Kitabı oku: «First at the North Pole: or, Two Boys in the Arctic Circle», sayfa 6

CHAPTER XI – A SERIOUS LOSS

Having brought their game around to the shed attached to the cabin, the boys were glad enough to rest before the generous fire, while Professor Jeffer proceeded to cut out some choice moose meat, having been requested by Barwell Dawson to do so.

“The moose is yours,” Mr. Dawson said to the boys. “But I must have at least one steak, although it may be rather tough.”

“You can have as much as you like,” answered Chet. “I don’t think Andy wants it all, and I am sure I don’t.”

Darkness was settling down once more around the cabin, when Andy chanced to think of the papers concerning the land claim in Michigan. He had placed them in an inside pocket of his jacket, and now he inserted his hand to bring them forth, to make certain that they were safe.

“Oh!” he cried, and his heart began to beat wildly.

“What’s the matter?” queried Chet, who was near. “Hurt?”

“The papers!”

“What of them?”

“They are gone!”

“Gone?” repeated Chet, and now Professor Jeffer and Barwell Dawson listened with interest.

“Yes, gone – I can’t find them anywhere.” Andy rapidly went through every pocket in his clothing, and in the overcoat he had hung on a horn. “Yes, they are gone,” he groaned. “Oh, this is the worst luck yet!”

“But they must be somewhere around,” said Barwell Dawson. “Have you any idea where you dropped them?”

“No, although it might have been when I took that tumble in the snow.”

“If you lost ’em there, we ought to go back for ’em right away,” declared Chet. “The wind is rising, and that will drift the snow over ’em.”

A vain search was made around the cabin and the shed, and then, tired as he was, Andy donned his overcoat and cap to go out. Chet did the same.

“Oh, you needn’t mind, Chet,” said Andy.

“I just will mind, Andy. We are going to get those papers back,” was the brisk reply.

“Here, take a lantern,” said Professor Jeffer, and brought forth an acetylene lamp, similar to those used on bicycles. “That ought to help you find the papers,” he added.

In a minute more the two lads had set off through the snow. As Chet had said, the wind was rising, and it often caught the snow up in a mad whirl and hurled it into their faces.

“Phew! this is not so pleasant,” panted Chet, when they paused to catch their breath, having covered about a quarter of the distance to where Andy had fallen. “Takes the wind right out of a chap. But never mind, come on,” he continued, and started on once more.

The rays of the acetylene lamp lit up the way fairly well, and here and there they could see their former trail, although it was growing more indistinct every moment. The wind now whistled through the pines and spruces, – a sound as dismaying as it was lonely.

“Might have brought down some game, with the aid of this lamp,” said Chet, as they trudged forward on their snowshoes.

“I’m not looking for game just now.”

At last they reached what they thought was the spot where Andy had had the fall. So far they had seen no trace of the missing documents. Now they gazed around, much crestfallen. The hollow was completely filled with the drifting snow, and a ridge had formed, wiping out the trail utterly.

“I am going to try digging,” said Andy. “Wish I had brought a shovel along.”

The lamp was hung on the branch of a tree near by, and both youths set to work, shoving and kicking the snow to one side or another. Thus they worked, in something of a circle, for the best part of an hour. Not a trace of the papers could be seen anywhere.

“Maybe I lost them further back – where we found the moose,” said Andy. “I’m going to look. But you needn’t go with me if you don’t care to, Chet.”

“I’ll go where you go, Andy. I want to see you get those papers back.”

Again they moved forward, the wind and snow cutting each in the face, and sometimes almost blinding them. They had to rest twice before they reached the spot of Chet’s thrilling adventure.

Again the search began, and it was kept up until both lads were wellnigh exhausted from stooping over and “sifting” the snow. Andy straightened his back and gave a sigh.

“I guess it’s no use,” he groaned. “They are gone! I’ll never see them again! And that claim is gone, too!”

“Oh, don’t give up yet!” cried Chet, trying to cheer him up. “If we can’t locate them tonight, we’ll do it in the morning when the sun shines. They must be somewhere around. They made quite a package, with a rubber band around it, and such a package can’t vanish completely.”

To this Andy could only answer with a sigh. He doubted very much if the precious documents would ever come to light again.

Utterly fagged out, the boys turned their backs on the wind and made their way to Professor Jeffer’s cabin. Here they found the others anxiously awaiting their return.

“What luck?” sang out Barwell Dawson.

“None,” answered Andy, and dropped into a chair as tired out as he was disheartened.

“You’ll have to go out in the morning.”

“Just what I said,” came from Chet. “Oh, we’ll get those papers back, don’t worry.” But although he spoke thus lightly, it was only to cheer his chum up. He, too, was afraid the documents were gone forever.

Andy’s sleep was a troubled one. He dreamed that his Uncle Si was after him, and that both had a tussle in the snow over the papers. Then A. Q. Hopton came up with a pitchfork, speared the papers, and bore them off in triumph. He awoke to find Chet shaking him.

“Andy, stop your groaning!” Chet was saying. “You are going on to beat the band!”

“I guess I had a nightmare,” answered Andy, sheepishly. “What time is it?”

“Just getting daylight.”

“Then I am going to get up, eat a little breakfast, and start on another search for those papers.”

“Sure – and I’ll go along.”

The boys arose as quietly as possible, and dressing, went to the kitchen and prepared their morning meal of wheat cakes and a small moose steak, and coffee. They were just finishing the repast when Professor Jeffer showed himself.

“Up early, I see,” he said, with a smile.

“We are going to look for those papers again,” explained Chet.

“To be sure. Well, I trust you find them, although I am afraid you will have quite a search.”

The sun was just peering over the trees to the eastward when the two lads left the cabin. It promised to be a clear day. It was intensely cold, and the wind still blew, although not so hard as during the day and the night gone by.

Andy took the lead, and each boy strained his eyes to catch sight of anything that might look like the documents. Once Andy saw something at a distance, and ran to it with a rapidly beating heart. But it was nothing but a strip of birch bark, and again his heart sank.

The noon hour found them still on the hunt. Fortunately they had brought some lunch along in one of the game bags, and they sat down in a sunny and sheltered nook to eat this, warming up a can of coffee over a tiny campfire Chet kindled. Then the hunt was renewed, and kept up in various places until the sun began to go down over the woods to the westward.

“It will be dark in an hour more, Andy,” said Chet, kindly. “I guess we had better return to the cabin. We can come out again tomorrow, if you wish.”

“I – I don’t think it will be any use to come out again, Chet.” Andy’s voice was very unsteady. “I am afraid the papers are gone for good!”

“Oh, I wouldn’t give it up yet!”

“If I only knew where I had dropped them! But I don’t know. They may be right around here, and they may be half a mile away.”

It was with a downcast heart that Andy followed his chum back to the cabin. Somehow, he had hoped that the timber claim would prove a valuable one, and that he would get a goodly share of it. Now that hope was shattered.

“I won’t be able to prove a thing without the documents,” he told himself. “And it would be useless to try.”

That evening the matter was talked over by the men and the boys from every point of view, but nothing came of it. Barwell Dawson agreed with Andy that nothing could be accomplished until the missing documents were brought to light.

“I really think your uncle is to blame for this,” said the hunter. “If he had not acted as he did, you would not have been forced to run away, and then the papers might be safe and sound at your cabin.”

“I’d like to know what became of that A. Q. Hopton,” said Andy.

“Well, he didn’t get the papers, and that’s one comfort,” said Chet, with a sickly grin.

There was now no use in going to Lodgeport to see a lawyer, and instead, Andy and Chet went out again for another search. But this was as useless as the others. Not a trace of the missing documents could be found anywhere.

“Might as well give it up,” sighed Andy. “They are gone, and that is all there is to it.”

Again matters were talked over, and Barwell Dawson advised Andy to go home and face his uncle.

“If you wish, I’ll go with you,” said the hunter. “Perhaps I can get him to tell just what that A. Q. Hopton was up to.”

“I’d like it first-rate, if you would go along, Mr. Dawson,” answered the boy quickly.

“Want me along?” asked Chet.

“You might as well come,” answered Andy. “We can take some of the moose meat. The horns are yours, Chet.”

They set off for the Graham cabin on the following morning. Barwell Dawson’s ankle was now quite well, although he was prudently careful how he used it. It had cleared off rather warm, so the trip was a pleasant one. The boys had with them all the meat they could carry, and also their guns, and wore the snow-shoes Professor Jeffer had loaned them.

On the way Chet asked Barwell Dawson how soon he expected to start for the north.

“I hope to get the Ice King ready by the middle of February or first of March,” was the hunter’s reply. “You see, for such a trip we require an immense amount of stores, and of just the proper kinds. It won’t do to take stuff that will freeze and burst open. Once I remember I was up there, and had some bottles of catsup along. The bottles froze and burst, and we had catsup scattered all over the camp.”

“I suppose you can’t get much up there?” said Chet.

“Absolutely nothing outside of game – musk oxen, polar bears and hares, seal, walrus, and some birds. In some parts of Greenland you can get moss that you can put in soup, but it doesn’t amount to a very hearty meal. In a cold climate like that, one needs to eat plenty of meat, and the more fat, the better. The Esquimaux live on the fattest kind of meat they can get, and on blubber, and they think tallow candles a real delicacy.”

“Excuse me from eating candles,” said Andy.

“If you were real hungry, you’d eat anything,” answered Barwell Dawson, gravely. “I was once lost on the ice, and was glad enough to chew strips of seal hide to ease the pangs of hunger. When I got back to camp, my stomach was in such a condition that they fed me my first meal very carefully, just a bit at a time. If I had eaten my fill quickly, I might have died.”

CHAPTER XII – A LETTER OF INTEREST

“The place looks shut up,” observed Chet, when the party came in sight of the Graham homestead. “Not a bit of smoke, and the snow isn’t cleared away from the doorstep.”

“Maybe Uncle Si is sick and can’t get around,” answered Andy, quickly.

“Sick? Lazy, you mean,” returned his chum.

They advanced to the front door and knocked. There was no sound from within, and Andy walked around to the shed. The door was locked, but the key was on a shelf near by, and he quickly opened the door.

“Uncle Si is away,” he announced, as he walked through the cabin, and let the others come in. “My! but it’s cold here! We’ll have to start a fire right away.”

“I’ll do that,” answered Chet. “You sit down and rest that sore ankle,” he went on, to Barwell Dawson, and the hunter was glad to do as bidden.

While Chet started a lively blaze in the big open fireplace, Andy went through the cabin, looking for some trace of his uncle. Much to his surprise, he found Josiah Graham’s traveling bag missing, and also all of the man’s clothing.

“He has gone away!” he cried, and then caught sight of a letter, pinned fast to the top of a chest of drawers. The outside of the letter was addressed to Andy Graham. The communication was written in lead pencil, in a chirography anything but elegant, and ran as follows:

“My dere Nephy Andy i hav got a chanct to git a job up Haveltown way and i think I beter tak it you dont seme to car for to have me tak car of you so i am goin to leave you to tak car of yourself Mr. Hopton wanted to treet you square but you would knot listen so you must tak the konseakenses. he said the pappers aint much akont anyhowe. i leave my lov even if you dont lik me —

Josiah Graham”

It took some time for Andy to decipher the communication, and for the first time in his life he realized how very limited had been the education of his father’s half-brother. He read the epistle to Chet and Barwell Dawson.

“He has deserted you!” cried Chet. “Well, ‘good riddance to bad rubbish’ say I!”

“I think he was afraid that you would make trouble for him,” was Mr. Dawson’s comment. “He thought you would take those papers to some lawyer, or to the authorities, and tell how he tried to sell them to Mr. A. Q. Hopton on the sly.”

“I guess that’s the way it is,” said Andy. He drew a deep breath. “Well, I am glad to get rid of him so easily. I sincerely hope he stays away.”

“But he won’t stay away,” returned Chet. “He’ll wait until he thinks everything is all right again, and then he’ll sneak back, to live on you.”

“He’ll not live on me again,” declared Andy. “I know him thoroughly, now. If he wants to stay here he’ll have to work, the same as I do.”

“Well, you are in possession of your own,” declared Barwell Dawson, as he rested in the chair Uncle Si had used. “You can now take it as easy as you please,” and he smiled broadly.

“I don’t see how I am going to take it easy, if I can’t get work,” answered Andy, soberly. “A fellow can’t live on air. Of course, I can go out hunting and fishing and all that, but that isn’t earning a regular living.”

“You can’t get work anywhere? You look like a strong young man, and willing.”

“I am strong, and willing, too. But times are dull, and there are more men up here than there is work. If it wasn’t for having the cabin here, I think I’d try my chances elsewhere.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know – perhaps down in one of the towns.”

Andy invited Barwell Dawson to remain at the cabin for the rest of the day, and the invitation was accepted. The chums set to work to prepare a good dinner, and of this the hunter partook with great satisfaction.

“You boys certainly know how to cook,” he declared, as he finished up.

“A fellow has to learn cooking and everything, in a place like this,” answered Andy.

“It’s a good thing to know how to cook. I’ve found it so, many a time, when off on a hunt.”

“Mr. Dawson, I’d like to put a proposition to you,” burst out Andy. “Of course, if it doesn’t suit, all you’ve got to do is to say no. But I hope you will give it serious consideration.” And Andy looked at Chet, as much as to say, “Shall I go ahead?” To which his chum nodded eagerly.

“What is the proposition?”

“That you take Chet and me with you on your trip north. I know you would prefer men, but we are not so young, and each of us is strong and healthy, and we can do about as much as a man. We are both used to cold weather, and to roughing it, and you know we can shoot, and tramp over the ice and snow – and cook. We talked this over between us, and we’d like to go very much. We don’t want any pay, or any reward. All we want is our food, and some ammunition, and we are perfectly willing to rough it along with the rest. We are both practically alone in the world, so nobody will be worried over us, even if we don’t come back alive.”

“Yes, but you want to come back, don’t you?” asked Barwell Dawson, quizzically.

“Of course. But we realize the danger, and we are ready to face it.”

“We’ll go wherever you go,” broke in Chet. “And we’ll do just whatever you want us to do. As Andy says, we are used to roughing it, and I think both of us can stand as much as anybody. Why, I don’t know that I’ve had a sick day in my life.”

“And I have been sick very little – none at all since I grew up,” added Andy.

The hunter and explorer looked sharply at the two boys. He saw by the clear look in their eyes that they were honest to the core, and in earnest in all they said.

“Well, it is something not to have any family ties,” he said. “I have two friends who wish to go along, but both have wives, and one has two children. I don’t think it would be fair to take them. I am a bachelor myself, and my relatives do not care what I do. I believe if I died, all some of them would think about would be my money.” He added the last words rather bitterly.

“Then you will consider taking us?” pleaded Andy.

“Yes, I will consider it. But I must think it over a week or two before I give you my answer. When a man plans such a trip as this, he cannot be too careful as to who are his companions. I must say I like you lads very much, and I haven’t forgotten how you aided me at the cliff. But I must have time to think it over carefully, and make a few inquiries.”

With this the lads had to be content, and for the time being the subject was dropped. But later on Barwell Dawson showed his interest by asking them a great number of questions about themselves.

“I think he’ll take us along,” whispered Chet to Andy, on retiring for the night. “And I sincerely hope he does. It may give me a chance to find out what became of the Betsey Andrews and my father.”

“Don’t be too sure of our going,” answered Andy. “If you are, you may be bitterly disappointed.”

In the morning it was decided that the two lads should accompany Barwell Dawson to the lodge he had occupied back of Moose Ridge. They went along gladly, wishing to become better acquainted with the hunter and explorer. The storm had now cleared away entirely, the wind had died down, and the clear sun shone upon the ice and snow with great brilliancy.

On the way the party managed to pick up some small game, and Barwell Dawson showed his skill by hitting a partridge at a great distance. He shot with ease, showing that he was thoroughly familiar with the use of firearms. He even gave the boys “points” for which they were grateful.

“He certainly knows how to shoot,” said Andy to Chet. “I don’t see how he missed that moose.”

“He lost his footing, that’s how,” was the reply. “The very best of sportsmen miss it sometimes.”

“Isn’t he a splendid fellow, Chet!”

“The finest I’ve met. Oh, I do hope he takes us along with him!”

When the lodge was reached the boys built a fire and cooked another appetizing meal, the hunter meanwhile resting his ankle, which was still sore. The reader can rest assured that Andy and Chet did their best over the meal, for they wanted to let Mr. Dawson know of their real abilities in the culinary line. The repast was as much liked as the other had been.

“If you go with me, I’ll have to throw out the man I was going to take for a cook,” declared the hunter and explorer. “I don’t believe anybody could serve food better than this.”

“Oh, we’ll do the cooking all right!” declared Chet, enthusiastically.

“Of course there will be a ship’s cook,” explained Mr. Dawson. “But he won’t go along over the ice and snow. He’ll have to remain with the sailors on the ship.”

“How many will be in the party to leave the ship?” asked Andy.

“I don’t know yet – probably five or six, and the Esquimaux.”

Having reached Barwell Dawson’s lodge, the party settled down for a week, to hunt and to take it comfortably. During that time the hunter and explorer asked Chet much about himself and his father.

“We must try to find out about that whaler as soon as I go back to town,” said Barwell Dawson. “Somebody ought to know something about her.”

During the week the hunter and the boys became better friends than ever. The man liked the frank manner of the lads, and Andy and Chet were fascinated by the stories the explorer had to tell.

“I am going down to Portland next week,” announced Barwell Dawson one day. “If you both want to go along and see the city, I’ll take you, and foot the bill. Then we can go up to the little town where the Ice King is being fitted out, and you can let me know what you think of the ship.”

This proposal filled the boys with delight, and they accepted on the spot. Both Andy and Chet made hurried trips to their cabin homes, and came back with the best of their belongings in their grips. Then they helped Barwell Dawson pack up; and two days later started for Pine Run.

There was mild surprise in the village when it was learned the two boys were going away, even though it might be only for a short while. To nobody in the village did Barwell Dawson mention his proposed trip to the frozen north.

“They wouldn’t understand it, and it would only make me out an object of idle curiosity,” he explained to the boys.

From the general storekeeper Andy learned that his Uncle Si had tried to borrow ten dollars, but without success. The storekeeper said Josiah Graham and Mr. A. Q. Hopton had had a bitter quarrel, and parted on bad terms. He did not know where either individual was now.

“Well, let Uncle Si shift for himself,” said Andy to Chet. “It will do him good.”

“Right you are, Andy. But what a shame that you lost those papers.”

“Oh, don’t mention them, Chet. It makes me feel bad every time I think of it.”

“You ought to go back some day and take another look for them. I’ll help you.”

“Yes, I intend to go back – if not right away, then when the snow clears off.”

“Provided we are not bound north by that time.”

“Yes, provided we are not bound for the Pole!”