"How much do you know about this case?" asked Tommy of Frank, as the two stumbled over the uneven moraine.
"How much do I know about what?" asked Frank.
"Why, this case that your father talked with you about when he used the wireless; the case referred to in the code message."
"Why, I know that you boys are out here in search of the print of a man's right thumb!" laughed Frank.
"Is that all?"
"Yes, I know a little more than that. I know that two men are soon to be tried for burglary, and that the discovery of the thumb marks is quite essential to a successful defense."
"Did your father tell you all that?"
"Oh, we talked quite a lot by wireless."
Tommy considered the situation for a moment and then said:
"I wish you'd tell me all you know about it."
In as few words as possible, Frank related the story practically as told to George and Sandy by Will.
"Does Bert know all about this?" asked Tommy when the recital was finished. "Did you talk the matter over with him?"
"I certainly did."
"I hope," Tommy mused, "that he wasn't forced to tell anything about the thumb marks when the man robbed him."
"I don't think he would do that," suggested Frank. "He would be apt to plead ignorance."
The boys came, about nine in the evening, to the little station of Katalla, which is just a mite of a town sitting perched high above the Gulf of Alaska. The first thing they did was to make inquiries at the water front regarding transportation to Cordova.
As they passed swiftly from point to point, consulting a half-breed here, an Esquimaux there, and an American trader at another point, they noticed that they were being followed. Finally Tommy drew back and waited until the man who seemed to be pursuing them came up.
"Are you looking for me?" he asked.
"I would like to speak with you," was the reply.
"Well, then, why didn't you come up like a man and say so?" demanded Tommy. "You needn't have skulked along in the dark!"
"Fact is," the man answered, "that I heard you making inquiries regarding the possibility of getting to Cordova tonight."
"Yes, that's where we want to go."
"Have you secured transportation yet?"
"We have not!" Tommy answered.
"Well, I was going to let you inquire at one more place," said the other, "and then tender you the use of my boat."
"Why were you going to wait?"
"Because I wanted you to exhaust your last chance so that I could get my own price for the service."
"You must be a Yankee!" laughed Tommy.
"Right!" was the reply. "I'm a Yankee direct from Boston. I don't have many opportunities of acquiring wealth out here, and I smelt real money as soon as I saw you boys come to town a couple of days ago."
"What kind of a boat have you?" asked Tommy.
"A swift little motor boat."
"Can you get us to Cordova and back by seven or eight in the morning?"
"I don't think I can do the job as soon as that, but I'll do the best I can! Why are you in such a hurry?"
"There's a boy sick at the camp!" was the short reply.
"How much are you going to charge for the use of your boat?" asked Frank. "We're willing to pay for fast service."
"I think a couple of hundred dollars will be about right," was the reply. "It's a little bit risky going out in the night."
Tommy was about to protest against the exorbitant charge, but Frank motioned him to remain silent.
"The price is satisfactory," he said. "When can you start?"
"In an hour," was the answer.
After promising to meet the boys at the floating dock in an hour's time, the owner of the motor boat took his departure, and the two lads dropped into a smoky and smelly restaurant for supper.
The place was foul with evil language as well as evil smells, and the boys did not remain long. Instead of sitting down at the table and ordering their meal, they bought such provisions as they could get and took their way to the water front. When they sat down to eat their rather unpalatable repast, they saw that a boy of about their own size and age was loitering not far away.
"I'll gamble you a five cent piece," Tommy whispered to Frank, "that that is a Boy Scout! What do you say?"
"You're on!" exclaimed Frank.
Tommy struck three times on the planking of the dock with his open hand. Instantly there came back to his ears the low snarling voice of a bulldog. Then footsteps advanced down the dock, and the boy soon stood close to the others.
"You're a Beaver?" he asked.
"And you're a Bulldog!" said Tommy.
The boys presented their hands, palm out, in the full salute of the Boy Scouts and then stood examining each other's faces.
"Where's the Bulldog Patrol located?" asked Tommy.
"Portland, Oregon," was the reply.
"Do you live here now?" asked Frank, who had already been introduced as a member of the Fox Patrol.
"I'm obliged to live here," was the answer, "because I can't get out of town. I wish I could get away!"
"You may go with us," offered Tommy.
"Where?" was the question.
"To Cordova tonight, and to a camp out on a glacier tomorrow."
"Tickled to death!" exclaimed the boy.
"You're welcome!" declared Tommy;
"Who're you going with?" was the next question.
"He didn't give us his name, but he said he owned a fast motor boat, and he said he'd get us there and back before noon tomorrow!"
"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 over-board 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.
"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!"
"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 leggins. 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 leggins, 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 leggins?"
"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 leggins 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.
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!" be 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.
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!"
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 leggins, 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 leggins?"
"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".