The Radio Boys Rescue the Lost Alaska Expedition Part 7

"Are we making a mistake in letting these fellows out of sight?" he asked. "Would it be better to set d.i.c.k and Art to watch them, and appoint a rendezvous where we can come together later?"

The two Alaskans were silent. Their faces, however, showed approval of the plan. Farnum struck his forehead with clenched fist in a characteristic gesture.

"Just what I would have proposed myself, if I had been awake," he confessed. "d.i.c.k, Art, do you think you could pick up their trail?"

The two nodded.

"They won't back track far," said d.i.c.k. "Art an' me can follow 'em afoot. That last portage is only four miles back, an' we can catch up with 'em there. Now about where to meet up with you again?"

"None of us know this country," said Farnum, "and so it will be difficulty to appoint a rendezvous. But, look here. Lupo undoubtedly intends to continue our pursuit, and won't let our trail go cold.

Consequently, you will be near us. I think the best plan will be to report to us at every camp. One of you can keep watch on Lupo while the other brings in a report."

"Good enough," said d.i.c.k, the more loquacious of the pair. "Look for us at tomorrow's camp."

Supplied with bacon and a little flour sufficient for a meal or two, guns at the trail, the pair struck swiftly on the back trail, disappeared among the trees at the bend and were gone from sight.

"All right, boys," said Farnum. "Let's get going. Can you manage your canoe all right by yourselves?"

Mr. Hampton laughed.

"I think they can sc.r.a.pe along, Farnum," he said. "Probably we'll be asking one of them to help us before long. Well, come on."

Paddles dipped into the stream once more, the canoes shot away, and, with Farnum leading to set the course, the boys fell in behind. In the leading canoe, as the two men settled down to the stroke a low-voiced conversation began that lasted a long time. What Mr. Hampton and Farnum were saying could not be heard, for the gap between the two canoes, though not great, was considerable. Moreover, they spoke in low tones.

But the boys sensed an undercurrent of anxiety felt by both the older men. As for themselves, however, they were not worried. On the contrary, the excitement of finding themselves trailed had brightened them wonderfully.

"Old expedition was getting too monotonous, anyway," said Bob presently.

"Oh, I suppose you'll want to challenge the best Indian wrestler now, won't you?" said Jack, in a tone of mock seriousness.

"Yes, Bob, why didn't you go back with d.i.c.k and Art and send in your challenge?" asked Frank, in the same jollying manner. "You know you haven't been in a match with anybody for some time. Here was your chance, and you went and let it slip away from you. But, don't worry, perhaps the Indians will return. Who knows? You may even have a chance to exchange courtesies with no less a personage than Lupo the Wolf himself."

The big fellow grinned, but made no reply. And so the two canoes swept on between the low banks of the stream, one weighted with anxiety, the other filled with light-heartedness. The boys were not simpletons. They realized, indeed, that they were in a precarious situation. They were deep in the far northern wilderness. An enemy of superior numbers dogged their heels. In all that vast country, was none to whom they could look for help. But, for all that, they saw no occasion to worry. It was not the first time in which they found themselves in a ticklish situation.

They had come unscathed out of other perils, even winning some honor in the encounter. They would do the same again. Thus they put the matter to themselves.

Hour after hour pa.s.sed, during which period they twice encountered slight rapids, up which they waded with the canoes instead of portaging.

All were tiring rapidly, for not only was their number reduced by the absence of d.i.c.k and Art, and the work made correspondingly heavy, but in addition they were traveling now on reserve strength, as prior to making the last camp they already had done a big day's work.

Farnum, however, pushed ahead until at the end of four hours of travel they came to the sh.o.r.e of a small lake. Here, in a secluded cove, convenient to the stream on which they had been traveling, they were about to make camp, when Frank approached Mr. Hampton and Farnum and indicated an island a half mile away.

"Isn't that smoke over there?" he asked, pointing.

Farnum stared, and in a moment his keen eyes confirmed Frank's observation. Mr. Hampton put up the field gla.s.ses which he always carried strapped to him, and also saw the smoke. But he saw something more-a skin kayak drawn up on the sh.o.r.e of the island.

"Hard to tell from that what sort of man is camping out there," said Farnum, when informed of the kayak. "Everybody uses 'em in this country-Indian, Eskimo, and the occasional prospector. That smoke doesn't indicate a big fire. Must be only one man, or maybe, two. Let's investigate. If we decide to make camp out there, well, that island would be a good place and it would be hard to surprise us there if we kept guard."

Once more, paddles were plied, and the two canoes cut diagonally across the waters of the lake towards the island. As they approached, Farnum raised his voice in a hail. A moment later an answering shout came back.

Then a figure stepped from the trees to the little stretch of sand upon which the kayak was drawn up and stood, watching their approach, hand shading eyes against the glare of the sun, head bare.

"Great G.o.dfrey's ghost," exclaimed Farnum in a low voice, turning his head slightly to address Mr. Hampton, "it's a policeman."

"What?"

"A member of the Northwest-of the Canadian Mounted Police."

"What's he doing here?"

"I don't know. But we'll soon find out."

"Welcome, strangers," said the other, a tall bronzed man, as they approached. "Just in time for a snack."

He advanced to the water's edge, and stood ready to help. Farnum's appraising eye took in the approach. Shoal water and a sandy beach! He decided to drive the canoe up on the sands. s.h.i.+pping his paddle, he leaped from the bow into the water, as the forefoot of the canoe grated lightly. Relieved of his weight, the canoe rose at the bow and sank at the stern under Mr. Hampton. Seizing the bow, Farnum ran it up on the beach, the uniformed man lending a hand. A moment later, Jack, who was in the bow of the boy's canoe, repeated the maneuver. The two craft were drawn up side by side.

"MacDonald's my name," said the Canadian simply.

"Know Arkell of Dawson?" asked Farnum.

"Know him well," said the other. "One o' the best on the Force."

"Friend of mine," said Farnum.

The two clasped hands warmly. Then Farnum introduced Mr. Hampton and the boys. MacDonald led the way to a sheltered spot among the trees, where a fire burned.

"Just about to broil some fish," he said. "Lucky there's plenty. I'm crazy about fis.h.i.+ng," he continued, "and when they bit here I pulled out mor'n I could use. Was wonderin' what to do with 'em when I heard your hail. Guess I don't need to worry about that any longer."

As he spoke he busied himself about preparations for dinner, and soon an appetizing odor of frying fish rose to a.s.sail the twitching nostrils of the hungry boys.

"Suppose I get another pan and help, sir," proffered Bob.

His comrades laughed, for the big fellow's appet.i.te was proverbial among them. MacDonald nodded with a grin of understanding. Bob tore back to the canoes, and soon returned with a pan in hand. In a short time the fish were fried, and all hands fell to right heartily.

"Long way off your beat, aren't you?" asked Farnum, of MacDonald, as they ate.

The other nodded. Then he regarded them sharply.

"Same to you," he said. "First white men I've seen in many days."

Mr. Hampton read a challenge in the straight blue eyes under the grizzled brows, and met it promptly.

"Yes, and I'll tell you why we are here," he said. "I think our meeting with you was providential. If you have been in this country long, you may have heard something that will help us. At any rate, here's our story."

Whereupon, he proceeded to relate the reason for their presence. He made a clean breast of it, keeping back nothing, telling MacDonald of the alleged oil discovery by Farrell and Cameron, Cameron's death, Farrell's return as guide to Thorwaldsson's expedition, and their presence now in an attempt to trace the missing men.

"So that's that," said MacDonald. "So that's the reason for Thorwaldsson's 'Lost Expedition.' And it was into this country he come!

Well, well."

In conclusion, Mr. Hampton told of their recent adventure with Lupo the Wolf. MacDonald manifested keen interest. His hand, as he poured tobacco into a pipe, shook slightly, and he spilled a little of the precious tobacco.

"You ain't heard of it likely," he said. "You wouldn't. But this Lupo killed my partner on the Force, an' I asked the Inspector to let me go after him myself. I followed him in from Dawson an' lost his trail several days ago. Now, well-"