Meanwhile, on the ice-locked shores of Great Bear Lake, preparations for departure were being made by the airplane party. The gasoline must all be strained through a chamois-skin to insure them against water in the engines, and this, with the temperature at thirty to forty below, was no mean task. There was a careful selection of foodstuffs to be taken along. It was decided also that the five dogs should go, for they would provide transportation, in case of accident, and could be killed and eaten as a last resort. The entire equipment was given a thorough overhauling. All this took three days of arduous toil.
When, at last, all was in readiness, and the earth began to drop away beneath them, the dogs put their noses in the air and chorused a canine Arctic dirge. But their howls were lost in the noise of the engines.
As for the boys, their cheeks burned. Truly, this was to be their greatest adventure—"An adventure quite worthy the heart of a true soldier," as the Major had expressed it. Many problems they left behind unsolved, but these were quite crowded out of their minds by the one supreme problem: Would they reach the Pole, and would they reach it first?
Somewhere on the shores of Melville Bay, near the banks of Melville Island, frozen in the ice for the winter, was the little gasoline schooner which had engaged to furnish them fuel for the last lap of the journey north and the return. The gas would cost a pretty penny, to be sure, for it would compel the trader to return to Nome earlier than he had intended doing, but money seemed no object to the zealous explorer.
Setting their course a little east of north, they shot directly away. Bruce, who was driving, settled back easily in his place. The machine was soaring beautifully. The engines worked in perfect time. Everything promised a safe and speedy trip. Now and again a belated flock of snow-geese, as if drawn by an invisible thread, shot by them; and now, far below, they caught sight of moving brown specks, which told of caribou still passing southward from the summer pasture in the unexplored lands far to the North. The fleeting panorama was of constantly changing interest and beauty.
Soon they left the land behind. They were passing over Prince Albert Sound. Its surface was already white with ice. Land again, then Melville Sound—last lap on this three hundred mile journey. Bruce found himself unable to believe they were over a great body of salt water. Surely these squares, rising from the surface, white and glistening in the moonlight, were village roofs covered with snow. Surely, these other squares lying flat upon the surface were town lots, and the broader ones stretches of field and meadow, where grain would ripen in summer and flowers bloom. And the spots of open water, made black by the whiteness about them, were fishing-ponds where one might lazily dip his line and dream.
But as he shook himself back into reality, a startling question had come to him. His lips put it in words.
"How are we going to tell that schooner when we see it?" he barked through the Major's telephone. "Won't she be buried in snow?"
"Probably will," admitted the Major, "but there's sure to be a native village near by, and though their houses are built of snow, they always have a litter of black things about—sleds, hunting implements, skins, and the like. We can't miss it."
"Natives. M-m-m," Bruce mumbled. "Nagyuktogmiut, or something like that. Hope the white man happens to be about when we land. I've read Stefansson's account of them. They treated him all right, but when old Thunderbird, his own self, brings them some white men, they may not be so glad to see them, and those chaps have copper-pointed spears and arrows, not to speak of rifles."
"The Indians didn't bother us," phoned back the Major.
"That's right. Well, I hope this is our lucky day." Bruce again gave his whole attention to driving. Then, as they made out in the distance some high elevations, that might be land or might be clouds, he dropped to a lower level and scanned the surface of the ice for a black spot which would tell of human habitations. The village, he knew, might be fifty miles from land, for these Eskimos lived on the ocean's roof during the entire winter and hunted seal and great-seal, moving only now and again when game became scarce.
"There they are, over to the right," he exclaimed presently. He set his machine in the general direction indicated. Soon a black patch began to appear among the lights and shadows. Surely here was the village they sought. The realization set his heart thumping violently.
"Drop in close and look for a landing."
The Major twisted in his seat and scanned the ice narrowly as he spoke."Just beyond them seems to be a broad flat pan. Looks safe. Try it"
Bruce cut off his engines and began circling down. It was the dead of night. Apparently every person about the village was asleep. Now he could distinguish sleds and skins hung on ice-piles to dry. Now he located the double rows of dome houses. They were going to pass right over these, but high enough to miss them.
Then, rapidly, things happened. A vagrant current of wind seized them and they "bumped" in air. The next instant it was evident that a crash was inevitable. They were swooping straight down upon a row of snow-domes. But the machine was heavy, the snow-houses, mere shells, without the sign of a shock, yielding to the compact, went spinning away in little bits, revealing scores of sleepers snug beneath their deerskins. They had awakened Bedlam. Men shouted, women and children screamed, dogs barked.
"Like knocking over a bee-hive," chuckled Barney.
Bruce, with a remarkably cool head, brought his machine to the smooth surface beyond. In a moment she was slowing up to a perfect landing. "Quick! The machine-gun!" exclaimed Barney.
Bruce gave one startled look behind them, then began working feverishly.Already Barney and the Major were unstrapping themselves.
Across the ice in the vague moonlight a motley throng, a hundred strong, was charging down upon them. Half-naked, their brown arms gleaming, they seemed the inhabitants of some South Sea isle rather than Eskimos of the Farthest North. Copper-pointed spears gleamed yellow and gold, while here and there the dark barrel of a hunting rifle was to be seen.
"Go slow," warned the Major. "Remember it's men, women and children instead of wolves this time. They're wild, but they're human. Send a volley into the ice-piles at the left. Show 'em what you've got and they'll stop—perhaps."
As Bruce turned the barrel of his deadly weapon, he caught the low rumble of many voices. The natives were chanting a witching song to destroy the power of evil spirits.
"Tat-tat-tat-tat." The machine-gun spoke. Bits of ice flew wildly. The mob halted for a moment, then plunged on, still chanting that maddening song.
Just at the moment when a massacre seemed inevitable, there came a roar from the right. Turning, Bruce saw the form of a bearded man apparently rising from a hole in a giant ice-cake. At the sound the wild mob halted.
"Hey! You fellows!" the stranger bellowed. "What's the matter with you?" Then he turned to the natives and began to harangue them in a tongue quite unknown even to the Major.
The instant Bruce saw the red-whiskered giant rise, seemingly from the ocean, his hand relaxed on the machine-gun and he stood in ready expectation. The Eskimos appeared to understand the words which the stranger flung at them, for, though they continued their weird incantation, they lowered their weapons and did not attempt to approach nearer the white men.
Presently their weapons began clattering to the ice. Taking this as a sign of friendliness, the explorers stepped out to meet them. Seeing this, the natives gathered into a compact group, their song rising to a wild humming howl, but they made no move to attack. When the strangers were quite close, one native, braver than his companions, stepped forward. Still chanting, he handed each explorer a small cube of whale blubber. One cube remained in his own hand. This he proceeded to swallow, indicating at the same time that the strangers were to follow his example.
The moment the cubes disappeared the wild chorus ceased and the natives crowded forward to extend a hearty welcome.
It was, however, a very long time before one of them was persuaded to come near the airplane.
"I haven't a doubt," said the Major, "that they still believe that we rode here on the back of old Thunder-bird himself. And why not? If we can build schooners many times as large as their largest skin-boats and run them by noise alone, if we can kill at a distance by a magic of great noises, why couldn't we tame the Thunder-bird himself and make him carry us? It is my firm conviction that if one of us were to return here in a year or two, he would hear the most outlandish tales of the Kabluna who rode the Thunder-bird."
The natives had returned to their camp to dress and to repair the damage done by the airplane. The white men were approaching what appeared to be the den of the bearded stranger, when the Major gave a cry of joy:
"Masts! Boys, we have finished the first lap of our journey. The den of the stranger is the cabin to his schooner. He is the trader who is to furnish us gasoline!"
The Major's surmise proved to be correct, and they were soon sitting happily around a rough galley table, sipping at steaming "mulligan"—a rich Arctic stew—and coffee.
"And now," said the Major, "for a few hours of sleep. After that your time is your own for twelve hours."
"Twelve hours!" exclaimed Bruce in surprise. "Don't we start for thePole at once?"
"Young gentlemen," said the Major smiling, "your enthusiasm is gratifying in the extreme. But flying, especially in high latitudes, is very trying on the nerves—even such nerves as yours. Remember that in the Arctic, where anything at all is liable to happen at a moment's notice, we must always be at our best. So get some relaxation. What will you do with your twelve hours?"
"I heard a walrus barking a half-hour ago!" exclaimed Barney eagerly.
"I'm for a walrus hunt," agreed Bruce.
"Good! That will stretch your legs a bit," said the Major. "But don't go too far, nor take too many chances. Remember you have a mission to accomplish here in the North."
The three adventurers were soon sleeping soundly in the bunks of the Gussie Brown, and far away, bobbing his head through a water-hole and shaking the icicles from his moustache, a great bull-walrus barked at the moon.
When they awoke from dreamless slumber, the boys' first thought was of the promised walrus hunt. They scrambled into their fur garments, and hurrying to the surface of the floe, listened for the hoarse call of their quarry, the walrus. They did not have to wait long.
"There he barks!" exclaimed Bruce, putting his hand to his ear.
"And again," Barney hurried below to secure a native harpoon and skin-rope. Bruce provided himself with a high-power magazine rifle.
"We're off!" Barney shouted joyously to the Major, as he gulped down a cup of steaming coffee and took a last bite of sour-dough bread.
"Good luck! And may you come back!" bantered the Major. Had he known how real was his jesting prophecy of danger, he would not have joked.
As a rule, walrus-hunting in the Arctic is not a sport, it is a task—the day's work of providing food for a village. It is as exciting as the "hog-killing day" of a middle-west farmer. The hog may run amuck of the farmer, and so may the walrus of the hunter; the chances are about equal. The walrus seldom shows fight. Before he is harpooned, he either is quite indifferent to the presence of the hunter, or slips away to the water at sight of him. If harpooned, he makes every effort to escape, and only in rare instances shows fight. The boys had been told all this by the trader over their coffee the night before.
It was evident, then, that they must slip up on their prey without being seen. This would be a comparatively simple matter, since the tumbled ridges of ice afforded ideal hiding-places. When close enough, Barney, who was the stronger of the two, was to drive the harpoon-point through the thick skin of the creature. This harpoon-point was fastened to a rawhide rope. He must instantly drive a copper-pointed lance into the ice, and wrapping the skin-rope about it, close to the ice-surface, hold on like grim death until Bruce dispatched the creature with his rifle. Wherever the beast was, in a small water-hole kept opened by himself, or a larger one formed by the shifting floes, their success would depend on Barney's ability to keep the rope free from jagged edges which might cut it, and Bruce's skill at quickly getting in a fatal shot. At regular intervals the walrus must rise for air, and this would give the opportunity for Bruce to get in his work.
"He's a moose!" whispered Bruce, as they crept close to the rather broad waters-hole and eyed the creature through a crack between upended ice-cakes.
"Tusks two feet and a half long! Must weigh a ton and a half!" AlreadyBarney felt his muscles ache from the strain.
"Well, here's for it!" He exclaimed, coiling his skin-rope. The next instant there came a loud thwack, which told that the boy's shaft had found its mark. Instantly there was a hoarse bellow and then a wild splashing in the water. Bruce was at the top of a pressure ridge, ready for action. Barney had made his shaft secure, but then there came a strain that made the veins stand out on his forehead. Suddenly the strain slackened.
"Be ready! He's coming—" Barney did not finish, for from the churning water the walrus thrust his massive head, snorting and foaming. The rifle cracked.
Silently the great creature sank, but this time the foaming water showed a fleck of red where the walrus disappeared.
"Got him!" cried Bruce triumphantly.
But this time the strain on the lance was redoubled.
"Try—try to hit a vital—vital spot," panted Barney, as the strain lessened once more. "Behind front flipper—in the eye."
Again the water foamed. Again the rifle cracked. More blood! Another plunge, and again the strain seemed redoubled.
"I—can't—hold much—longer," Barney gasped.
Springing down from the pinnacle, Bruce ran to the edge of the pool, and, leaping upon a floating ice-cake, waited again.
This time his aim was better.
The strain when the walrus sank was not so great.
"Doing fine," breathed Barney. "Next time we'll—"
Again he did not finish, for, unexpectedly, his friend shot up in the air, to fall sprawling upon the cake of ice and cling there while it tilted to an angle of forty-five degrees. The walrus had risen beneath the cake and split it in two. Bruce was stunned by his fall, but Barney's warning cry roused him. One glance revealed his perilous position. The piece of ice to which he clung had been thrust toward the center of the pool. Even now the gap was too wide for him to leap. To plunge into the water, with the thermometer forty below, was to court death.
While he hesitated, the walrus rose to the surface. With a bellow that sprayed bloody foam about him, he charged the cake of ice. If ever there was need for a cool brain, it was now. Bruce, gripping his rifle, crouched and waited. Reaching the cake, the walrus hooked his tusks over its edge till it tilted to a perilous angle. Bruce's feet shot from under him, but by a quick movement he caught the upper edge of the ice. Pulling himself up till he could brace his feet, he took steady aim at the beast's wild and bloodshot eye. It was a perfect shot. The walrus, crumpling, began to sink into the water. Seeing this, Bruce clung to the cake until the tusk slipped off. In another moment the uncertain raft was at rest.
"Well, we got him," he panted, sitting limply on the ice. "But for mine in the future, give me the cozy dangers of aviation. I don't see much relaxation in this game."
The ice-cake soon drifted so that Bruce could jump ashore. With their combined efforts the boys were able to draw the dead walrus close in and tie him securely to the ice edge. Then they returned to camp to send a happy band of natives out for the meat and blubber.
"That head will make a fine trophy to hang in the front parlor of that five-room bungalow," laughed Barney, as a native brought it in that night.
"You may have it for your den," said Bruce with a shiver. "I never want to look a walrus in the face again."
"To-morrow," said the Major, as they prepared to retire, "the race will be resumed."
A careful examination of their "ivory jail" showed Dave and the submarine engineer that they were in a narrow chamber completely lined with walrus tusks. The tusks had been so ingeniously cut and fitted that only the grain of the glistening surface told where one tusk joined another. As for the door, so closely was it fitted that it was not to be located at all. In two corners were seal-oil lamps. These had feed-pipes of some form of dried sea-weeds. They could thus be fed from without. Two narrow openings, strongly barred with ivory tusks, one in the floor and one in the ceiling, permitted air to enter, but one peered through them into utter darkness.
"Tain't no wonder they left us our knives," grumbled Jarvis. "The bloomin' 'eathen knowed we'd wear 'em away before we made any h'impression on that ivory. But mind you, lad, this hain't the work of no bloomin' 'eathen—not no regular 'eathen it hain't. 'E hain't smart enough for that, your regular 'eathen hain't. 'Twas some one else, it was. Shouldn't be surprised if it was them three strangers."
As for Dave, he was worried less about himself than about his companions out in the bay. Knowing the growing impatience of the Doctor, he was prepared to expect him to attempt anything in case of their prolonged absence. Should he try to submerge the craft to bring her to land under the ice, it was an even chance every one on board would perish miserably—caught in the sunken "sub."
That he and Jarvis might be kept prisoners indefinitely seemed certain, for after some five or six hours, food was thrust in to them and they were left, apparently for the night. The food consisted of boiled fish and liver, probably walrus liver, soaked in rank seal oil. They ate a little fish and thrust the liver through the opening in the floor, the better to escape its nauseating odor.
"H'I'd die before h'I'd h'eat 'is bloomin' victuals," snarled Jarvis contemptuously, "that bloomin' 'eathen!"
He began poking about the narrow confines of the jail. Not being able to see to suit himself, he struck a match and touched it to the mass, placed on the edge of a brimming seal-oil lamp, in lieu of a wick. Immediately a line of fire was kindled and its light, reflected again and again by the dazzling whiteness of their prison walls, made the whole place as light as day. At once Jarvis gave a cry of surprise and began crawling toward the farthest side.
"H'I told you there was minerals," he exclaimed. "E's a rich un, this bloomin' 'eathen. H'it's gold, h'I'll be blowed!"
He began digging away with his knife at some yellow spots in the ivory.They were bits of inlaid gold.
"What's the idea?" asked Dave in surprise. "Are all prisons up here made of ivory inlaid with gold?"
"Y' can't tell, lad. 'E's a queer one, the bloomin' 'eathen, and if h'I be 'anged," sputtered Jarvis, "what's one pole more or less, when you've gold calling to come and take it. What—"
He paused, his mouth agape, words unsaid. The door of the ivory den had been softly opened, and framed in it were the dark, crafty faces of the three natives who had brought about their captivity and imprisonment. In their hands gleamed knives with long blades of a curious oriental type.
* * * * *
But we must return to the Doctor and his crew of gobs who had been left on the submarine.
When the young captain and his chief engineer did not return at sunset, deep concern for their safety was felt. Three searching parties were sent out, while, from time to time, flares were lighted to show them the way to the submarine, should they chance to have lost their directions on the ice-floe. The flares guided the searching parties back to the boat, but so far as finding trace of the missing ones was concerned, neither flares nor searchers were of any avail.
In the meantime, the Doctor paced the deck anxiously. They were losing valuable time. If only they could find a way to shore, the damaged shaft might be repaired and, during the interval, the captain and engineer would doubtless turn up.
At the first hint of dawn the watch discovered a lead half-way through the ice-floe. At once the Doctor ordered the submarine run into this narrow channel. The result was what might have been expected; the ice closed in and the "sub" was locked in the center of the floe. There remained but one way it could move—down, under the ice. Otherwise, it might drift indefinitely in this solid mass of ice. They would be carried away from the bay, away from their friends, and all hope of rescuing them would be lost. It was, indeed, a terrible plight.
Just at this time a bright young gob, Tom Rainey, came forward with an ingenious scheme. The "sub" carried a sufficient length of steel cable to reach to the farther edge of the ice-floe. Why, he reasoned, might they not pole this cable beneath the rather loosely-joined ice masses until they reached the open water, then submerge the submarine and, with a capstan, drag it like a hooked trout to the channel. It was a wild scheme, but the doctor was in a mood for anything. The crew were set to work at once, cutting holes in the ice-floes here and there and passing the cable from opening to opening. It was slow and freezing work, but in time the job was done.
When the cable was ready, the Doctor insisted that a sufficient crew be aboard the submarine when she submerged to man her in case she broke loose. This was, indeed, a hazardous mission, but volunteers were not lacking. And, with all speed, the trial was made.
The scheme worked better than they had dared to hope. When the "sub" passed from beneath the ice-floe, the second engineer in his superabundance of joy hazarded a few turns of the disabled shaft. This set the whole craft vibrating and drove her half-way across the narrow channel.
As the submarine rose to the surface the doctor saw a dark shadow pass over the glass window at the top. At the same time he felt a slight jar.
"Must have tilted a small cake of ice," he chuckled.
Then, as he lifted the hatch: "By Jove! No, it wasn't. It was a skin-boat full of natives! There they are in the water! Watch them scramble back into their boat. If we had a safer power, we'd go to their rescue. But they'll be all right. Now, they're all aboard."
That the natives were in a frenzy of fear while in the water, the doctor attributed to their dread of attack by a walrus. But when they began paddling away at top speed, he opened his eyes in wonder.
"Ah, well!" he said, at last, "who'd marvel at that? Ships are not in the habit of coming up out of the sea in the Arctic. And now I wonder—I just wonder, did they have anything to do with the disappearance of our friend Dave and the engineer?"
When all hands were on board lunch was served. By the time this was over the submarine had drifted to the solid shore-ice. She was at once tied up with the aid of ice-anchors, and preparations made for dragging her out of the water.
"But first," said the Doctor, "let us visit our friends, 'the bloomin' 'eathen,' as Jarvis styles them."
It was a strange sight that met their gaze as they entered the village. Men, women and children, with a wild wail, threw themselves flat on their stomachs, uttering the most melancholy moans that ever came from human lips. Interspersed with the cries were apparent appeals addressed to the visitors.
"What's all this rumpus?" the Doctor demanded of Azazruk, the Eskimo."Can you understand their jargon?"
"They say," said the Eskimo, showing his white teeth in a grin, "that they know we are spirits—spirits of dead whales, since we come out of a whale's back, that came up from under the sea. They say not kill them us please. They say this that one. They say, kill plenty whale that one chief native. They say, fire for spirit of dead whale not make that, them. They say that, this one native. But they say not kill them and for sure they make fire, sing song for spirit of dead whale."
The Doctor, who understood this to be one of the superstitions of the natives, and knew that they had taken the submarine for a whale, began to laugh. But at once he checked himself.
Turning a scowling face at the only two standing natives, one of whom had a fresh cut across his cheek, he stormed:
"And why have these fellows no shame? Tell them to fall down at once, orI will step on them."
Azazruk repeated the message, and, surprised and frightened, the two men obeyed.
The Doctor eyed the two curiously for a moment as they lay there squinting up at him, their slant eyes gleaming with suppressed anger.
"Look like they'd been in a fight," he remarked.
And so they did. The darker of the two had the cut on his cheek, before mentioned, his fur parka was torn half off him, displaying some ugly bruises. His companion had lost half a sleeve and his right hand was bleeding.
"They're surely rascals, but you must play the good Samaritan at all times," he said, as he bent over one of them. "Rainey, get my case from the locker, will you?"
Rainey hurried to the submarine, a half mile away, while the natives, still half sprawling on the frozen earth, eyed the hardier fellows, while the Doctor bent over them, as if expecting at any moment to see them drop dead as a result of the magic power of these great spirits from the belly of a whale.
It was Jarvis and Dave who were responsible for the condition of the two natives of the strange bearing. When Jarvis saw their ugly faces and gleaming knives at the door of the ivory prison he was ready for a fight. His face turned purple, as he muttered between clinched teeth:
"H'it's our chance. 'Ere's where h'I make a killin'. At 'em Dave!"
And, led by his sturdy engineer, Dave hove at them right royally.
Their knives were short but their arms long, and as for skill, there were no better trained men in the army than Dave and Jarvis.
They made quick work of it. The "bloomin' 'eathen," surprised by the sudden onslaught, were on their backs in a trice. Two of them fared as I have said, and as for the third, he came out with a head so badly pummeled by Jarvis' fist that he was content to crawl into a dark igloo and stay there.
Once outside the prison Jarvis and Dave glanced quickly about them for a hiding-place. Much to their surprise, they did not see a native about the village. Made bold by this, they skirted the rear of the last row of huts, and, dodging down a snowed-in ravine, hid at last in the ice-heaps not twenty rods from the submarine. Not being aware, however, that their friends had succeeded in reaching the shore-ice, they crouched in their icy shelter, their teeth chattering from cold and excitement.
Jarvis had an ugly slash on his right arm. Dave had just succeeded in binding this up when they heard footsteps approaching. Jamming themselves hard into a crevice of ice, Jarvis whispered:
"H'I'll fight t' a finish before h'I go back to that white prison of the bloomin' 'eathen."
Dave made no response.
The steps came nearer, then began to die away.
"Didn't sound like the bloomin' 'eathen," muttered Jarvis. "No near's soft and glidin'. 'Ere 'e comes back. H'I'll 'ave a look." Creeping close to a corner, he peered cautiously out, then with a roar:
"Blime me, it's Rainey!" He sprang from concealment, almost embracing the young gob in his delight.
It was a joyful meeting that took place between the united parties.
When Jarvis saw the Doctor working over the disabled natives he roared first with laughter, then with anger. His last desire was to put them out of the way at once.
"For, sir," he argued, "them hain't no natural, ordinary 'eathen, indeed not, sir. They are the very h'old Nick 'isself, sir."
But Dave suggested putting them in their own ivory prison, and this advice prevailed. After their wounds were dressed they were thrust in and the door barred from without. Wiser men than the "sub" crew have learned that a man is seldom safe in a prison of his own making, but the sailors never gave the prisoners another thought.
"Rainey," said the engineer, as he found himself alone with the young gob, "we'll all be rich men."
"How?" asked his companion.
"There's mineral! Mineral! Gold, me lad, tons of it!" The older man's wrinkled face caught the tints of the sunset and seemed to take on the hue of the metal of which he spoke.
Once all the members of the submarine party were reunited, their one thought was to repair their damaged craft as soon as possible and start again on their way to the Pole. Perhaps the engineer wasted a thought now and again on the supposed great mineral wealth of that peninsula, but if he did, he said nothing.
The men were divided into three groups. The first, the mechanics, undertook the task of removing the shaft; the second guarded the craft against possible attack by the natives, while the third was dispatched up the beach to search for firewood which the mechanics must have.
The work of the guard seemed a joke. Not one of the natives could be induced to approach the dark "spirit-whale" which some of their comrades had seen rise from the water. Even after the steel shaft had been brought ashore as tangible evidence that the craft was a thing of metal, they could not be induced to approach it.
The wood hunters found their task a hard one, for, either there never had been much driftwood on these shores, or the natives had used it for summer camp-fires. They searched far down the bay without finding a sufficient quantity to make "a decent fire over which to roast 'hot-dogs'," as Rainey expressed it.
But as the engineer rounded a point, he suddenly exclaimed;
"There! Ain't h'I been sayin' hit! I 'ates to think 'ow jolly stupit som'ums of ye are."
He was pointing to the banks which overhung the sea. The men, who were looking only for driftwood, did not at first see the cause of his exclamation.
"Coal, my lads!" Jarvis exclaimed, half beside himself. "Coal cropping from the bank!"
It was true. A careful examination showed a four-foot vein of soft coal. It was not long until reindeer sleds, secured from the natives, were drawing quantities of the fuel to a point beneath a cliff, where a crude forge had been made out of granite rock.
While this work was going on, the engineer disappeared in the direction of the village. In a half-hour he came tearing back, his face red with rage.
"They're h'out!" he sputtered. "The bally, blithering unnatural 'eathen hev flew the h'ivory coops. T'was to be expected. I 'ates t' think what h'I'd a-done, 'ad h'I 'ad the say of it."
"Oh, well," said the Doctor, who was inclined to take Jarvis' quarrel with the natives rather lightly, "in twenty-four hours we'll be away from these shores never to return."
"Return?" exclaimed Jarvis. "H'I'll return, an' Dave 'ere'll return.We'll be rich men, we'll be. I 'ates t' think 'ow rich 'im an' me'll be!"
But the Doctor was too busy hurrying the mechanics in their repairs to heed the words of the excited engineer.
Finally the forge was ready and as by the Arctic moonlight a black smoke rose higher and higher above the cliffs, and a fire blazed a thousand times larger and hotter than that black shore had ever known, the natives appeared to grow more and more certain that these men who came up from the depths of the sea were, indeed, the spirits of all the dead whales that they and their forefathers before them had killed. They looked on in silent awe.
It was with the greatest difficulty that Jarvis succeeded in finding one of them who was able to speak the Chukche language of Behring Strait, a language that was understood by Azazruk, the Eskimo. When, at last, he did find a man who knew Chukche and who was not too frightened to talk, he plied him with many questions.
"Who were the three strange-appearing natives who had attacked him and his companion in the jail? Where did they come from? What were they doing here? How did they happen to have such a strange jail? How did they chance to have a jail at all? Where did the gold come from that had been used to inlay the ivory? Was there much of it to be found?"
These, and many other questions, the engineer put to the trembling native, while, with one eye, he watched the operations of the mechanics who labored by the fire.
The man did not know the exact place from which the three strangers had come; it was somewhere far South, known as Ki-yek-tuk. The three had been a long time in the village and had inspired all the people with a great dread by telling them of a giant race who wore fierce beards like the walrus; who killed with a great noise at long distances, and who would break any jail except one of ivory. They had said that probably one or two of these fierce men would come at first, and, perhaps, if these were made prisoners, no others would follow. Hence the jail. And hence, too, the imprisonment of Dave and Jarvis. The natives had felt sure that they were the advance guard of these wicked, cruel men who had come to rob and kill. But now, of course, they knew they were spirits of dead whales, and would do them no harm.
As for the tusks with the inlaid gold, the man said they had been traded for by a very old man who had made a journey with a reindeer, ten nights and days from their village, due west. There, beside a great river, he had found a numerous people, who lived in houses of logs, very large and warm. He said, too, that these people had great quantities of this yellow metal. Their houses were decorated with it; their fur garments glistened with it; their council house was encrusted with it.
"But," he added at the end, "the metal was too soft for spear points and arrowheads, too heavy for garments, and not good for food. As for houses, did they not have their deerskins and walrus-pelts? So the old man never went back for more."
Dave had been sitting by the old engineer as he secured this information bit by bit through the interpreter. His eyes sparkled with excitement when he spoke.
"Well," he asked, when the native had finished, "what do you make of it?"
"Make of it?" exclaimed the old man. "It's plain as the nose on your face. H'as h'I see it, there's gold in this land just h'as h'I said before, plenty of it. H'and this 'ere tribe, way west there some'ers; they's been driven there by the Roosians, er by other tribes. Mayhaps they's Roosian h'exiles themselves. Mayhaps they's one of the seven lost tribes of h'Israel, what you read of in the Book. 'Owever that may be, it's there, and h'I 'ates to think 'ow rich you h'and h'I'd be h'if h'it wasn't fer this 'ere crazy Doctor's achin' to see th' Pole."
"Jarvis," Dave leaned forward eagerly, "we'll take the Doctor to the Pole, then we'll hire a submarine or a schooner and work our way back here."
"We will that, me lad," said the old man, gripping the boy's hand. "But then," he added more soberly, "maybe it won't be a bit o' use. Maybe the Japs will get it first."
"The Japs."
"Sure! The Japs. Ar' ye that blind? Don't ye know all the time the three rascals we well-nigh killed was Japs? Can't ye see 'ow they don't want the h'Americans or th' Roosians to git t' the treasure of this peninsula? Can't ye see 'ow bloomin' easy h'it'd be for 'em to put two or three spies in h'every bloomin' native village on the whole Roosian coast, and take the entire peninsula fer th' Jap Kaiser, or whatever they call 'im? Can't ye see 'ow th' thing'd work?"
Dave sat a long time in thought. At last he decided what to do.
"Perhaps you're right, Jarvis," he said finally, rising. "But our first job is the Pole. The shaft must be nearly fitted by now. Let's see how they're coming. Perhaps we'll be away in the morning."
As they rounded a block of ice by the shore, Jarvis gave a start and seized his companion by the arm.
"D'y' see 'im?" he whispered "'E was starin' h'at us from behint them ice-piles. 'E was a Jap. I'll swear it."
"Aw, you're seeing Japs to-night," laughed Dave.
"Ow is she?" Jarvis asked of a gob whom they met.
"Right as they make 'em—now. But I'll say it was some job that. The shaft was twisted something awful—like a corkscrew. But it was some steel, that shaft, and we just het her up an' twisted her straight again. The Doc said he guessed it would be a bit short, but when we got her back in place she fitted like paint. Then we slid the old boat back in the water and tried her out and she runs like a watch."
"Grand. We're off in the mornin'."
Dave and Jarvis turned to make their way to the submarine where a single gob, pacing the white ice-surface, had laughed at his job of watching natives who could not be induced to come within a half-mile of him.
Suddenly the engineer jumped forward.
"Did y' see that?" Jarvis grabbed Dave by the arm and urged him into a run. "'E went down—the guard, I saw 'im," panted Jarvis. "I saw 'im, then h'I didn't. H'it's the Japs. Listen!"
There came distinctly the sound of a dragging hawser.
"H'it's the Japs; the blooming bloody 'eathen," Jarvis panted. "They're h'after the submarine!"
Dave dragged him behind an ice-covered boulder.
"Quick!" he whispered. "If the submarine goes, we go with her, inside or outside, somewhere. We've got to take the chance."
Darting from ice-pile to ice-pile, they soon reached the water's edge.There lay the guard, unconscious, an ugly bruise on the side of his head.And there lay the submarine, silent and closed.
"She's off!" breathed the engineer.
It was true. The craft already showed a line of dark water between her and the shore.
Without hesitation, the old engineer sprang upon her deck and crouched by the conning-tower. Instantly Dave followed him. Their soft skin-boots made no sound. And, as they crouched there, the submarine headed for the channel and then toward the west.
"To the treasure city, h'I'll be bound," whispered Jarvis.
"We'll stick 'ere behint th' connin'-tower," the engineer explained to Dave, as the submarine, turning, put off up the dark channel which separated the solid shore-ice from the great drift of ice-floe that lay beyond.
"If they submerge," suggested Dave, "we'll have a slim chance."
"H'I doubt if they understant that much," mumbled the engineer between chattering teeth. "H'anyway, right 'ere's where h'I stick, h'and once th' bloomin' 'eathen show a 'ead above the 'atchway, h'I 'ates t' think what'll 'appen to 'im."
"Perhaps the channel will close in and drive them ashore," suggested Dave hopefully, as he drew his mackinaw more closely about him and crouched nearer to the conning-tower, that he might avoid the cutting air and icy spray which reached him from the prow of the submarine.
"Mayhap," mumbled the engineer, snuggling close.
But the channel did not close. Also, the submarine did not submerge; it plowed straight on through the dark waters of the channel.
Night passed and the pale Arctic sun revealed the two figures huddling, half-frozen, behind the conning-tower. Daylight brought little comfort, serving only to remind them that they had no coffee for breakfast; indeed, had no breakfast at all. This set the engineer to muttering threats against the stranger who had stolen the submarine, and caused him for the hundredth time to remark:
"H'I 'ates t' think what'll 'appen t' 'em, once h'I gets me 'ands on 'em."
But the intruders stayed below while, slowly, the sun ran its brief course and then painted the ice-spires with shadows of deep purple. As the night came on, the two men were forced to move about to keep from freezing. Tip-toeing along, avoiding heavy glass windows, they conversed in low tones.
"We've been h'at h'it now goin' h'on twenty-four 'ours," murmured Jarvis. "H'it's two hundred h'an' forty miles, h'an' h'our course u'd be shorter than a reindeer's. H'if that bloomin' 'eathen that spoke of th' treasure city told truth, h'I'm one fer believin' we're nearin' th' spot."
Jarvis spoke more cheerfully than he had at any time during the strange journey. Dave smiled, as he wondered whether this was due to the fact their walk had warmed them somewhat, or his rising hopes that they would at least get to see the fabled treasure city.
"Tell me," Jarvis whispered, "do my h'old h'eyes deceive me, or h'is there a line of dark h'over t' th' right of y'?" His hand trembled as he pointed.
Dave looked long and earnestly. The moon shone very brightly. The snow brought out dark objects with such vividness that it would not be too much to expect to see large objects twenty miles away.
"I think your eyes are all right," he said slowly.
"Then that 'ud be th' forest by the river. Th' treasure city 'ud be just by the 'arbor h'at th' mouth of th' river, Dave. H'I 'ates t' think 'ow richer we'll be." The old man gripped Dave's hand.
As for Dave, he was silent. He was thinking first of the struggle that could not now be far distant. It would be a bitter fight, with odds in favor of the other party. However, he hoped the enemy had been weakened by the earlier combat. Then he thought of the men they had so unexpectedly left behind; of the Doctor who depended upon him, and of the gobs who had served under him, a boy, so faithfully. Such thoughts left him in no mood to think of treasure.
He was about to say as much to his companion when there came a rattle at the hatch of the sub.
Quickly he and the engineer crouched behind the conning-tower. Their breath coming hard, their hearts beating fast, they waited.
The throbbing of the engine stopped. The submarine glided silently on. The deathlike stillness was ended by the dull groan of a hatchway lifting. Armed each with a knife and a heavy ice-anchor, the two men waited.
* * * * *
In the meantime, during this twenty-four hours, so eventful to Dave and the engineer, other things were happening on the shore by the native village. When Rainey, who had been on guard at the time of the stealing of the "sub," had been found and brought back to consciousness, he could give no account of affairs, other than that he had been struck a violent blow on the head, and after that, remembered nothing.
For a single moment dark suspicion rested on Dave and the engineer. Some of the crew had heard them talking of the treasure city ten days' journey to the west, and had heard Jarvis remark that he "'ated t' think 'ow rich they'd be." Could it be possible they had seized the submarine and deserted the party for the sake of gain to themselves? For a moment faith wavered, then their better natures triumphed.
"Not them," they declared. "Not Dave and old Jarvis."
To this the Doctor heartily agreed. And, though his disappointment was great at having the expedition again delayed, and, perhaps, entirely thwarted, he turned his mind at once to matters of the hour.
Gathering his men about him, he outlined hastily a line of action for them in the present crisis. They were, he reasoned, in a perilous situation.
Several hundred miles west of any point reached by white whalers and traders, marooned with two hundred superstitious natives, who to-day worshipped them, but to-morrow, upon discovering the disappearance of the "spirit-whale," might turn upon them, they would be obliged to make use of every resource and every strategy to save their lives, should the submarine fail to return. His plan was, to deal fairly with the natives and keep their good will, if that were possible.
Fortunately, they had taken from the submarine ten good rifles with a hundred rounds of ammunition. Natives were seen at all hours of the day dragging behind them the carcasses of seal, oogrook (big-seal), and even polar bear. If these could be secured with the aid of such primitive weapons as harpoon and lance, they with their rifles might hope to secure an ample supply of the meat. And it had been proved that even a white man could live the winter through on a diet of meat and blubber in right proportions. They might also, at times, be able to trade for reindeer meat.
They would remain at the village until no hope remained that the submarine would return, then they would endeavor to get a store of meat, some reindeer, and deerskin sleeping bags, and make their way east to some point reached in summer by traders.
Three of the large skin-houses had already been turned over to them by the natives. These would provide ample shelter. Two were at once arranged as bunk-houses and the third as cook-shack.
When this had been done, with two men on guard, they turned in and slept.
Next morning, at six o'clock, four hours before daylight, every man was called out and assigned duties. It was the custom of the natives to depart for the hunting-ground at that hour. They should follow the same custom. Dividing themselves into two parties, one to watch camp, the other to hunt, they immediately set about their tasks.
The first day's hunt was under the direction of Azazruk, the Eskimo. The results were more than gratifying. Two ringed seals, one oogrook, ten feet long, and one young polar bear were the bag for the day.
"A full week's supply of meat," smiled the Doctor, rubbing his hands in high glee. In his interest in this new game, he had for the moment quite forgotten his great disappointment at the loss of the sub.
It was while they were smacking their lips over a hamburger, made of bear meat, that they were surprised by a young native, who rushed into their tent without the accustomed shouted salutation, seemingly quite beside himself with fear.
For some time nothing intelligible could be gathered from his excited chatter. But finally Azazruk made out that only an hour before, as he watched the reindeer, a great hairy monster had dashed at the herd, scattering it far and wide, and carrying away a yearling buck as easily as if it had been a rabbit.
"Probably a white bear," suggested Rainey.
"Not probable," said the Doctor. "A bear would eat his prey where it was slain."
"A wolf?"
"Couldn't do it."
"Well, what then?"
All eyes were turned toward the Doctor.
"You will judge me insane if I tell you what I think it was," he answered. "But here you are; I think it was a tiger."
"A tiger?"
"Tiger?"
Every man voiced his unbelief.
"A tiger in the Arctic?"
"Impossible!"
"That's absurd."
For answer the Doctor drew from his notebook a newspaper clipping, bidding Rainey read it aloud. The article was entitled "THE RUSSIAN TIGER" and was an account of the slaying of a gigantic man-eater by an American officer when American troops were stationed at Vladivostok, in eastern Russia.
"At that point," explained the Doctor, "they have about eight months of winter with a thermometer that drops far below zero. It may well be considered a part of the Arctic. Yet, as you see, they have tigers there; indeed, I am told they are not at all uncommon. So why not up here?" No one had a ready answer, and at last the Doctor spoke again:
"In the meantime, what are we going to do about it? It would seem that the natives are appealing to us for aid."
Rainey at once sprang to his feet, exclaiming:
"Count me one to go hunt the beast, whatever it is."
At once the others were on their feet shouting their eagerness for the hunt.
The Doctor chose a gob named Thompson to accompany Rainey on his "tiger hunt," or whatever it might prove to be. Rainey was well pleased at the choice, for Thompson was a sure shot and a cool, nervy hand in time of danger.
"If I don't hear from you by morning," said the Doctor, "I shall send a relief expedition."
Rainey had fully recovered from the affair of the previous day. Both he and Thompson had been among the guarding party that day, so were fresh and keen for work. They found the moonlight making the wide stretches of ice and snow light as day.
"Somenight andsomegame!" murmured Rainey, as they emerged from the tent.
* * * * *
When the men in native garb, who had stolen the submarine, lifted the hatch to take an observation, they were utterly unaware of the presence of two figures crouching behind the conning-tower. This, in spite of the fact that the men wore their long knives strapped to their waists, gave Dave and the engineer a decided advantage—an advantage they were not slow to make the most of.
Fortunately, the robbers crowded up the hatchway, all eager to catch a first view of the reputed gold valley, in which lay the treasure city.
As the third head peeped above the hatch, Jarvis sprang at them. Swinging his ice-anchor, an ugly cudgel of bent iron with a chilled steel point, he sent two of the villains sprawling at a single blow. Meanwhile, Dave, who had grappled with the third man, made a misstep and together they plunged down the hatchway. His opponent landed full on Dave's stomach, and so crushed the breath from him that for a second the lad could not move. But instantly, he realized that he must act. The man was attempting to draw his long knife. Thrusting out a hand, Dave gripped the point of the blade in its soft leather sheath so tightly that it could not be withdrawn.
Struggling with every ounce of strength, the two men were rolling over and over on the deck. The stranger was heavier and evidently older than Dave, but the American had one advantage. He was dressed only in woolens. The heavy skin clothing of his antagonist hampered his action. In spite of this, Dave felt himself losing out in the battle. The stranger's hand was gripping closer and closer to his throat, and he felt his own hand losing its hold on the knife-blade, when he heard a welcome roar from the hatchway. It was Jarvis. With one leap he was at Dave's side. For an old man, he was surprisingly quick. Yet, he was not too quick, for the murderous knife was swinging above Dave's chest and a hand was at his throat, when Jarvis clove the assailant's skull with his ice-anchor.
With a groan the man collapsed. The knife clattered to the deck. Jarvis dropped to the floor panting.
"Are you hurt?" he gasped.
"No! Are you?"
"Not a scratch. Some jolly little weapon, them ice-h'anchors. H'I'll wear one of 'em h'in me belt from now on! H'I 'ates t' think 'ow cold th' water was when h'I pitched 'em h'in, them other two."
"Kill 'em?"
"Not that bad. But mebby they'll drown. H'I'll go see. H'I'd 'ate t' see 'em climbin' back."
He hurried up the hatchway, followed closely by Dave.
Not a sign of the two men was to be seen, either on the submarine, in the water or on the solid shore-ice, a few rods away.
"What d' y' think of that?" asked Jarvis, mopping his brow. "They're gone!"
"Perhaps they drowned."
"Mebbe drowned—mebby they're 'id h'in th' h'ice."
"Well, anyway, we're rid of them," said Dave. "We'll sew the dead one up in a blanket and throw him overboard; then we'll be going back. Think how all fussed up the Doctor will be." The boy chuckled.
"Going back?" Jarvis stared, as if unable to believe his ears. "Going back? And the treasure city within peep of h'our h'eyes. Going back, did y' say? H'I 'ates t' think 'ow rich we'll be, you an' me."
The sun was setting behind the dark line of timber. Some object at a point where the timber ended and the tundra began cast back the sunlight with a golden glow.
"D' y' see it, lad?" exclaimed the excited old man. "D'y'see it?H'it's gold."
When Rainey and Thompson, accompanied by the native, left the village to hunt the strange creature that was working havoc with the village reindeer herd, they walked directly away from the rows of deerskin houses toward the tundra at the foot of the hills where, some five miles away, the deer were herded.
The five miles were accomplished mostly in silence. Each man was busy with his own thoughts. As for the little native, he seemed quite without fear as long as he was with the powerful "spirits of dead whales."
When they approached the brown line of the herd that spread itself across the horizon, the boy led them around it to a point beyond where the beast attacked the young deer.
There, though the ground had been much trampled by the maddened herd, they found many traces of the attack. Splotches of blood stained the snow and made a well-defined trail where the creature had carried off its prey. Soon they were beyond the patches of trampled snow and then the native left them to follow the trail alone.
Faintly, from the distance, came the rattle and clatter of reindeer antlers as the herd moved about. Above them, in all its silver glory, shone the moon. Now and again the hunters gave a start, as a ptarmigan, roused from its slumbers, went whirring away. To them every purple shadow of rock or bush or snow-pile might be the beast crouching over his kill.
"The Doctor's right!" exclaimed Rainey, bending over the trail, which still showed a bloodspot here and there. "It's no polar bear—here's the scratch of his claws where he climbed this bank. Polar bears have no claws, only a sort of hard lump on the end of each toe."
"No wolf, either," said Thompson, examining the tracks carefully. "The scratches are too long and too far apart. But, for that matter, who would even dream of a wolf large enough to carry off a two hundred pound deer?"
The beast's soft paws on the snow, hard-packed by Arctic winds, left a trail very difficult to follow. But, bit by bit, they traced it out.
At last the creature, having climbed a hill, had taken down a narrow ravine where scrub willows grew thick. And here they found unmistakable evidence that it had been some form of a great cat that had passed this way.
"Just like a cat's track," said Rainey. "And look at the size of 'em; must measure five inches across!"
They paused at the edge of the willows. They were brave men, but not fools. Only fools would venture into that thicket, where every advantage would be on the side of the lurking monster.
"There's a ridge up there running right along the side of this scrub," said Rainey. "We'll climb up there and walk along it. May get a glimpse of him. Then, again, he may have come out on the other side and gone on."
They climbed the bank and started along the ridge. Every yellow bunch of dead willow leaves at once became for the moment a crouching tiger, but each, in turn, was passed up. So they walked the ridge and had passed the willow clump, when Rainey gripped his companion's arm, whispering:
"What's that down there to the right? I think I saw it move."
Thompson gazed down the narrow pass for a moment, then whispered:
"C'mon. It's the very old chap. We can skirt the next bank of rocks and be right above him. We're in luck. It will be an easy shot!"
Creeping on hands and knees, with bated breath and nerves a-tingle, the boys came presently to a point above the half-hidden beast. As they peered down at him they could barely suppress exclamations of surprise. It was, indeed, a tiger. And such a tiger! Never, in any zoo or menagerie, had they seen his equal. He was a monster, with massive head, deep chest and powerful limbs; and his thick fur—nature's protection against the Arctic cold—seemed to emphasize both his size and his savageness.
"You're the best shot," whispered Rainey. "Try him!"
Thompson lifted his rifle and with steady nerve aimed at a point back of the fore-leg.
The tiger, who up to this time had apparently neither heard nor scented them, but had been crouching half asleep beside his mangled prey, seemed suddenly to become aware of their presence. Just as the rifle cracked, he sprang up the bank. His deafening roar told that the bullet had found a mark, but it did not check his charge.
Then came a catastrophe. Rainey leaned too far forward, causing some rocks and loose snow to slide from beneath him, and, in another second he shot down a steep incline to what seemed certain death.
To his surprise, he found himself dropping straight down. A hidden cliff here jutted out over the drifted snow. To his much greater surprise, instead of being knocked senseless, he was immediately engulfed in what seemed an avalanche of snow leaping up to meet him. His alert mind told him what had happened. A blizzard of a few days previous had driven great quantities of snow against the cliff. This snow was not hard-packed, and he had been buried in it by the fall. The problem now was to avoid the tiger, who was sure to spring upon him at the first glimpse and tear him in pieces. Then, suddenly, there flashed through his mind a picture left over from his boyhood days. It was that of a cat endeavoring to catch a mole, which burrowed industriously beneath the snow, raising a ridge as he burrowed. Could he play the part of the mole, as the tiger was sure to play the part of the cat? It was his only chance. His companion would not dare to shoot until he knew where Rainey was.
Putting himself in the position of a swimmer, the sailor began pawing at the snow and kicking it with his feet. The snow was hard packed against his face and he thought his lungs would burst. But he was making progress. Now, he dared back off a trifle and take a long breath of air from the burrow he had made. Then a sound stirred him to renewed effort. It was the thud and jar of an impact. The tiger, having made his first leap, had missed. How many more times would he do this? The boy once more jamming his head against the snow renewed his swimming motions. Again he was obliged to pause for breath. Again the tiger sprang; this time, seemingly, he was more accurate. Again the race was renewed. The boy's mind was in a whirl. Would his companion understand and risk a shot as the tiger prepared for another spring? He hoped so. Surely, he could not endure the strain much longer. One thing he was certain of, he could not hear the report of the rifle if a shot were fired. He must struggle on in ignorance of what was going on above him. The thought was maddening. The air in the narrow channel was stifling; yet, he burrowed on, and heard again the heavy impact.
He had burrowed his length and backed off again for breath, when he was forced to the realization that he could endure the air of the channel no longer. Apparently, the tiger's last leap had completely closed it.
Resolving to fight his way out, and then to trust all to flight, he thrust his hands upward and again began to burrow. With dizzy brain and wildly beating heart, he felt at length the fresh, frosty air upon his cheek.
But what was this that reached his ears? Surely not the roar of the tiger. Instead it was the joyous cry of his companion.
Dragging the snow from his eyes, Rainey stared about him. There, not five paces from him, lay the tiger with a bullet in his brain, while beside the body stood Thompson.
"Well," said the hunter with a grin, "you're sure some mouse!"
"And you're some shot!" said Rainey, floundering through the snow to his companion's side. "I guess that's the finest tiger skin in the world."
"It's yours as much as mine," answered Thompson. "We'll go share and share alike."