the landing. We can't stay in this blooming little burg all the rest of our natural lives. Will will be anxious."

"Now don't get excited!" laughed Frank. "We'll get out in, a few minutes, all right."

"If it was so easy to get out in a few minutes," argued Tommy, "why didn't you get out hours ago?"

Frank only laughed as the impatient question and sprang out of the carriage. The doctor alighted, too, and they both stood for a moment in close consultation with the officer.

Jamison, who was now very drunk, stood weaving about in the street, demanding that all the boys, and the doctor, and the driver of the carriage, be thrown into jail on a charge of piracy.

"Don't you think," Frank suggested to the officer, "that this man is too drunk to be out on the street?"

"Why, of course he is," replied the officer beckoning to an associate who stood watching the group from the next corner.

When the associate came up, Jamison was ordered under arrest, and was taken away with many threats and exclamations of rage.

"I don't like this man Jamison any better than you do," the officer said, speaking to Frank and Dr. Pelton, "but the case did look rather bad for the boys, and I had to do something."

"He collected three hundred dollars of me, for a trip to and from Cordova," Frank explained, "and then tried to maroon us on one of the Barren islands. There's a member of his crew back here in the blacksmith shop who will tell you the same story."

"So you paid him three hundred dollars, did you?" asked the officer.

"Yes, sir," answered the boy.

"And you have proof that he tried to maroon you?"

"Yes, sir!"

"And you took the boat only to enforce the contract you had made?"

"That's the idea!" replied Frank.

"Then I'm not going to bother with the case at all!" replied the officer. "If you had come to me with this story the minute Jamison began to rave about arrest, you wouldn't have been put to all this inconvenience."

"I think," grinned Frank, "that Jamison ought to pay us back the three hundred dollars, because he never brought us to Cordova at all, and even if he had, he wouldn't have earned the money until he returned us to Katalla. He ought not to keep the money."

"That's a fact!" exclaimed the officer with a smile at the boy. "I'll go down to the jail and make him give it back."

The officer started away, and Tommy and Sam sat in the carriage regarding Frank with wide open eyes.

"Say, who is that kid?" Tommy asked.

"I don't know," replied Sam.

"Did you notice that any time he said anything to the officer that the officer just fell right in with his ideas?"

"Sure I did," was the reply.

"And did you notice how the doctor paid special attention to every remark he made?"

"I couldn't help but notice it," was the reply.

"Well, that kid's got these fellows up here buffaloed all right," Tommy declared. "And that being the case, I wonder why he didn't use some of his influence hours ago and get us started on the road to Katalla."

"I give it up!" Sam replied.

Frank and the doctor stood talking together for a few moments, and then the federal officer returned and handed two hundred dollars in bank notes over to Frank.

"Jamison thinks he ought to have a hundred dollars because he paid the tug for bringing him and his crew in," the officer said, "and because he's going to let you run his motor boat up to Katalla."

"What do you know about that?" whispered Sam.

"I'll bet that boy's father is president of the United States," replied Tommy. "Or he may be king of England."

"Whoever he is, he's got a pull," replied Sam.

"Drag!" exclaimed Tommy. "Whenever a man's got a dead sure cinch like that, it's a drag and not a pull!"

"Well," the doctor said, "we're losing time! We may as well go to the wireless office and get our code message. I presume it's ready for delivery by this time."

"It's about time we were thinking about that boy with his head in a sling, too!" Tommy suggested.

"It won't take us long to get there now," Doctor Pelton remarked.

The Gulf of Alaska was remarkably smooth, when the vicious habits of that body of water are taken into consideration, and the boys made the run to Katalla without accident in little less than three hours, arriving at the floating dock with the sun still more than three hours in the sky.

"Now for the rotten part of the journey," Tommy suggested. "If we hadn't had to wait for the wireless after we landed at the dock we should have arrived here in time to reach the cabin before dark."

"Who's got the wireless?" asked Sam.

"Frank's got it tucked away under his uniform!" laughed Doctor Pelton. "He wouldn't even let me take a look at the envelope!"

"Do you know what's in it, Frank?" asked Tommy.

"Sure I do," was the reply.

"Then, what's all this mystery about? Why don't you pass the information around?" demanded Tommy impatiently.

"All in good time!" laughed the boy.

"I don't see any use of all this mystery!" Tommy grumbled, turning to Sam, "I get shut out of the inside features of every game I'm in!"

"Now, how do we get to the cabin?" asked the doctor.

"Walk, I suppose," grumbled Tommy. "It's only about fourteen or fifteen miles, and the country between the two points is mostly on end. We ought to get there by an hour or two after midnight, if we don't stop to play marbles on the way."

"If you will all wait here a few moments," Frank said, "I'll go and see what I can do in the shape of a rig."

"A rig!" repeated Tommy. "Fat lot of fun you'd have driving a rig over that moraine!"

"Of course we can't drive clear to the cabin," Frank replied, "but we can get quite along way from the coast if we have a strong team and a good wagon!"

"Yes, I remember smooth country somewhere on the route," replied Tommy.

"But even at best," Frank explained, "we shall have to walk five or six miles, so we may as well be getting busy."

In a very few minutes Frank returned with a pair of strong horses and wagon more desirable for its strength than its comfort.

"Where'd you find it?" asked Tommy.

"Sent a wireless ahead asking for it!" replied Frank.

"I wish you'd send a wireless over to the cabin," Tommy grinned, "and ask the boys to have supper all ready when we get there, and you might suggest that Sandy and George meet us a half a mile this side with a pie under each arm."

"I believe if that kid should ask to have some one dip him a blue blazer out of an ice cold spring it would be done," Sam whispered to Tommy, as the party clambered into the wagon.

"He's certainly got a drag somewhere!" replied Tommy.

"Things are running pretty smoothly boys," suggested Doctor Pelton as the straggling buildings of the coast town disappeared from view.

"They're running too smoothly!" exclaimed Tommy. "First thing we know, there'll be a cylinder head blowing out, or a volcanic eruption, or something of that kind. We've been having things altogether too easy ever since we landed at Cordova."

"Just listen a moment," Frank said, "I guess there's something going to happen, right now!"

There came a long, low rumbling sound, apparently moving from east to west, followed by a tipping of the moraine which almost brought the horses to their knees.

"It would never answer," Tommy grumbled, "for us to make a trip to Alaska without bunting into a glacier ready to smash up things!"

"That's not a glacial slide!" Frank said. "It's an earthquake!"



CHAPTER XV

A BREAK IN THE GLACIER

"An earthquake?" repeated Tommy. "I thought they never had earthquakes in Alaska any more!"

"There are few weeks when there are no earthquakes!" was the reply.

"Well, when's it going to stop quaking?" asked Sam, springing out of the wagon. "It seems to me that we're getting a sleigh ride!"

The others followed his example, and stood in a moment within fifty feet of a slowly widening chasm which seemed to run from east to west across the entire moraine. They had just reached the timber line when the disturbance began, and now they saw trees a hundred feet in height and from six to eight inches in diameter dropping like matches into the great opening in the earth.

"Gee!" exclaimed Tommy. "The breath of the earthquake is enough to freeze one! I wish I had a couple of fur coats!"

The boy expressed the situation very accurately, for the opening of the moraine revealed the mighty mass of ice which lay under it. The glacier which had lain dead under the mat of vegetation for how many hundred years no one would ever know, showed far down in the great cavern, and a gust of wind sighing through the ragged jaws laid a chill over the little party.

Slowly the chasm widened. The ground under the boys' feet seemed to be unsteady. With a swaying motion it dropped off toward the coast, except at the very edge of the cavern, which seemed to be doubling down like a lip folded inside the mouth.

"It strikes me," Frank said, "that we would better be getting the team out of the track of that chasm! If we don't, the horses and wagon will take a drop."

Tommy and Sam both sprang forward, but it was too late! The southern line of the chasm seemed, to drop away for fifty feet or more, and trees and rocks crashed into the opening. The horses and the wagon went down with the rest. The screams of the frightened horses cut the air for an instant, and then all was silent.

"Rotten!" cried Tommy.

"Fierce!" shouted Sam.

"Awful!" declared Doctor Pelton.

Frank stood looking at the ever-widening chasm for a moment and then faced toward the coast.

"We'll have to walk around it now, I'm thinking," Tommy said, in a moment. "And a nice job we've got!"

As far as the eye could see the chasm extended, now growing in size, now contracting. A pale blue mist rose out of the opening, and the air was that of an August day no longer.

The sliding motion continued, and the chasm increased its width.

"Will it never stop?" asked Sam, almost thrown to the ground by a quick convulsion of the surface.

"Not just yet!" replied the Doctor gravely. "I can tell you in a moment just what has taken place. The weight of soil and timber on top of the dead glacier is shifting. The volcanic action tipped the moraine to the south and it broke, opening the way to the ice below. There is no knowing how serious the break may be. For all we know, the upheaval may send this whole moraine into the Gulf of Alaska."

"That's a cheerful proposition, too!" Tommy exclaimed.

"I wish I could get close enough to the chasm to look down," Sam observed. "I'll bet it's a thousand feet!"

"You'd better not try that!" advised Frank.

"The question before the house at the present moment," the doctor said, "is how I am going to get to my patient."

"Can't we get across this little crack in the earth?" asked Sam.

"That depends on the length of it!" answered Frank. "If the Doctor's theory is correct, this whole point has cracked away from the glacier above. In that case, we may be obliged to in some way work ourselves to the bottom of the chasm and up on the other side."

"We never can do that!" Sam insisted.

"Alaska is full of just such gorges as this one," Frank explained. "The whole country is resting on an icy foundation, and earthquakes find congenial conditions when it comes to cracking the crust. We don't know how long this chasm is, but the chances are that it isn't as long now as it will be!"

"Yes," agreed the doctor. "The chances are that the chasm started here today will continue to grow in length until it cuts across the point of land between Controller bay and the Bering glacier. I have known chasms of this character to travel fifty miles in a night, and I have known them to walk with such dignity that it took them ten years to go ten miles."

"But there must be some way of getting across it!" exclaimed Tommy. "Everything has been going all right up to now, and we're not going to be kept away from the cabin by any such playful little earthquake as this!"

"We'll do the best we can," Frank said gravely.

The boys turned to the east and west and traversed the line of the chasm for long distances. In places the width was not more than thirty feet. In others it was at least a hundred. Occasionally the walls of soil and ice sloped down at an angle of forty degrees, in other places the wall was vertical.

Within an hour the sound of running water was plainly heard, and the boys understood that the convulsion of nature had opened a reservoir somewhere in the glacier, and that the long chasm would soon become a rushing torrent. The prospect was discouraging.

"I wish we had an airship!" suggested Tommy, as they came back to the starting place, a few minutes before the night closed down upon the moraine. "It's provoking to think that we can't get across a little chasm not any wider than a street in old Chicago!"

"I think I could get along very well with a derrick!" said Sam.

After a long conference, it was decided to keep to the west and endeavor to pass around the chasm in that direction.

"We certainly can't remain here inactive," the doctor argued. "We've got to go one way or the other, and I think the chances are better toward the west!"

"It will soon be good and dark," cried Tommy, "and then we'll have to make some kind of a camp for the night."

"I've got a searchlight with me," suggested Frank.

"So've I," answered Tommy.

"I'll tell you one thing we forgot," Sam cut in. "You didn't make Jamison give up your automatics!"

"Don't you ever think we didn't," Tommy answered. "That is," he continued, "the officer made him give them up. At least he brought them back when he came from the jail!"

"Seems to me," Tommy added, looking at Frank critically, "that you've got some kind of a drag with the people at Cordova."

"Never mind that now," Frank replied. "What we need now is some kind of a drag to get us across this chasm."

The electrics illuminated only a narrow path, but the boys and the doctor made fairly good time as they advanced toward the west.

After walking at least a mile and finding no narrowing in the surface opening, the boys stopped once more for consultation.

While they stood on the edge of the chasm considering the situation, a bright blaze leaped up some distance to the north.

"Some one's burning green boughs!" exclaimed Tommy.

"How do you know that?" asked Sam.

"Look at the white smoke!" answered Tommy. "I guess if you had made and answered as many Boy Scout smoke signals as I have, you'd know how to make a smudge."

"It's so bloomin' dark I couldn't tell whether the smoke is while or black!" declared Sam. "I can see only the bulk of it."

"If it was good and black," Tommy answered, "we couldn't see it so plainly. And, come to think about it," he added, laying a hand excitedly on Frank's shoulder, "there are two columns of smoke."

"I see the two now," Frank answered. "One column has just begun to show. You know what that means, of course!"

"It means a Boy Scout signal for assistance," replied Tommy.

Doctor Pelton turned to the boys with an anxious face.

"Do you really mean that?" he asked.

"Sure we do!" replied Tommy. "Two columns of smoke ask for help."

"Then there must be Boy Scouts in trouble on the other side of the chasm!" the doctor concluded.

"That's about the size of it!" Frank exclaimed.

"Look here," Tommy declared, "we've just got to get across that crack! I wonder if it would be possible to find walls so slanting that we could pass down this side and up the other."

"Well, even if we did," Sam argued, "there's a rush of water at the bottom. I don't see how we could get across that."

"I know how we can get across it if we find the walls accommodating," Tommy exclaimed. "You saw how the trees tumbled into the chasm, didn't you? Well, if we can find a place where the moraine was heavily wooded, we'll find a bridge of tree trunks across any water there may be at the bottom! And the bridge may not be very far down, either!"

"Great head, little man!" laughed Frank.

"You ought to consider the matter very seriously before entering the chasm at all," suggested the doctor. "Remember that it is uncertain as to size and that the walls are liable to crumble."

"But see here," exclaimed Tommy, "there's a Boy Scout signal for help on the other side, and we've just got to get across! For all we know, the cabin may have been wrecked by the earthquake, and the boys may have been injured in some way!"

"I'm game to go!" shouted Sam.

"Of course I'll go with you," the doctor went on. "In fact, I am satisfied that you are doing the right thing in making the attempt to cross. I only uttered a warning which we must all heed whenever we come to a place where a crossing seems possible."

The boys soon discovered a place where the walls did not appear to be very steep and where the mass of trees which had fallen completely covered the bottom. Then, cautiously feeling their way, they crept down.



CHAPTER XVI

GEORGE AND SANDY CAUGHT

When George and Sandy left the cabin they saw the figure of the miner very dimly outlined away to the west.

"We ought to get closer," Sandy whispered. "First thing we know, he'll duck down into some hollow, and that'll be the last of him for the night. I guess we can creep up without his catching us at it."

"Of course we can!" replied George. "He's making so much noise himself that he can't hear us! He wouldn't make much of a Boy Scout when it came to stalking, would he?"

The boys succeeded in getting pretty close to the miner; so close in fact, that occasionally they heard him muttering to himself as he stumbled over rocks and occasionally became entangled in such underbrush as grew along the top of the moraine.

"We can't be very far away from the place where the bear tried to beat me up," Sandy whispered, as they drew up for a moment. "I wouldn't mind having a bite out of that same bear just about now!"

After a time they came to the head waters of the creek in which Will and Sandy had fished, and saw Cameron standing on the other side.

"He's going into the mountains!" whispered Sandy.

"That's exactly where he's keeping Bert," George agreed.

In a short time Cameron paused in his walk and uttered a low whistle.

"What do you think of that?" asked Sandy. "He's going to meet some one here. And that means," the boy went on, "that he's had a pal watching Bert while he's been away."

"And it also means," George added, "that we can't be very far from the spot where Bert is concealed. I hope so, anyway, for I'm about tired enough to crawl into my little nest in the cabin."

"I should think you'd talk about sleep!" scoffed Sandy. "You slept all the afternoon!"

"If you mention that long sleep of mine again," George said half-angrily, "I'll tip you over into the creek. I'm sore over that myself!"

While the boys stood waiting end listening an answering whistle came from the side of a mountain not far from the rivulet.

"There's his chum!" whispered Sandy. "If we get up nearer, we may be able to hear what they say."

The boys crept along under the dim light of the infrequent stars, and finally crouched down behind an angle of rock which was not more than twenty feet removed from where Cameron stood.

They had hardly taken their position when a second figure made its appearance. The two stood talking together in whispers for a short time and then started to walk away.

"There's something doing, all right!" exclaimed Sandy.

"Yes, indeed, there is!" agreed George. "They wouldn't come out into such a hole as this after midnight to tell each other what good fellows they are, or anything like that."

"I'm getting suspicious!" Sandy chuckled.

"Why suspicious?"

"Because those fellows whispered!"

"I see the point," replied George. "From our standpoint those fellows were all alone here in one of the wild places of Alaska, yet they drew close together and whispered when they communicated with each other!"

"They wouldn't do that," urged Tommy, "unless they were afraid of being overheard. It shows that they believe some one to be watching them."

The two men were now moving quite swiftly up the slope of the mountain. At times they were entirely hidden by the luxuriant growths, and at times they came out on little bald spots where rock outcropped to the exclusion of vegetation. The boys followed on into the thickets, pausing now and then to listen for the sounds of the advance of the others.

Presently they came to a shelf of rock which overlooked the valley of the rivulet. They paused for a moment to listen for the sounds of those in advance when a strong electric searchlight was thrown on their faces and they saw the grim, round barrel of an automatic pointing at their breasts.

"You may as well hand over your automatics, boys!" Cameron said.

"And be quick about it, too."

This last sentence came from a thin, cadaverous looking fellow whose face was only half revealed through the meshes of the head net.

There was nothing for the boys to do but to pass over their revolvers. Their searchlights were also taken from them, and then their hands were tied tightly behind their backs.

"Did you have a pleasant tramp through the woods?" asked Cameron.

"Say," growled Sandy, "if you'll just turn my hands loose, I'll give you a poke in the jaw!"

"That wouldn't be polite!" sneered Cameron.

"Don't take any lip from the young imps," snarled the other. "They've given us enough trouble already!"

"You're a foxy old gink!" exclaimed Sandy. "I wish I had you on South Clark street, Chicago, for a few minutes!"

"So that's why you came to the cabin is it?" asked George.

"Certainly," replied Cameron. "I had an idea that you'd follow me away! You see I figured it out exactly right!"

"Why did you want to make trouble for us?" asked Sandy.

"Because you're too smart!" answered Cameron.

"What do you mean by that?"

"When you sat sizing me up in the cabin while I was eating supper," Cameron went on, "you informed me as plainly as words could have done that you knew me to be the man who had abducted your friend."

"You didn't show that you knew," George suggested.

"I tried not to show that I knew," answered the other.

"What'd you steal Bert for?" asked Sandy.

"I needed him in my business," answered Cameron.

"Come, don't stand here all night talking with the little gutter-snipes!" exclaimed Cameron's companion. "We've got work to do!"

"March along, then, boys!" Cameron ordered.

The lads were now pushed forward into a cavern which opened on the shelf of rock where they had been taken prisoners. The opening in the mountain side seemed to be of considerable size, for the boys passed from an outer chamber of fair dimensions to two smaller ones further in.

In the last of these chambers, on a huddle of blankets, lay the boy for whom they had been searching.

"Is he dead?" asked Sandy.

"No such luck," snarled Cameron.

"If you'll untie my hands, I'll look after him," George said.

The bonds were cut and George bent over the still figure.

"Has he regained consciousness at all?" he asked.

Cameron turned to his companion.

"Tell them, Fenton," he said, "whether the lad woke up during my absence. You were here all the time?" he added.

"Yes, I was here all the time!" answered Fenton. "And the lad never opened his eyes once. That was a deuce of a blow you gave him, Cameron!"

"And what did you gain by it?" demanded Sandy.

"We'll show you directly what we gained by it!" Cameron answered.

Seeing a bucket of water at one side of the cavern, George carried it over to the heap of blankets where the boy lay and began bathing his forehead and wrists. The boy groaned feebly but did not speak.

"What did you hit him with?" asked George angrily.

"The handle of my gun!" was the sullen reply.

"Why?" asked Sandy.

"Because I wanted to get a paper he had."

"Well, you got it, didn't you?" asked the boy.

"Yes, I got it!"

"And much good it did you, too!" said George angrily.

"Look here!" Cameron almost shouted, "can either one of you boys read that code despatch?"

George shook his head.

"Is there any one at the cabin who can read it?"

"I have never known of any member of the party reading the cipher," replied George. "I never have seen a code despatch before."

"You are lying to me!" shouted Cameron. "The boy to whom the despatch was addressed can certainly read it! Which one of you bears the name of Will Smith? Don't lie to me now!"

"Will Smith is at the cabin!" replied Sandy.

"Just my luck!" shouted Cameron.

"What do you want to know about the code despatch?" asked Sandy.

"I want to know what it contains. And what is more, I'm going to know, too! I want one of you boys to write a note to this Will Smith and get him to come here to this cave."

"Not for mine!" exclaimed Sandy.

George made no verbal reply, but the expression of his face showed that he had no intention of doing anything of the kind.

"It will be the worse for you if you don't!" shouted Cameron.

"Oh, you've got the top hand for a few minutes now," Sandy said, tauntingly, "but you'll soon find out that you're not the only man in the world that's got a gun!"

This last as Cameron flourished an automatic in his hand.

"You'll write the note, or you'll starve to death!" replied Fenton.

"Then we'll starve!" answered George.

"No, we won't starve!" declared Sandy. "We'll get the best of you outlaws in some shape, and give you a beating up that will put you in the hospital for six months!"