The Scouts had joined in the cry which notified the pilot house that a man had gone overboard, but before the “Queen” lost headway and began to back the man in the water had slipped some distance astern. Life preservers and life rings were quickly thrown after him, but no sooner had the derelict come to the surface than it was seen that he was dazed and almost helpless from the effects, probably, of some injury he had sustained as he went through the gangway. Luckily, the gangway gate, which he had pushed out had floated alongside of him on the tideway, and he had retained consciousness enough to grasp one side of it with a drowning man’s grip, but was in danger of momentarily losing it. The boys with Colonel Snow at their head had rushed along the upper rail, where Rand began at once to strip off his coat and the soft canoe shoes he was wearing on shipboard, while Gerald followed suit. All the boys, as became trained Scouts, were good swimmers, but Rand pushed Gerald back, impetuously, saying:

“I’m the heavier, Gerald, let me go on this. It may be a fight,” and at the same time mounted the rail. As he did so, Colonel Snow seized a long thin line that hung for just such emergencies, on a spike at the rail, threw the knotted loop over Rand’s arm and shoulder, saying:

“These are cold waters, and you may need this. If it hampers you, cast it off, and take to the gangplank.”

Rand leaped from the rail, with his utmost strength, striving to escape the suction of the now backward-revolving screw, and struck out toward the man whose head was sinking under the surface, although his hands still grasped the gangplank with a feeble hold. With a dozen stalwart strokes, Rand reached the almost unconscious man, threw the loop from his own shoulder over his head and drew it under his arms and placed both his hands firmly upon the plank. Then grasping the bolt staple of the timber, himself, he yelled:

“Pull in; don’t back any further,” and in a few minutes willing and stalwart hands dragged them toward the steamer.

Already, a lifeboat had been dropped into the water and into this the half-drowned man was lifted, while Rand, himself already numbed by the icy water had to be assisted aboard. He was lifted to the deck amid the cheers of his chums, who rushed him to his stateroom for dry clothing.

“That was a great piece of work,” said Captain Huxley, commander of the “Queen.” “No professional life saver could have got on the job in quicker time. Those are fine boys of yours, Colonel Snow.”

“That’s part of their training as Scouts,” replied the Colonel, “and it’s meant to be practical. That’s why I did not interfere with Peyton’s attempt at a rescue. But what started this?”

“That’s what I’m going to find out, good and quick,” replied Captain Huxley. “As usual at this time of year, I’ve got a tough crowd in the steerage, and I imagine the whole thing started in a poker game that has been running on the engine room deck ever since we left Seattle. Will you go along?”

Accompanied by Colonel Snow and the boys who joined them at that moment, Rand none the worse for his first dip in Pacific waters, Captain Huxley strode down to the engine room, where first aid had been administered to the half-drowned man, who had come to his senses.

“Well, well; if it isn’t ‘Swiftwater Jim,’” exclaimed the Captain. “Didn’t know we had you aboard.”

“Wa’al, ye come mighty near losin’ me,” the patient answered, and then continued. “I come on board just as ye were castin’ off last night.”

“How d’ye come to get into the water? That hasn’t been a very popular element with you in the past; eh, Jim,” said the Captain with a grin. “Colonel Snow, let me introduce Swiftwater Jim, an ancient Alaskan that I believe we took over with the territory under the Seward treaty with Russia in 1867, and the oldest ‘Sourdough’ in any one of the six districts. He’s made at least a dozen trips with me. He usually owns the boat going ‘out,’ but is satisfied with the steerage going ‘in’.”

Colonel Snow grasped the miner’s hand, saying:

“Swiftwater Jim is no stranger to anyone who knows the history of the Alaskan country. Let me introduce some young fellows who are making their first trip.”

The miner, whose drying garb was made up of a mixture of the costume of the frontier pioneer and garments of the latest cut, shook hands with the boys as he said:

“I’ll pay ye captain, for puttin’ me back in the mammoth class, but what I’m lookin’ for is the feller that went into the dew after me. That certainly was a few damp moments. I was rattled, but I knew somebody grabbed me just before the light went out.”

“Here’s the chap,” said Captain Huxley, as he shoved the reluctant Rand to the front.

The miner grasped Rand’s hand and gazed into his face with a solemn stare.

“Wa’al, wa’al, such a young feller, too. How’d ye do it?” he inquired.

“It’s part of our training as Scouts,” replied Rand, modestly.

“Scouts, eh?” he cried. “Embreeo soldiers, eh? I heard of them this last trip out to the States. Wa’al, Mr. Peyton, I ain’t a goin’ to make no fervent speech of gratitood, for ye know how I feel, and I ain’t trimmed up to make a more substantial showin’ just now, but if you boys is a goin’ ‘in’ as we say, ye’ll hear from Swiftwater Jim before ye come out.”

“Tell us how it happened, Jim,” said Captain Huxley.

“Now, now, Captain, ye know me and ye know I can take care of me own troubles,” replied Jim.

“Look here, Jim,” said Captain Huxley, sternly. “You know I’m boss here, so long as you’re afloat, and anything of this kind demands investigation. Besides, I don’t propose to have a traveling feud on my manifest, all the way to Skagway. Out with it.”

“Wa’al, Captain,” said Swiftwater, “when I come aboard last night I found among the ruck in the steerage that gambler, Dublin, and a limpy pal of his. We got to playing poker, and the two of them cleaned me out, and because I found them using marked cards they came after me with them spikes. A young feller that was with them jumped on my back, and I went overboard. I’ll tend to ’em.”

“No, you won’t, Jim,” remarked Captain Huxley. “From this to Skagway you’ll bunk on my deck and keep away from here.”

Turning to a couple of the crew, the commander of the “Queen” said: “Bring that Dublin crowd here.” The men hurried away, and in a few minutes presented to the astonished eyes of the Scouts their old acquaintances and quasi-enemies, Dublin, Limpy Rae, and Monkey Rae. The latter favored the boys with a look of hatred and a muttered imprecation.

“We ain’t done nothin’”—began Dublin.

“That’ll do, Dublin,” replied Captain Huxley. “You know me of old, and I want to say I should have refused you passage if I had known you were going back to the Klondike. If you start another card game on this boat or get into any other trouble, I’ll put you in irons, and hand you over to the authorities when we reach port. I’m not sure that there are not several United States marshals in Alaska, yearning for a sight of you, now.”

Dublin turned white, attempted to speak, and then with his companions slunk back into the steerage.

“Why, we saw Monkey Rae trip up this man,” said Jack pointing to Swiftwater, “but we didn’t know it was Monkey then. It was a cowardly attack.”

“Well,” said Captain Huxley, “we’ll let the matter drop now, unless Swiftwater complains.”

“Not me,” said the miner, turning away. “I’ll see to this myself, later.”

“Not here, though,” said Captain Huxley, sternly.

“You can trust me, Captain,” replied Swiftwater, as he waved his hand to the boys and Colonel Snow, and walked away.

“And now,” said the Captain of the “Queen,” “I’m afraid we’ve missed the first bugle blast for breakfast, but I should be glad to have you, Colonel Snow and your young men join my table at meals for the voyage.”

This signal honor was highly appreciated by the boys, for at meals they were introduced to several territorial officials, capitalists and army officers, who, with the women of their families, were going in with the advent of Spring in Alaska. The tale of Rand’s feat had preceded them, and the poor fellow spent a rather uncomfortable and embarrassing half hour of compliments and congratulations from men whose experience had taught them to appreciate a gallant deed.

Colonel Snow finally came to Rand’s rescue by turning the talk to the rescued man.

“A great character, Swiftwater Jim, Captain Huxley?”

“Yes,” replied the commander of the “Queen,” “and Alaska history is full of his vagaries. He’s probably the best equipped prospector and all-round miner in the territory, but it does him no good. He has owned twenty mines, and has made a dozen fortunes and spent them all. Every time he makes a ‘stake’ as he calls it, he indulges in extravagances that make one doubt his sanity. He went out last fall with fifty thousand dollars in dust, and I dare say will be working for day wages when he gets back in.

“He visited New York on this trip, and caused something of a sensation even there while his money held out. His diversions are innocent, turning largely to investments in food and drink, a tendency born, I suppose, of long privations in the Arctic. His most humorous exploit on this trip was entering the most fashionable restaurant in the metropolis, and ordering fifty dollars worth of ham and eggs, after vainly attempting to make out the French of the bill of fare.”

Colonel Snow and the boys laughed, and the former said:

“I presume little of his money is really spent on himself.”

“No,” said the Captain. “He is the soul of generosity and scatters it right and left. Of course, a good deal of it goes to the leeches who cluster around such characters in the cities. Still, although he has the average pioneer’s contempt for Indians and Eskimos he has given liberally to the missions which are civilizing them. He may make another fortune, but I believe he will die poor.”

“D-d-did he eat all that order of ham and eggs?” asked Pepper with interest.

“Well, I hardly think so,” smiled the Captain. “I doubt if the order was really served. Head waiters of these big restaurants have very diplomatic ways.”

“Captain Huxley, what is a ‘Sourdough’? I heard you apply the word to Swiftwater Jim,” said Jack, on the alert for information.

“The aristocracy of the Alaskan mining camp,” replied the officer. “The man who has been at least a year in the territory, and is ‘wise’ as you boys say, to its methods and manners, and inured to its hardships and its climate. For a time you’ll belong to the ‘Chee-chak-O’ class.”

“What is that?” asked Rand.

“The Indian name for what the men on the Canadian ranches called ‘tenderfeet,’” replied Colonel Snow.

At this moment the vessel experienced a slight shock, and the dining saloon seemed to rise on a long and gentle undulation, and as gently to sink to an appreciable depth. The motion continued regularly for a few minutes, and Captain Huxley glanced keenly at the guests at his table, with a barely perceptible smile on his face.

A puzzled and rather serious expression came over the faces of several of those at breakfast. Suddenly, Dick exclaimed:

“We’re losing a good deal of this scenery,” and passed out on the deck, to be followed almost immediately by Pepper and Don. The Boy Scouts had met with a new sensation.