  After locating the six abandoned igloos, the boys were too tired to go on without a rest, and they immediately unharnessed the dogs and pitched their tupiks or tents. They soon were gathered about a tiny camp stove listening to the musical murmurings of a pot of tea. “Well, so far so good,” said Dick, stretching his legs and lying back comfortably. “If we have no more trouble than this tracing Corporal Thalman’s route the rest of the way, we can pat ourselves on the back.” “Yes, and we’d better make quick work of it,” Sandy rejoined. “Do you notice how low the sun is getting these days? Pretty soon we’ll begin to have twilight, and that means winter is about with us.” “You mean the long night,” said Dick. “Well, in a way I hope we get our business done up here before winter sets in, and in a way I don’t.” “Why?” Sandy asked, puzzled. “It must be a wonderful experience,” Dick returned, “to live four months without seeing the sun, nothing but the stars and once in a while the moon to give any light. And not even the stars when it’s cloudy. They say it gets so dark during the long night up here that you can pretty near reach out of your igloos and bring in a handful of darkness.” “That must be awful,” Sandy wagged his head ruefully. “I can’t see what you want to endure all that for. Think of the thermometer going down to 60 degrees below zero, and what if we ran out of food?” “I guess we could winter up here alright if we had to do it,” Dick returned. “The Eskimos are laying up tons of walrus and seal blubber. Besides, there’s that narwhal, and we’re going to bag a few musk-oxen pretty soon.” “Me no like um blubber,” Toma spoke up vehemently. “No eat um blubber all winter.” “Me too,” Sandy agreed emphatically. “I guess you fellows would think blubber was pretty good if there wasn’t anything else to chew on except sealskin boots.” The conversation had grown unpleasant in this vein, so the boys changed the subject to the map, which Dick spread out in the snow and explained to Toma, as he had promised. But their eyes soon grew heavy with sleep, and after finishing their scanty rations of frozen bear meat, they retired, Dick standing the first watch. When each of them had had about five hours’ rest, they ate more bear meat, drank a pot of tea and were ready for the trail. The problem now ahead of them was the scaling of the glacier, towering in a low range of mountains about two miles from the abandoned igloos. The map indicated no exact route to the top of the glacier, except that from the abandoned igloos there was a change of course somewhat to the southwest. They had been on the trail only half an hour when Toma’s keen eyes detected signs of musk-oxen. The Indian boy showed Dick and Sandy the marks of the hoofs in the snow. “We’d better see if we can’t shoot a few of the fellows that made these tracks,” Dick advised. “We can leave the meat cached in ice and covered with stones. Then when we return we can pick it up on an empty sledge.” Sandy was eager for the hunt and so the boys swung off the course they had been following, and began trailing the musk-oxen. The tracks were quite fresh and they all looked at their rifles to see that they were ready for quick shooting. Since they never before had hunted musk-oxen, they did not know just what to expect. They had trailed the musk-oxen about half a mile when, climbing out of a ravine, they came suddenly upon them. There were five of the strange creatures huddled in a circle, tail to tail, save for one, who stood out from the rest facing the young hunters. For several minutes the boys stood still before the shaggy beasts, who seemed not to fear them in the least. Dick was first to shake off his attack of “buck fever.” Raising his rifle, he took careful aim at the animal nearest them. He chose a vulnerable spot, and at the crack of his rifle, the musk-ox sank to his knees, tried ineffectually to rise, and at last rolled over and expired. Dick’s shot awakened Sandy and Toma from the trance into which the first sight of the creatures had thrown them, and each of them picked an animal from the band, bringing them down with a shot each. All fired again, and though the last of the five made an awkward attempt to run away, they brought it down together. “It’s a shame to shoot such quiet, peaceful brutes,” said Sandy as they hurried up to the brownish forms in the snow. “That meat means life for us,” replied Dick, “and maybe God put them here for just that purpose.” Sandy’s feeling of remorse over the shooting of the musk-oxen soon disappeared after they reached the fallen herd. As zoological specimens the musk-oxen were food for thought, and when the boys had finished examining the huge gnarled horns and the broad, rounded backs, there was the cutting up of the meat to be performed. So intent did they become upon the latter task that for a time they forgot entirely their surroundings. It was Toma whose sharp ears first sensed that they were not alone. He spoke a few guttural words to Dick and Sandy in an undertone, and all three reached for their rifles. When they turned to face the ravine up which they had climbed just before sighting the musk-oxen, they could hear the crunch of snowshoes. Prepared for the worst, they brought their rifles to their hips and cocked them. A scowling, fur-bordered face appeared over the edge of the ravine, paused a moment, then finished the climb followed by two more unprepossessing individuals clad in worn, soiled furs. The three paused on the brow of the ravine, silently inspecting the boys. Dick recognized the one who was in advance of the others as the white man he had seen in Mistak’s band. He was certain the other two were likewise outlaws. “What do you want?” called Dick. “Nothin’ pertic’lar, yonker,” replied the white man. “It just happens we’ve been a-huntin’ these here musk-ox you’se has shot.” “It happens we saw them before you did,” returned Dick suspiciously. “Wal, I guess you wuz luckier than we’ns, but that’s no call f’r us to hold a grudge against each other,” said the man, starting forward. “That’s far enough!” Dick’s clear voice rang out in the icy air, as the rifle came to his shoulder. He was sure the three outlaws meant no good, and made sure he had some advantage if it came to open hostilities. The white man paused and scowled. “Think y’r pretty sly, eh! I guess I oughta agreed with Mistak ’bout puttin’ you yonkers out of business while we had the chance.” “It happens I overheard you talking to Mistak about that when you thought Sandy and I were asleep in the igloo. You suggested we be put with Corporal Thalman,” Dick replied sternly. The white man started visibly. “Thalman!” his voice came hoarsely from his bearded lips. “What do you yonkers know ’bout Thalman?” There was plain menace in the man’s attitude now. Dick was almost on the point of blurting out some valuable information, when he caught himself. “Nothing,” he answered reservedly, “only the Mounted Police are looking for—er—his body.” “I reckon that’s all they’ll find, an’ it’s pretty doubtful if they find that,” sneered Mistak’s man, seeming relieved that the boys apparently had no specific knowledge of Corporal Thalman’s fate. Had the man dreamed of the manuscript that had floated into Sandy’s hands, of the map now reposing in Dick’s pocket, he probably would have signaled his companions to attack then and there. But he did not. “You fellers ain’t goin’ to let us go away empty handed,” the outlaw resumed, wheedlingly, looking hungrily at the five dead musk-oxen. “Shall we let them have some meat?” Dick asked Sandy, without taking his eyes from the outlaws, who were also covered by the rifles of Sandy and Toma. “Yes,” Sandy replied. “Let them have one of the musk-oxen. They’ll go away and leave us alone then.” Toma’s sanction to the gift was given by a mere grunt. “We’ve decided to let you have one of the musk-oxen since you’re hungry,” Dick told the spokesman of the three. “But it’s not because we fear you or think we owe it to you.” The white man turned to the half-breed Indians and muttered a few words in a foreign tongue. The boys indicated the musk-oxen farthest away from them as the one the men should take, and, keeping their rifles ready for any trickery that might be enacted, they watched the outlaws hasten forward and attack the meat with their knives. Soon the men had the animal quartered and had slung the fresh meat to their backs. The two half-breeds turned and climbed back into the ravine with their load, but the white outlaw tarried for a parting word. “This country ain’t healthy f’r you fellers,” he leered at them. “I’m givin’ y’r a tip on the strength o’ this meat. I ain’t sayin’ I’m in love with Mistak, but I reckon I hate the Mounted more. My moniker is Moonshine Sam, if you fellers want ter know, an’ it’s the Mounted that’s chased me into this God-f’rsaken land. They ain’t goin’ to git me here. Git that? Not afore I git me two more policemen!” Dick’s rifle came up quickly at the grim threat in the outlaw’s words, but Moonshine Sam turned abruptly and followed his companions down into the ravine. When the three were out of sight the boys breathed sighs of relief. It had been a trying ordeal, and they felt themselves fortunate in coming through it without blood-shed. “I wish we could have captured them,” Sandy expressed something that had been in Dick’s mind also. “But it was too risky,” Dick replied. “You must remember they were grown men, and among the most desperate characters the Mounted has to deal with. If we’d tried to capture them they’d have finished us before we reached the home camp.” Sandy saw the logic in Dick’s reasoning and said no more about it, while they set to work completing the skinning and quartering of the remaining four musk-oxen. “I think we’d better haul the meat away from here before we cache it,” Dick advised, when they were about finished. “Those fellows will probably come back here as soon as we leave, and search for a cache.” “Maybe it would be a good idea to follow them for a ways to see where they are going. They might lead us right to Corporal Thalman’s prison,” was Sandy’s suggestion. “That’s possible and it’s a good idea,” said Dick. “But supposing they strike off in some other direction, and lead us right into the rest of Mistak’s band?” “Well, I don’t know,” Sandy considered. “Take um meat ’long for way,” Toma spoke up gravely. “When find out bad fella not mean to come back here, cache meat.” “That’s just the thing to do!” exclaimed Dick. “We won’t lose any time that way and we’ll be pretty sure the meat will not be stolen when we come back after it.” In a few minutes the fresh meat was loaded onto the long sledge and they were once more on the way. The outlaws had had time to travel about half a mile before the boys set out on their trail, and even Toma’s keen eyes saw no sign of them as they wound down the ravine. Dick hoped, as Sandy had, that the outlaws might lead them to the vicinity of Corporal Thalman’s prison. Yet, when two miles on the trail, the snowshoe tracks they were following swung toward the sea, Dick knew no such good fortune was destined to be theirs. Half hoping the outlaws might turn toward the glacier again, the boys kept on following them for a short time, but soon gave up, deciding to depend entirely upon the map to guide them. Tracing the back trail until they reached the point where they had turned north after the outlaws, the boys halted to cache their meat, since they were now reasonably certain that Mistak’s men did not intend to come back looking for it. They first buried all the meat, except enough for four days’ rations, in a deep snow bank. Then, from a nearby patch of boulder strewn slope they carried a great many stones, erecting a sort of monument over the cache to prevent its being torn up by foxes. Over this cairn, they threw snow until it resembled, from a distance, the rest of the snowdrift. About a hundred feet north of the cache a small pile of stones was placed, as a landmark provided a storm came and obliterated all other signs of the cache. The job of stowing the meat completed, the boys once more set out for the glacier. Driving fast, they reached the towering walls of ice and snow in about an hour. Calling a halt they surveyed with sinking hearts the tremendous task that lay before them. “I wonder if this is the place where Mistak climbed the glacier with his prisoner,” Dick speculated. “Looks to me like a mountain goat would have a hard time getting to the top from this point,” said Sandy. “Heap big job get um sledge up ice from here. Look ’long wall. Maybe find easy place,” suggested Toma. “I think that’s what we’d better do,” Sandy agreed with the young Indian. Dick also thought it best they should look for an easier place to climb, and so they turned to the right under the walls of the glacier and drove the dog team slowly along, their necks craned upward. The grumbling noises in the bowels of the glacier gave cause for grave concern in the minds of the boys and they fell silent, dreading more and more the peril of ascending that mountain of ice. Not far from the place where they had first approached the glacier, they found the walls split as by a giant’s axe and a great gorge led upward at a slant which promised fairly easy climbing. Turning into this they started upward. A quarter mile of steady climbing, covered by helping the dogs with the supply sledge, and they found themselves about a hundred feet above the tundra. Here, they paused for a much needed rest. Probably five minutes they had sat in the snow, gathering strength for the next lap of the climb, when a low rumble fell upon their ears which seemed nearer than any other noises they had heard from the glacier. With faces paling, the boys listened intently, while the rumble increased to a roar, growing steadily nearer. Dick leaped up and looked up the gorge, a sudden suspicion leaping in his mind that froze him with consternation. He was about to speak when the unmistakable sound of crashing, moving ice was borne to his ears. Around a bend in the gorge appeared a gigantic mass of snow, ice and stones which struck the opposite wall of the gorge with a shock that made the earth tremble under foot and sent a shower of fine ice and snow high into the air. “Run for your lives!” cried Dick hoarsely. “It’s an avalanche, and we’re right in its path!” |
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