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diff --git a/26372-h/26372-h.htm b/26372-h/26372-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7a2eda0 --- /dev/null +++ b/26372-h/26372-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6056 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> +<title> +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Panther Eye, by Roy J. Snell. +</title> + +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} + body {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;} + a {text-decoration: none;} + h3 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size: 1.2em} + .pncolor {color: silver;} + .figcenter {margin: 2em auto 2em auto; text-align: center;} + div.ce p {text-align: center; margin: auto 0;} + hr.mini {width: 2em; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;} + div.la p {text-align: left; margin: auto 0;} + .caption {font-size: 90%; text-align:center;} + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + hr.tb {width: 35%; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;} + .pagenum {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; position: absolute; right: 2%; padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration: none; background-color: inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + hr.major {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;} + hr.silver {width: 100%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver;} + h2 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size: 1.4em} +// --> +/* XML end ]]>*/ +</style> + +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Panther Eye, by Roy J. Snell + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Panther Eye + +Author: Roy J. Snell + +Release Date: August 20, 2008 [EBook #26372] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PANTHER EYE *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'><i>Mystery Stories for Boys</i></p> +</div> + +<hr class='mini' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.6em;'>Panther Eye</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/eye-fpc.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 362px; height: 559px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 362px;'> +“She’s tied. There’s terror in her eyes....”<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:1em;'><i>Mystery Stories for Boys</i></p> +<p style=' font-size:2em; margin-bottom:2em;'>Panther Eye</p> +<p><i>By</i></p> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-bottom:2em;'>ROY J. SNELL</p> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/eye-emb.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 73px; height: 41px;' /><br /> +</div> + +<div class='ce'> +<p>The Reilly & Lee Co.</p> +<p>Chicago</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce' style=' font-size:0.8em;'> +<p>Copyright 1921</p> +<p>By</p> +<p style=' margin-bottom:.5em;'>The Reilly & Lee Co.</p> +<p style=' margin-bottom:.5em;'><i>All Rights Reserved</i></p> +<p style=' margin-bottom:1.5em;'><i>Made in U. S. A.</i></p> +<p>Panther Eye</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em; margin-bottom:1em;'>CONTENTS</p> +</div> + +<table border='0' width='500' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Contents' style='margin:1em auto;'> +<tr> + <td align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'><span style='font-size:small;'>CHAPTER</span></td> + <td></td> + <td align='right'><span style='font-size:small;'>PAGE</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>I</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Mysterious Death</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#I_A_MYSTERIOUS_DEATH'>7</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>II</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>“Fifteen Men on the Dead Man’s Chest”</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#II__FIFTEEN_MEN_ON_THE_DEAD_MAN_S_CHEST'>18</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>III</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Fight in the Night</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#III_A_FIGHT_IN_THE_NIGHT'>32</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IV</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Chukche Treachery</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IV_CHUKCHE_TREACHERY'>43</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>V</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Big Cat</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#V_THE_BIG_CAT'>54</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VI</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>In the Grip of Terror</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VI_IN_THE_GRIP_OF_TERROR'>68</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Mystery of Mine No. 1</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VII_THE_MYSTERY_OF_MINE_NO_1'>79</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VIII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Three Men Disappear</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VIII_THREE_MEN_DISAPPEAR'>90</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IX</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Startling Perils</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IX_STARTLING_PERILS'>101</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>X</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Playing a Lone Hand</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#X_PLAYING_A_LONE_HAND'>117</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XI</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Dangling in Mid Air</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XI_DANGLING_IN_MID_AIR'>132</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Russian Dagger</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XII_THE_RUSSIAN_DAGGER'>144</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Cio-Cio-San</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIII_CIOCIOSAN'>156</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIV</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Nearing the City of Gold</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIV_NEARING_THE_CITY_OF_GOLD'>164</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XV</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Trapped</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XV_TRAPPED'>178</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVI</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The City Of Gold</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVI_THE_CITY_OF_GOLD'>186</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Kidnapped</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVII_KIDNAPPED'>198</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVIII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Under Machine-Gun Fire</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVIII_UNDER_MACHINEGUN_FIRE'>208</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIX</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Johnny Goes Into Action</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIX_JOHNNY_GOES_INTO_ACTION'>219</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XX</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Some Mysteries Uncovered</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XX_SOME_MYSTERIES_UNCOVERED'>229</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7' name='page_7'></a>7</span></div> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em; margin-top:2em;'>PANTHER EYE</p> +</div> + +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 0em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='I_A_MYSTERIOUS_DEATH' id='I_A_MYSTERIOUS_DEATH'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +<h3>A MYSTERIOUS DEATH</h3> +</div> + +<p>“He is dead!”</p> +<p>Johnny Thompson felt the grip of the speaker’s +hand on his arm and started involuntarily. +How could this strange fellow know that Frank +Langlois was dead—if he was dead? And was +he? They were surrounded by inky blackness. +It was the thick darkness of a subterranean cavern, +a mine. This was a gold mine. Three +minutes ago their electric torch had flickered +out and they had been unable to make it flash +again.</p> +<p>“C’mon,” said the other man, “Pant,” as the +laborers called him, “we don’t need that thing.”</p> +<p>To his utter astonishment, Johnny had felt +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8' name='page_8'></a>8</span> +himself urged forward by this Pant with the +easy, steady, forward march of one who is certain +of every step. Twice they had turned to +avoid mine-props. They had gone back into +the mine perhaps a hundred feet. Now, with +not a spark of light shining out of the gloom, +they had paused and his companion had uttered +those three words:</p> +<p>“He is dead.”</p> +<p>Was the man they had come to seek really +dead? If he was, who had killed him? How +did Pant know he was dead? Surely in that +Egyptian midnight no man could see.</p> +<p>As Johnny threw an involuntary glance to +the spot where Pant’s face should be, he gasped. +Had he caught a yellow glow from one eye of +the man? He could not be sure about it, for at +that instant the electric torch flashed on again +as suddenly as it had gone out.</p> +<p>Johnny’s eyes followed the yellow circle of +light. Then with a low exclamation he sprang +forward. There, not ten feet before them, lay +the form of Frank Langlois. To all appearances +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9' name='page_9'></a>9</span> +he was dead. Again through Johnny’s +mind there flashed the telegraphic questions:</p> +<p>“Who killed him? How did Pant know?”</p> +<p>Thrusting the torch into Johnny’s hand, his +companion leaped forward and, with a cat-like +motion, dropped down beside the prostrate form. +Tearing away at jacket and shirt, he bared the +breast and placed his ear close down upon the +cold flesh.</p> +<p>“Dead all right,” he sighed at last. “Wonder +what killed him?”</p> +<p>He still crouched there, as a cat crouches beside +its kill. As if he searched for the answer +to his last question, his eyes roved about the +floor.</p> +<p>This moment of silence gave Johnny time to +study Pant, to recall what he really knew about +him.</p> +<p>He was a strange chap, this Pant. He never +bunked with the other laborers of the outfit, but +had a private little pup-tent affair that he had +made of long-haired deer skin and canvas. In +this he slept. He was slight of build but wiry. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10' name='page_10'></a>10</span> +Possessed of a peculiar supple strength and agility, +he easily surpassed other men of greater +weight in everything he undertook, both of labor +and sport. One queer thing about him was +that he always wore a pair of glasses with +smoked lenses of such large proportions that +they hid his eyes completely; he was never without +them. One more thing, he always wore the +Eskimo cut of garments; in cold weather, deer +skin; in warm weather and at work, blue drill; +but always that middy-styled cloak with the hood +attached. And the hood was never off his head, +at least not in waking hours. He had dressed +that way even in Seattle, where Johnny had +signed him up to join his outfit on this perilously +uncertain search for gold in the Seven +Mines which were supposed to exist in Arctic +Siberia, at the mouth of the Anadir River across +from Alaska.</p> +<p>And yet, with all this strange dress, the man +was not an Eskimo. Johnny knew that from +the looks of him and from his talk. Indeed, in +a burst of frankness, the man had once told him +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span> +that when very young he had been picked up in +New York by some orphan asylum and sent west +to be raised by a rancher; that he had soon run +away from his foster home and had, since that +time, lived by his wits, sometimes in western +cities, sometimes in the wilds of the Rocky +Mountains. He had made three trips to foreign +countries and yet, as nearly as he himself +could calculate, he was not now more than nineteen, +a mere boy, but certainly a most mysterious +one.</p> +<p>Johnny’s mind took up the problems of the +new enterprise upon which he was entering. +How would this tragedy affect his work and, +most of all, the minds of his men?</p> +<p>Johnny, as you will remember from reading +“Triple Spies,” the first book of his thrilling +adventures, had been in this vast, silent, and +mysterious land of snow before. He had traveled +over three thousand miles of it and had +experienced many a strange adventure. Not +least of these was the rediscovery of the Seven +Mines of Siberia. These mines had first been +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span> +discovered by an American prospector who, having +crossed Bering Strait one summer with +natives in their skin boats, had explored the +Arctic Siberian rivers. He believed that there +was an abundance of the precious yellow metal +on the Kamchatkan Peninsula, just as there was +in its twin peninsula, Alaska. In this he had +not been disappointed. But when it came to +mining this gold, many problems arose. Chief +among these was the fact that the land belonged +to the Russian Czar, from whom a concession +must be secured.</p> +<p>He had, at last, sold his secret to the Big Five +of Chicago, five of the world’s richest men. +These men had secured the needed concession +and had shipped large quantities of mining machinery +and coal to the mouth of the river when +the Czar’s government suddenly went to smash. +Everything was dropped for the time being and +there matters stood when Johnny had come upon +the mines. Some of them were well opened up +for operation, but the machinery lay rusting in +the sheds. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span></p> +<p>When he had made his way back to Chicago, +about six months previous to the opening of our +story, he had had serious matters to attend to, +matters which were vital to the very foundations +of his Government. After these had been settled +and the Big Five, having learned that +Hanada, Johnny’s Japanese friend and school +mate, who had made the entire Siberian journey +with him and had previously worked in the +Seven Mines, had been killed by a mysterious +shot, fired from the depths of Chicago River, +they turned to Johnny, as the one who could +best aid them in solving the knotty problem of +working the Seven Mines.</p> +<p>Johnny, with his long experience as a soldier +in eastern Russia, was able to tell them frankly +that there would be practically no chance of obtaining +a concession of any value from the uncertain +government that existed in that region.</p> +<p>They had called in their lawyers, who advised +that they proceed to work the mines on +the old concession, given them by the Czar. +“The concession,” they explained, “does not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span> +expire until January, 1925. That being the case, +it still holds good, even though the government +has changed hands, just as a lease to bore for oil +on a certain farm would hold good even though +the farm changed hands.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” the rich representatives of the Big +Five had smiled, “but there is a royalty of 25 +per cent which was to have been paid to the +Czar. Now it should go to the people. But +how? To whom should this now be paid?”</p> +<p>At this juncture, Johnny had one of his occasional +inspirations.</p> +<p>“Leave that to me,” he had exclaimed. +“Make me foreman of the enterprise and every +ounce and penny’s worth of that royalty will go +to relieve the sufferings of those freezing, starving, +and naked refugees I saw pouring into +Vladivostok from the interior by tens of thousands. +You appoint one person and send that +person over to assist the Red Cross in distributing +the benefits and I will get the gold down +to them, never fear.”</p> +<p>“Good!” one of the rich men had exclaimed. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span></p> +<p>“And, just to show you we’re with you, we’ll +make it 35 per cent.”</p> +<p>Now, Johnny remembered all of that. He +remembered too how he had picked his miners, +and his crew for the big gasoline schooner which +was to bring them to the scene of their labors, +and his two air men who were to man their +emergency transportation—an airplane. He +remembered with what high hopes he had landed +on those bleak shores and had taken up the task +of making his men comfortable for the long winter. +Only yesterday the housing work had been +completed, and to-day, while the other laborers +were going over the rusted machinery, he had +sent his best man, Langlois, into the most promising +looking mine to discover the conditions +there. The man had not returned. After four +hours of waiting, he had called to Pant, and +together they had entered the mine. They had +found that death had already broken through +their guard.</p> +<p>“Let him lie as he is,” Johnny said to his +companion. “We will bring in the doctor and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span> +two other men. This is a land without law. +There will be no coroner’s inquest. That is all +the more reason why we must be careful to avoid +all appearance of foul play. When men are ‘on +their own’ everything must be done in the open.”</p> +<p>Before turning toward the mouth of the mine, +he cast one sweeping glance about the place. +Beyond the body there was a pool of water. It +was evident that a warm spring must enter the +place near this shallow pool, for the walls on all +sides were white with frost. In the middle of +this pool, driven into the earth was a pick. It +was rusty and its handle was slimy with dampness. +Close to the end of the handle were the +marks of a man’s fingers where his firm grip had +ground off particles of the black rot. It seemed +evident that the pick had lain on the floor of the +mine, that Langlois had taken it up and driven +it into the earth which had been softened by the +water. Then death must have come, for he lay +not three feet from the handle of the pick.</p> +<p>“Dead,” Johnny whispered to himself as he +turned away, “but how?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span></p> +<p>Half way to the entrance, Johnny paused, put +his hand on his companion’s arm, then stood in +the attitude of listening. He seemed to feel +rather than hear an almost undetectable shudder +that set the air about them and the rock beneath +their feet to vibrating.</p> +<p>“What is it?” whispered Johnny.</p> +<p>“I don’t know,” said his companion, and there +was a noticeable tremor in his voice.</p> +<p>They were destined to feel that earth-tremble +many times before they solved the mystery of +the mine.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='II__FIFTEEN_MEN_ON_THE_DEAD_MAN_S_CHEST' id='II__FIFTEEN_MEN_ON_THE_DEAD_MAN_S_CHEST'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +<h3>“FIFTEEN MEN ON THE DEAD MAN’S CHEST”</h3> +</div> + +<p>The two men who, with the young doctor, +accompanied Johnny and Pant back to the mine +were old friends of other days, David Tower +and Jarvis, one-time skipper and engineer of the +submarine in that remarkable race beneath the +ice and through the air told about in our second +book, “Lost in the Air.” Like all worthy seamen, +they had found that money “burned holes +in their pockets,” and before six months had +passed their share of the prize money had +dwindled to such a meager sum that the fitting +out of a private expedition to go north in search +of the fabled City of Gold, the gleam of whose +domes they had glimpsed, was not to be thought +of. When, therefore, they had discovered that +men were being signed for a trip to Arctic +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span> +Russia with the well-known feather-weight +champion boxer, Johnny Thompson, at its head, +they hastened to put their names on the “dotted +line.” And here they were, two of Johnny’s +most valued men.</p> +<p>Both worked hard at the labor entrusted to +them. But ever and again, as he straightened +up to ease his cramped back, Jarvis would +whisper to Dave:</p> +<p>“It’s all right this ’ere Seven Mines, but, man, +think how rich we’ll be when we git to that City +of Gold. I ’ates to think how rich we’ll be. +We’ll buy reindeer or dogs from the bloody, +bloomin’ ’eathen and we’ll trim our sails for the +nor’west when this hexpedition’s blowed up and +gone.”</p> +<p>Dave had always smiled and hoped.</p> +<p>But now, there lay before them a sad task. +One of their comrades, a fine young college +fellow with all of life before him, had been +“bumped off.” It was their duty to determine, +if possible, who was responsible for this tragedy, +and, if occasion seemed to warrant, to avenge it. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span></p> +<p>With bowed heads, they stood beside the quiet +form while the young doctor went about his +examination.</p> +<p>For fully ten minutes the mine was silent as +a grave. Only the faint drip, drip, drip of water +from the warm spring and the almost inaudible +tremble-mumble of the throbbing earth disturbed +the deathlike stillness.</p> +<p>At last the doctor straightened up with a sigh.</p> +<p>“Not a scratch on his body,” he announced, +“not a sign of anything.”</p> +<p>“Heart disease?” suggested Johnny.</p> +<p>“Impossible. I was particularly careful to see +that every man of the expedition had a good +strong heart. Low temperatures are hard on +bad hearts. Langlois was exceptionally well +equipped in this matter. Indeed, he told me that +he had climbed Mount Evans in Colorado last +summer, fourteen thousand and two hundred +feet, without a murmur from his heart. Couldn’t +be that.”</p> +<p>“Poison?” suggested Johnny.</p> +<p>“Not a sign of that either. Of course, to be +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span> +sure of that, one must make a post-mortem +examination. Let’s get him out of this damp, +black hole.”</p> +<p>They were soon moving out of the dark and +forbidding interior of the mine toward the welcome +sunlight that flooded the entrance.</p> +<p>As they approached this entrance, the unreliable +flashlight flickered out for a second, and, +in that second, Johnny experienced a distinct +shock. Again, it seemed to him that he caught +the gleam of a round, yellow ball of light, such +as one sees when looking toward a cat in the +dark. When the light flashed on, Pant had +moved, but Johnny concluded that he might +easily have been standing where the ball of light +had shown.</p> +<p>As he prepared to leave the mine, Johnny +paused for a moment, trying to sense once more +that strange earth shudder. It seemed to him +that it was less distinct here than it had been +further back in the mine. But of this he could +not be sure. It might easily be that the slight +sounds and the sensations of light and air here +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span> +dulled his sensibilities, making it harder for him +to catch the shudder.</p> +<p>The post-mortem revealed no signs of poison. +They buried Langlois the next day in the grave +that had been picked and blasted out of the +solidly frozen earth of the hillside looking over +the ice-blocked sea.</p> +<p>It was a solemn but picturesque scene that +struck Johnny’s eye as he neared the grave. +Before him stood his comrades with bowed and +uncovered heads. In the distance stretched the +unmeasured expanse of the ice-whitened sea. +Beyond, on the other side, lay the equally +unmeasured expanse of snow-whitened land. +Far in the distance stretched the endless chain +of mountains, which to-day seemed to smoke +with the snow blown a quarter mile above their +summits. In the foreground, not a hundred +yards away, was a group of perhaps fifty people. +These were Chukches, natives, very like the +Eskimos of Alaska. They had come to witness +from afar the strange scene of the “alongmeet’s” +(white man’s) burial. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span></p> +<p>The scene filled Johnny with a strange sense +of awe. Yet, as he came nearer to the grave, he +frowned. He had thought that all his men stood +with uncovered heads. One did not. The man +who had been the first to discover the dead man, +Pant, stood with his fur hood tied tightly over +his ears.</p> +<p>Johnny was about to rebuke him, but the word +died on his lips. “Pshaw!” he whispered to +himself, “there’s trouble enough without starting +a quarrel beside an open grave.”</p> +<p>Jarvis, who was the oldest man of the group +and had been brought up in the Church of +England, read a Psalm and a prayer, then with +husky voice repeated:</p> +<p>“Ashes to ashes and dust to dust.”</p> +<p>The hollow thump of frozen earth on the +rude box coffin told that the ceremony was over.</p> +<p>One by one the men moved away, leaving only +two behind to fill the grave.</p> +<p>Johnny strode off up the hill alone. He felt +a great need to think. There was to be no more +work that day. He would not be missed. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span></p> +<p>As he made his way slowly up the hill, his +dark form stood out against the white background. +Short, but square-shouldered and muscular, +he fairly radiated his years of clean, vigorous +living.</p> +<p>And Johnny Thompson was all that one might +imagine him to be. A quiet, unobtrusive fellow, +he seldom spoke except when he had something +worth saying. Since childhood he had always +been a leader among his fellows. Johnny was a +good example to others, but no prude. He had +played a fast quarter on the football team, and +had won for himself early renown and many +medals as a light weight, champion boxer. He +never sought a quarrel, but, if occasion +demanded it, Johnny went into action with a +vim and rush that few men of twice his weight +could withstand.</p> +<p>Now, however, his thoughts were far from +pugilistic. He was thinking of the immediate +past and the future. Every man in his crew +was aware of the fact that 35 per cent of +the output of these mines went to the homeless +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span> +starving ones of the most hopelessly +wrecked nation on the face of the earth. And +though for the most part they were rough men, +they had all worked with the cheerful persistence +which only an unselfish motive can inspire. +Langlois had not been the least among these. +Now he was gone. Who would be next?</p> +<p>Every man in the crew knew the dangers they +were facing. To the south were the anti-Bolshevik +Russians, who, not understanding +Johnny’s claims and his motives, might, at any +time, launch an expedition against them. To +the southwest were the radical Bolsheviki, who, +obtaining knowledge of these rich deposits of +gold, might start a land force across country to +secure this much needed medium of exchange. +Then there were the Chukches. Wild, superstitious +tribes of spirit-worshipping people, they +might come down from the north in thousands +to wipe out this first white settlement established +on their shores.</p> +<p>Johnny’s men had known of all these perils +and yet they had freely and gladly joined the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span> +expedition. His heart swelled with joy and +pride at thought of the trust they had put in +him.</p> +<p>Yet here was a new and unknown peril. The +death of Langlois could not be fairly laid at the +door of either Chukches or Russians. Could +it be charged to some treacherous member of +their own group? Johnny hated to think so, +yet, how had it happened? Then, too, there +was that strange earth-tremble; what caused +that?</p> +<p>Already his men were growing superstitious +in this silent, frozen land. He had heard them +saying openly that they would not work in the +mine where Langlois died. Ah, well, there were +six other mines, some of them probably as rich. +They could be worked. But was this peril to +follow them into these? Was his whole expedition +to be thwarted in the carrying out of its +high purposes? Were the needy in great barren +Russia to continue to freeze and starve? He +hoped not.</p> +<p>As he rose to go, he saw a small dark object +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span> +scurry over the snow. At first he thought it a +raven. But at last, with a little circle, it +appeared to flop over and to lie still, a dark +spot on the snow.</p> +<p>Johnny approached it cautiously. As he came +close, his lips parted in an exclamation:</p> +<p>“A phonographic record!”</p> +<p>He looked quickly up the hill, then to the +right and left. Not a person was in sight.</p> +<p>“Apparently from the sky,” he murmured.</p> +<p>But at that instant he caught himself. They +had a phonograph in their outfit. This was +doubtless one of their records. But how did +it come out here?</p> +<p>As he picked it up and examined it closely, +he knew at once that it was not one of their +own, for it was a different size and had neither +number nor label on it.</p> +<p>“Ho, well,” he sighed, “probably thrown +away by some native. Take it down and try +it out anyway. Might be a good one.”</p> +<p>At that, he began making his way down the +hill. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span></p> +<p>He was nearly late to mess. Already the men +were assembled around the long table and were +helping themselves to “goldfish” and hot +biscuits.</p> +<p>“Boys,” Johnny smiled, “I’ve been downtown +and brought home a new record for the +phonograph. We’ll hear it in the clubroom +after mess.”</p> +<p>“What’s the name of it?” inquired Dave +Tower, all interest at once, as, indeed, they all +were.</p> +<p>“Don’t know,” said Johnny, “but I bet it’s +a good one.”</p> +<p>Mess over, they adjourned to the “clubroom,” +a large room, roughly but comfortably furnished +with homemade easy chairs, benches and +tables, and supplied with all the reading matter +in camp.</p> +<p>Many pairs of curious eyes turned to the +phonograph in the corner as Johnny, after +winding the machine, carefully placed the disk +in position, adjusted the needle, and with a +loud “A-hem!” started the machine in motion. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span></p> +<p>There followed the usual rattle and thump as +the needle cleared its way to the record.</p> +<p>Every man sat bolt upright, ears and eyes +strained, when from the woody throat came the +notes of a clear voice:</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>“Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Yo—ho—ho, and a bottle of rum.</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Fifteen men and the dark and damp,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>My men ’tis better to shun.”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Again the machine appeared to clear its +throat.</p> +<p>A smile played over the faces of the men. +But again the voice sang:</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>“Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Yo—ho—ho, and a bottle of rum.</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Fifteen men and the dark and damp,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>My men ’tis better to shun.”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Again came a rattle. A puzzled expression +passed over Johnny’s face. The same song was +repeated over and over till the record was +finished.</p> +<p>A hoarse laugh came from one corner. It +died half finished. No one joined in the laugh. +There was something uncanny about this record +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span> +which had drifted in from nowhere with its +song of pirate days and of death. Especially +did it appear so, coming at such a time as this.</p> +<p>“Well, what do you make of it?” Johnny +smiled queerly.</p> +<p>“It’s a spirit message!” exclaimed Jarvis, +“I read as ’ow Sir Oliver Lodge ’as got messages +from ’is departed ones through the medium +of a slate. ’Oo’s to say spirits can’t talk on +them wax records as well. It’s a message, a +warnin’ to us in this ’ere day of death.”</p> +<p>Smiles followed but no laughing. In a land +such as this, every man’s opinion is respected.</p> +<p>“More likely some whaler made a few private +records of his own singing and gave this +one to the natives,” suggested Dave Tower. +“They’d take it for something to eat, but, when +they tried boiling it and had no success, they’d +throw it away. That’s probably what’s happened +and here we have the record.”</p> +<p>“Anyway,” said the doctor, “if he’s a sailor, +you’ll have to admit he had a very fine voice.”</p> +<p>There the matter was dropped. But Johnny +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span> +took it up again before he slept. He could not +help feeling that this was sent as a warning not +from the spirit world, but from some living +person. Who that person might be, he had no +sort of notion. And the message gave no clue. +He repeated it slowly to himself.</p> +<p>“What could you make out of that?” he +mumbled.</p> +<p>Then he turned over in his deer-skin bag and +went to sleep.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='III_A_FIGHT_IN_THE_NIGHT' id='III_A_FIGHT_IN_THE_NIGHT'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +<h3>A FIGHT IN THE NIGHT</h3> +</div> + +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>“Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>Yo—ho—ho, and a bottle of rum.</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Fifteen men and the dark and damp,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>My men ’tis better to shun.”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>For the fiftieth time Johnny heard those +words ground out by the record that had rolled +down the hill to meet him. Fifty times he had +searched in vain for its meaning. For that it +was not chance that had sent it rolling to his +feet, but purpose, the mysterious purpose of an +unknown some one, he was certain.</p> +<p>If the man had something to say to him, why +did he not say it? Why veil his meaning in an +apparently senseless song? It was getting on +his nerves.</p> +<p>He sprang to his feet and began pacing the +floor. For the first time since the record came +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span> +into his hands, he had an idea. Somewhere, +he had read part of that song, perhaps all. But +where? He could not think.</p> +<p>He came to a stand beside Dave Tower, who +was reading.</p> +<p>“Dave,” he exclaimed, “part of that song, +or all of it, is printed in a book. What book is +it?”</p> +<p>“Your memory’s poor,” grinned Dave, +“‘Treasure Island,’ of course—only the first +two lines, though. It’s the song the old one-legged +pirate used to sing.”</p> +<p>“Sure,” smiled Johnny.</p> +<p>Turning, he left the room.</p> +<p>In a moment he had his parka down over his +head and was out in the open air. He wanted to +think.</p> +<p>The yellow light of the moon was cut here and +there by dark purple shadows of the night. Not +a breath stirred. He walked slowly up the hill, +watching the golden streamers of the northern +lights streaking across the sky. It was a perfect +night. And yet, it was to be marred all too soon. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span></p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>“Fifteen men and the dark and damp,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>My men ’tis better to shun.”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Johnny repeated the last two lines of the song. +So these were the words the mysterious singer +had improvised to sing with those which were +well known by every live American boy. What +could he mean? Why had he sung them?</p> +<p>Suddenly it all seemed clear to him; the man +was being watched and dared not do a thing +openly. He wished to send them a warning. +This was his only way. And the warning was +doubtless to tell them to stay away from the +death trap where Frank Langlois had perished.</p> +<p>“Well,” Johnny exclaimed, as if addressing +the person who had sent the message, “if that’s +all there is to it, we’ve already complied with +your wish.”</p> +<p>He turned and looked back down the hill. A +few hundred yards away a hole yawned in the +hard crusted snow. Twenty yards from this +was a cone of black earth twice the height of a +man. This was their pile of pay dirt. For five +days now, they had been working on the second +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span> +mine of the seven. The pay dirt they had +struck was not as rich as they hoped to find, +but it would repay the labor of sluicing. It was +growing richer each hour. They hoped in time +to uncover the mother-lode. This would pay for +panning and yield a rich reward.</p> +<p>It was placer mining. Beside the mine entrance +stood a steam thawer, a coal-heated +boiler such as is used for driving a sawmill or +grist-mill engine. From this a wire-wound hose +extended into the interior of the mine. The +mine was fifteen feet underground, but even +here the earth was frozen solid. Attached to +the hose was a sharp pointed iron pipe. This +pipe was perforated in hundreds of places. +When it was driven into the earth and the steam +turned on, it thawed the flinty soil and rendered +it pliable to the pick and shovel.</p> +<p>“Yes,” Johnny heaved a sigh of satisfaction, +“yes, sometime, perhaps in two or three months, +we will send by reliable reindeer carriers our +first gift of gold to the orphans of Russia.”</p> +<p>He made his way up the hill to the point +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span> +where he had found the phonographic record, +for he was curious to know the lay of the land +above that point. He wanted to know where +this strange person had been hiding when he +set the disk rolling.</p> +<p>“It’s strange, mighty strange,” he whispered, +as he looked up at the cliffs which towered skyward +some three hundred yards above the spot +where he stood.</p> +<p>Then suddenly he stopped short. Had he seen +a dark shadow flit from one little ridge to another? +The surface of the hill was very uneven. +He could not tell.</p> +<p>At first he was inclined to turn back. But +he had started for the rocky cliff and he was not +given to turning back. He went on.</p> +<p>As he moved forward, his thoughts were +again of that strange fellow who had made the +record on the disk.</p> +<p>“Couldn’t be a native” he murmured. “No +native has a voice like that. If it’s a strange +white man, why doesn’t he join us? Perhaps—” +He stopped short in his tracks. “Perhaps it’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span> +one of our own number. Perhaps it’s Pant. +He’s queer enough to do or be anything.”</p> +<p>His mind hung on that last word—anything. +Yes, he might not be a man at all. Might be a +girl. Why always that hood drawn tight? +Why the goggles? And, being a girl, she might +be more than an adventuress. Possibly she was +a radical, a Russian spy, who had joined his +crew to thwart his purposes. Who could tell?</p> +<p>“Humph!” he shook himself free from these +reflections. “Lot of chance of all that being true. +There’s witchery in this moonlight. And yet, +stranger things have happened. Whatever you +say, Pant’s a devil. Who else could see in the +dark?”</p> +<p>He was standing almost directly beneath the +rocky cliff. Suddenly with the quickness of +thought, a small brown figure sprang at him. +Then another and another.</p> +<p>Right at his face sprang the first one. Not +one nor two of these could be too quick for +Johnny. Like a shot his right arm curved out. +With a screaming shudder the man leaped in air +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span> +and went crashing down the hill. The second, +seized by his fragile squirrel-skin parka, tore +himself away. The third landed upon Johnny’s +back. Like an infuriated bucking bronco, +Johnny went over on his back, crushing the +wind out of the fellow on the hard packed +snow. But the second man, dressed now in a +garment of crimson hue, which he had worn +under his parka, was upon Johnny’s chest. +His arm was entwined in Johnny’s left in a +jujutsu hold. His hand flashed to the white +boy’s chin. With such a hold even a small +man could do much. The man pinioned beneath, +having regained his breath, added his strength +to the other in holding his adversary flat to +the snow. Johnny dug his left elbow into this +one’s face, while his right arm turned beneath +the arm of the man on his chest and reached +a position of half-nelson behind the man’s head. +He was now in a position to break this assailant’s +neck. Bones snapped as he applied the +terrific muscles of his right arm and the brown +man’s muscles relaxed. Johnny’s head and arms +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span> +were free. With the speed of a wild-cat, he +sprang to his feet, faced about, then, with a +bounding leap, cleared the remaining assailant +and went tobogganing down the hill. He had +seen five others of the brown villains approaching. +He had had enough for this night—more +than enough.</p> +<p>The snow was hard packed; the descent for +many yards was steep, and Johnny gained a +momentum in his downward plunge that threatened +disaster. Now he careened over a low +ridge to shoot downward over a succession of +rolling terraces. Now he slid along the trough +of a bank of snow. One thought was comforting; +he was escaping from those strange +brown men. Shots had rung out. Bullets +whizzed past him, one fairly burning his cheek. +It was with a distinct sense of relief that he +at last bumped over a sheer drop of six feet to +a gentler incline where he was quite out of their +sight.</p> +<p>By digging in his heels, he brought himself +to a stop. Hardly had he done this than he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span> +sprang up and raced back up the hill to the last +rocky ridge over which he had glided. From +the top of this he might be able to see the men +without himself being seen.</p> +<p>As he thrust his toe into a crack and braced +his elbows, he peered up the snowy slope to the +cliffs above. All was bathed in a glorious moonlight, +but not a creature stirred. He watched +for fully five minutes with no result. When +about to drop to the snow again, he thought +he detected a movement to the left of where +he had been looking. Fixing his eyes on that +point, he watched. Yes, there it was; something +was passing out from behind a rock. A gasp +escaped his lips.</p> +<p>What appeared to be a gigantic golden coated +cat had moved stealthily out upon the snow, and +was gliding toward the upper cliffs.</p> +<p>“Whew!” Johnny wiped the cold perspiration +from his brow. Still he stared.</p> +<p>The creature moved in a leisurely manner up +the hill until it disappeared around the cliffs.</p> +<p>Johnny looked to the right and down the hill. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span> +The light of the clubroom was still burning. +He beat a hasty retreat.</p> +<p>It was a surprised and startled group that +looked him over as he appeared at the door, +ragged, bruised and bloody. Eagerly they +crowded about to hear his story.</p> +<p>When he had washed the blood from his face +and drawn on clean shirt and trousers, he took +a place by the open fire and told them—told +them as only Johnny could.</p> +<p>“Well, what do you make of it?” He threw +back his head and laughed a frank, boyish laugh, +as he finished. “Some wild and woolly adventure, +eh? Who were those little men? And +what does it all mean?”</p> +<p>“Means the natives are getting superstitious +about our effect on the spirits of their dead +whales and are planning to treat us rough,” +suggested Dave.</p> +<p>“Natives!” exploded Jarvis, “Them ain’t +any natural ’eathen. Them’s ’eathen frum +further down the sea. I ’ates to think what a +’ard lot they is. Dave and me’s seen a ’eap +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span> +further north than this. ’E’s got spies everywhere, +this ’eathen ’as.”</p> +<p>“Struck me a little that way too,” smiled +Johnny. “That fellow I tore the clothes off +was wearing silk undergarments. Show me the +Chukche who wears any at all, let alone silk.”</p> +<p>“Sure!” exclaimed Jarvis.</p> +<p>“But if they’re around here, why don’t we +see them?” objected one of the miners.</p> +<p>“The big cat’s ’ere. Johnny saw ’im,” scoffed +Jarvis. “You ’aven’t seen ’im, ’ave you? All +that’s about ain’t seen. Not by a ’ouse full.”</p> +<p>“What about the big cat?” exclaimed Johnny. +“I thought I was seeing things.”</p> +<p>“E’s a Roosian tiger,” stated Jarvis. “I’ve +seen the likes of ’im fur north of here.”</p> +<p>“To-morrow,” said Johnny, “we’ll take a day +off for hunting. Big, yellow cats and little yellow +men are not good neighbors unless they’ve +agreed in advance to behave. Move we turn in. +All in favor, go to bed.”</p> +<p>A moment later the clubroom was deserted.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IV_CHUKCHE_TREACHERY' id='IV_CHUKCHE_TREACHERY'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<h3>CHUKCHE TREACHERY</h3> +</div> + +<p>The proposed hunt for “big yellow cats and +little yellow men” did not come off, at least +not at the time appointed. Morning found the +tundra, the hills, everything, blotted out by a +blinding, whirling blizzard. It was such a storm +as one experiences only in the Arctic. The snow, +fine and hard as granulated sugar, was piled +high against the cabin. The door was blocked. +Exit could be had only through a window.</p> +<p>Dave Tower, in attempting to make his way +to the storeroom to secure a fresh supply of +canned milk and evaporated eggs, found himself +hopelessly lost in the blinding snow clouds. +Possessed of singular presence of mind, he +settled himself in the lee of a snow bank and +waited. In time, a pencil of yellow light came +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span> +jabbing its way through the leaden darkness. +His companions had formed themselves in a +circle and, with flash lights blinking here and +there, sought and found him. After that, they +remained within doors until the storm had spent +its fury.</p> +<p>It was a strange world they looked upon when, +after three days, they ventured out once more. +The snow was piled in ridges. Ten, fifteen, +twenty feet high, these ridges extended down the +hillsides and along the tundra. Through one +of these, they tunneled to Mine No. 2, making an +enclosed path to the mine from the cabin.</p> +<p>“From now on, let her blow,” laughed Johnny +when the tunnel was finished; “our work will +go on just the same.”</p> +<p>When the men were all back at work, Johnny +thought once more of the big yellow cat and the +little yellow men. The storm had wiped out +every trace of his struggle with the men and +every track of the cat. But the native village? +Might he not discover some trace of his assailants +there? He resolved to visit the village. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span> +Since his men were all employed, he would go +alone.</p> +<p>An exclamation of surprise escaped his lips +as he rounded the point from which the rows of +dome-like igloos could be seen. Where there +had been nineteen or twenty homes, there were +now sixty or seventy. What could this mean? +Could it be that the men who had attacked him +but a few days before were among these new +arrivals? At first, he was tempted to turn +back. But then there came the reflection that +Nepossok, the old chief who made this his permanent +home, was friendly to him. There +would be little chance of treachery in the broad +light of day.</p> +<p>He hurried on and walked down the snow-packed +streets of a northern nomad village.</p> +<p>Reaching the old chief’s tent, he threw back +the flaps and entered. He was soon seated on +the sleeping platform of the large igloo, with the +chief sitting solemnly before him and his half +naked children romping in one corner.</p> +<p>“Many Chukche,” said Johnny. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span></p> +<p>“Il-a-hoite-Chukche. Too many! Too +many,” grumbled the old man.</p> +<p>Johnny waited for him to go on.</p> +<p>Twisting the string of his muckluck (skin +boot), the old man continued: “What you +think? Want’a dance and sing all a times these +Chukche. No want’a hunt. No want’a fish. +Quick come no cow-cow (no food). Quick +starve. What you think?”</p> +<p>“Perhaps they think they can live off the +white man,” suggested Johnny.</p> +<p>The old man shot him a sharp glance.</p> +<p>“Eh—eh,” he grunted.</p> +<p>“But they can’t,” said Johnny firmly. +“You tell ’em no can do. White man, plenty +grub now. Many white men. Many months all +a time work, no come open water. No come +grub. Long time, no grub. See! You speak +Chukche, this.”</p> +<p>“Eh—eh,” the old man grunted again. Then +as a worried expression came over his face, +“What you think? Twenty igloo mine. That +one chief mine. Many igloos not mine. No +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span> +can say mine. T’other chief say do. Then +do. Not do, say mine. See? What you think?”</p> +<p>From the old chief’s rather long speech, +Johnny gathered that Nepossok was chief over +only twenty of the families of the village; that +the others were under another chief; that he +could tell them to hunt and fish, to be prepared +for a food scarcity later, but that they would +do as they pleased about it.</p> +<p>Johnny left the igloo with a worried expression +on his face. If these natives had moved +to this village close beside them with the notion +that they would be able to trade for or beg the +food which he had stored in his warehouse, they +were doomed to disappointment. And having +been disappointed, doubtless they would become +dangerous.</p> +<p>This last conclusion was verified as he went +the rounds of the village peering into every +igloo. There were rifles in each one of them, +good ones too—high power hunting rifles for +big game—lever action, automatic. In every +igloo he found men stretched out asleep, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span> +this on a splendid day for hunting. They were +but waiting for the night, which they would +spend in wild singing, tom-tom drumming and +naked dances.</p> +<p>Johnny did not find the people he had come to +seek. In none of the igloos did he see a single +person resembling, in the least degree, the little +yellow men who had attacked him on the hill.</p> +<p>All this but confirmed his own opinion and +that of Jarvis, that somewhere in these hills +there was hiding away a company of Orientals, +spies of their government, perhaps. But where +could they be?</p> +<p>Johnny was not surprised, two days later, +when, on coming out of his storeroom, he found +a dark-faced and ugly Chukche looking in.</p> +<p>“Plenty cow-cow,” the man grimaced.</p> +<p>“Ti-ma-na” (enough), said Johnny.</p> +<p>“Wanchee sack flour mine.”</p> +<p>“No,” said Johnny, closing and locking the +door.</p> +<p>The man departed with a sour look on his +face. He returned within an hour. With him +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span> +was a boy. Between them they carried the most +perfectly preserved mastodon tusk Johnny had +ever seen.</p> +<p>“Flour?” the man said, pointing to the tusk.</p> +<p>Johnny could not resist the temptation to +barter for the tusk. He yielded. The man +carried his flour away in triumph.</p> +<p>After that, not a day passed but a half score +or more of the natives came sneaking about the +cabin, the storeroom, and the mine, begging for +food.</p> +<p>As the days wore on, as famine came poking +his skeleton form into the igloos of the improvident +natives, the condition became truly serious.</p> +<p>Johnny dispatched a messenger inland to discover +if it would be possible to obtain deer meat +from the Reindeer Chukches living there. When +he found that a few deer might be obtained, he +began trading sparingly with the coast natives. +They had little to trade, and the little he could +spare would only postpone the disaster that +seemed hanging over the camp like a cloud. +The natives would not hunt or fish and each +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span> +day found them growing more insolent and +threatening.</p> +<p>This to the eager young miner was a great +trial. Mining operations were going on splendidly. +Mine No. 2 yielded a richer pay dirt each +day. Indications were that in a very few days +they would be mining the mother-lode from that +digging and would be storing away pure gold in +moose hide sacks, some to be sent to the men +whose wealth had made the expedition possible +and some to the orphans of Vladivostok.</p> +<p>It was at this time that the native with the +dark and frowning visage came with the announcement +that he had located some immense +tusks of extinct monsters, a short distance inland. +He begged Johnny to go with him to look +at them and assured him that if they pleased +him, they should be brought to the coast for +barter.</p> +<p>“All right, come sun to-morrow, I go,” said +Johnny.</p> +<p>“I better go along,” said Pant, when the +native had left. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span></p> +<p>“Go if you want to,” said Johnny.</p> +<p>Next morning, just at dawn, the three men +started on their quest for the ancient ivory.</p> +<p>The way led first up the frozen river bed, +then over low-lying hills to a stretch of tundra. +At the distant border of the tundra towered +high cliffs, flanked by snow-blown mountains. +Toward these they journeyed, tramping along +in silence.</p> +<p>As they neared the cliffs, Johnny fancied that +he saw some dark creatures moving among the +rocks. The distance was too great for him to +know whether they were human beings or +animals.</p> +<p>It was with a creeping sense of danger and a +feeling of thankfulness for Pant’s companionship, +that, after arriving at the cliffs, he found +himself being led into a dark cave in a hill of +limestone rock.</p> +<p>“U bogak ivory” (look, here is ivory). The +native whispered the words as if afraid the +extinct monsters would waken from the dead +and demand their tusks. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span></p> +<p>He had lighted a single tallow candle which +gave forth a sickly, flickering light.</p> +<p>The place seemed fairly spooky. Only the pit-pats +of their footsteps wakened dull echoes +through the vaulted cavern. Johnny could not +help feeling that there were more than three men +in this cave. In vain he strained his eyes to +catch a glimpse of the walls to right and left of +him.</p> +<p>They had gone perhaps seventy-five paces into +the darkness when there came a sudden indistinguishable +sound. Johnny thought it like the +dropping of a small rock, followed by a half +suppressed exclamation. A chill crept up his +spine.</p> +<p>They moved on a few paces. Again came a +sound. This time it was like two steps taken in +the dark. At the same instant, fingers gripped +his arm. He sprang into an attitude of defense.</p> +<p>“Stop,” came a whisper in his ear. “Place’s +full of natives.” It was Pant. “When I knock +the candle to the floor, you drop flat and crawl +for the door.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span></p> +<p>For a second Johnny stared in the dark at the +place where Pant’s face should be. He caught +again the puzzling gleam of yellow light.</p> +<p>“All right,” he breathed.</p> +<p>Ten seconds later, as the candle executed a +spiral curve toward the floor and flickered out, +Johnny dropped flat and began to crawl.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='V_THE_BIG_CAT' id='V_THE_BIG_CAT'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> +<h3>THE BIG CAT</h3> +</div> + +<p>Hardly had Johnny and Pant disappeared +over the hill that morning in their quest for the +supposed old ivory of rare value, when things +began to happen in the neighborhood of the +camp. Dave Tower and Jarvis had been +detailed to inspect Mine No. 3, with a view +to opening it as soon as the mother-lode had +been reached in No. 2. Armed with pick +and shovel, they had crossed the first low ridge, +which made a short cut across the bend of the +river, when Jarvis suddenly whispered:</p> +<p>“Hist! Down! The cat!”</p> +<p>Dave dropped to his knees, eyes popping at +the sight just before him. Not twenty yards +from them was a huge tiger. With head up, +tail lashing, he seemed contemplating a leap +which might bring him over a third of the distance +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span> +between them. Two more leaps, and then +what? Dave’s hair prickled at the roots; a chill +ran down his spine; cold perspiration stood out +on his forehead.</p> +<p>“If only we had a gun,” he whispered.</p> +<p>“Keep yer eye on ’im,” the Englishman whispered. +“Don’t flinch nor turn a ’air. ’E’s a bad +un.”</p> +<p>For fully three minutes—it seemed hours to +Dave—the great cat lay spread flat to the snow. +Then a nervous twitch of his paws told that he +was disturbed. Dave’s hands grasped the pick-handle +until it seemed they would crush it to +splinters.</p> +<p>But what was this? The creature turned his +head and looked to the right.</p> +<p>In another second they saw what the tiger +saw. A clumsy, ponderous polar bear, making +her way inland to some rocky cavern for a sleep, +had blundered upon them.</p> +<p>“Ship ahoy!” breathed Jarvis. “Twelve +feet long, if she’s an inch, and a bob for a tail +at that.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span></p> +<p>“Look!” whispered Dave. “She has her cub +with her.”</p> +<p>“And the cat sees ’er. ’Oly mackerel, wot a +scrap.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>When Johnny Thompson dropped on hands +and knees in the cavern after the Eskimo’s +candle had flickered out, he felt his arm seized +by the twitching fingers of Pant, and, half by +his own effort, half by the insistent drag of his +companion, who seemed to be quite at home in +this dungeon-like darkness, he made his way +rapidly toward the door.</p> +<p>Complete darkness appeared to have demoralized +the forces of evil that had been arrayed +against them. Soft-padded footsteps could be +heard here and there, but these persons seemed +to be hurrying like frightened bats to a place of +hiding. Twice they were stumbled upon by +some one fleeing.</p> +<p>Johnny’s mind worked rapidly.</p> +<p>“Pant,” he breathed, “if they strike a light +and hold it, we’re lost!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span></p> +<p>“Got your automatic?”</p> +<p>“Sure.”</p> +<p>“Take time to get hold of it.”</p> +<p>“Got it.”</p> +<p>“Shoot at the first flash of light. That’ll fix +’em. They’re cowards. All natives are.” Pant +jerked out the sentences as he crawled rapidly.</p> +<p>They were none too soon. In another +moment a match flared. Seemingly in the same +instant, so quick was Johnny’s movement, a +blinding flash leaped from the floor and a deafening +roar tore the tomb-like silence.</p> +<p>Johnny had fired at the ceiling, but this was +quite enough. The light flared out. There was +no more lighting of matches.</p> +<p>Creeping stealthily forward, avoiding the +overturning of the smallest stone or bit of shale +which might betray their position, they soon +neared the entrance.</p> +<p>“Gotta make a run for it,” breathed Pant. +“Automatic ready?”</p> +<p>“Ready.”</p> +<p>“Give ’em three rounds, then beat it. Make +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span> +a dash to the right the instant you’re outside. +Ready?”</p> +<p>Johnny felt the hand on his arm tremble for +an instant, then grip hard.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>When the great, white bear and her cub came +upon the scene on that snow-domed hill where +Jarvis and Dave cowered before the tiger, the +point of interest for the tiger was at once shifted +to the fat and rollicking cub. Here was a juicy +feast. And to the great cat, inexperienced as he +must have been in the ways of the creatures of +the very far north into which he had wandered, +the cumbersome mother seemed a rather insignificant +barrier to keep him from his feast. One +spring, a set of those vicious yellow teeth, a +dash away, with the ponderous mother following +at a snail’s pace—that seemed easy. He carefully +estimated the short distance between them.</p> +<p>But if these were the sensations that registered +themselves on the brain cells of this tawny +creature, he had reckoned wrong.</p> +<p>He had made just two springs when the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span> +mother bear right about faced and, nosing her +cub to a position behind her, stood at bay.</p> +<p>Seeing this, the tiger paused. Lashing his +tail and crouching for a spring, he uttered a low +growl of defiance.</p> +<p>The bear’s answer to this was a strange sound +like the hissing of a goose. She held her ground.</p> +<p>Then, seeing that the cat did not spring again, +she wheeled about and began pushing the cub +slowly before her.</p> +<p>“Will ’e get ’im?” whispered Jarvis.</p> +<p>“Don’t know,” answered Dave. “If I had a +rifle, he wouldn’t. Whew! What a robe that +yellow pelt would make! Just prime, too!”</p> +<p>Lashing his tail more furiously than before, +the tiger sprang. Now he was within thirty feet +of the bear, now twenty, now ten. It seemed +that the next spring would bring him to his goal.</p> +<p>But here he paused. The mother was between +him and his dinner. He circled. The bear +circled clumsily. The cub was always behind +her. The tiger stood still. The bear moved +slowly backward, still pushing her cub. Again +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span> +the tiger sprang. This time he was but eight +feet distant. He growled. The bear hissed. +The crisis had come.</p> +<p>With a sudden whirl to one side, the cat +sprang with claws drawn and paws extended. It +was clear that he had hoped to outflank the bear. +In this he failed. A great forepaw of the bear +swung over the tiger’s head, making the air sing.</p> +<p>She nipped at the yellow fur with her ivory +teeth. Here, too, she was too late; the tiger had +leaped away.</p> +<p>The tiger turned. There were flecks of white +at the corners of his mouth. His tail whipped +furiously. With a wild snarl, he threw himself +at the mother bear’s throat. It was a desperate +chance, but for a second it seemed that those +terrible fangs would find their place; and, once +they were set there, once the knife-like claws +tore at the vitals of the bear, all would be over. +Then he would have a feast of good young bear.</p> +<p>At the very instant when all this seemed accomplished, +when Jarvis breathed hoarsely, +“Ah!” and Dave panted, “Oh!”, there came a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span> +sound as of a five-hundred-pound pile-driver +descending upon a bale of hay.</p> +<p>Like a giant plaything seized by a cyclone, the +tiger whirled to the right twelve feet away, then +rolled limply over and over.</p> +<p>“Ee! She packs a wallop!” breathed Jarvis.</p> +<p>“Is he dead?” said Dave.</p> +<p>The bear moved close to the limp form of her +enemy and sniffed the air.</p> +<p>“Looks like she got ’im,” grinned Jarvis, +straightening his cramped limbs.</p> +<p>For the first time the mother bear seemed to +realize their presence, and, apparently scenting +more danger, she began again pushing her cub +before her, disappearing at last over the next +low hill.</p> +<p>“Bully for ’er!” exclaimed Jarvis.</p> +<p>For some time they sat there on the crusted +snow unable to believe that the tiger was dead, +and unwilling to trust themselves too close to his +keen claws and murderous fangs. Finally, Dave +rose stiffly.</p> +<p>“Let’s have a look,” he muttered. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span></p> +<p>“Sure ’e’s done for?”</p> +<p>As they bent over the stiffening form of the +great yellow cat, Jarvis gave the head a turn.</p> +<p>“Broke!” he muttered; “’is neck is broke +short off! I say she packed a wallop!”</p> +<p>“And the skin’s ours!” exclaimed Dave joyously. +“What a beauty! We’ll skin him before +he freezes.”</p> +<p>Suiting his action to his words, he began the +task. He had worked in silence for some time +when he suddenly stood up with a start.</p> +<p>“What’s that?” he exclaimed.</p> +<p>“What’s what?”</p> +<p>“My knife struck metal—a chain about his +neck!”</p> +<p>“Somebody’s pet!” exclaimed Jarvis, “and a +bloomin’ fine one!” He bent over to examine +the chain.</p> +<p>“But whose?” asked Dave.</p> +<p>“’Ere’s the tag. Take a look.”</p> +<p>“Looks oriental. Some numbers and letters. +I can’t read them.”</p> +<p>“Sure,” grinned Jarvis. “Ain’t I been tellin’ +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span> +y’? It’s the bloody bloomin’ ’eathen from the +islands down the sea-coast. They’re ‘angin’ +about ’ere. They’ll be lettin’ out a ’ole menagerie +against us some fine day—elephants, lions, +mebby a hyena or two, and who knows what?”</p> +<p>He stood and stared at Dave; Dave stared +back at him.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>As Johnny Thompson prepared for the dash +out of the cave, where he and Pant were to have +been trapped, he realized that it was a desperate +move. Pant had seen only lances and harpoons. +There were doubtless rifles in the natives’ hands +as well. He knew very well their intentions: they +feared him as a leader and, hoping to trap him +here, had planned to end his life. One by one, +they would pick off his men. At last there would +be a rush and the remaining few would be killed. +Then the supplies would be theirs. In this land +without law, they had nothing to fear but the +failure of their plans. If he could escape this +one time, he would be on his guard; he would +protect himself and his men. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span></p> +<p>“C’mon,” Pant cried. “Three shots; then +for it.”</p> +<p>Three times the automatic shook the walls of +the cavern. Then they were away, out in the +open breaking for cover among the boulders that +lined the cliff.</p> +<p>Now they were dodging from rock to rock; +now, for a second, Johnny saw the natives +swarming from the cave like bees; now, they +were hidden from sight; and now, he paused +for an instant to send a bullet over the head of +a runner who ran too well.</p> +<p>Soon they had lost themselves among the hills. +Only once, in the five-mile run home, did a native +appear on a hilltop. He beckoned, then disappeared.</p> +<p>After a time, when near camp, they slowed +down to a walk.</p> +<p>“Pretty close,” smiled Johnny, slipping his +gun into his pocket.</p> +<p>“I say,” murmured Pant, “do you think they +were the same ones that attacked you back here +on the hill a few nights ago?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span></p> +<p>“No. Their work’s too crude. These others +were real chaps.”</p> +<p>That night, after darkness had fallen over the +hills, Johnny went into Mine No. 1 with a flashlight +alone. Having reached a point where +Langlois had been found dead, he sat down on a +frozen ledge and stared at the rust-reddened +pick-handle, which seemed to point an accusing +finger at him for bringing that fine fellow here +to meet his death. What had killed him? This +was as much a mystery as ever.</p> +<p>There were many mysteries about this place; +there was that earth-tremble that, to-night, was +more noticeable than ever; there were those +strange brown people who had attacked him on +this very hill; there was the tiger slain that very +day and skinned by Dave and Jarvis; there was +the oriental chain and tag about the beast’s neck. +Johnny seemed surrounded by many mysteries +and great dangers. Was it his duty to call the +deal off and desert the mines? Sometimes he +thought it was. Ice conditions were such that it +might yet be possible to get their gasoline +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span> +schooner into open water and go pop-popping +south to Vladivostok. But there would be those +there who waited and hoped for gold to aid them +in the battle against hunger, disease and death. +Could they go empty-handed?</p> +<p>Rumors of a new peril had drifted in that day. +A Reindeer Chukche, coming from a five days’ +journey into the interior, had told of great numbers +of Russians pushing toward the coast. +These could be none other than Bolsheviki who +hoped to gather wealth of one kind or another +by a raid on the coast. If the Chukche was telling +the truth, the stay of the white men could be +prolonged by only a few days at the most.</p> +<p>At the same time, the mining crew had +reported indications that they would reach the +mother-lode in No. 2 within three days.</p> +<p>“We’ll chance it that long,” Johnny said, with +an air of determination, as he rose and left the +mine.</p> +<p>He was crossing a ridge of snow, when, as +once before, his eye was caught by a spinning +black object. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span></p> +<p>“Another phonograph record! Another +warning!” he exclaimed. “Wonder what it will +be this time?”</p> +<p>Johnny whistled thoughtfully to himself, as +he strode forward to pick up the little black +messenger.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VI_IN_THE_GRIP_OF_TERROR' id='VI_IN_THE_GRIP_OF_TERROR'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<h3>IN THE GRIP OF TERROR</h3> +</div> + +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>“Oh, there’s honey in the rock, my brother,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>There’s honey in the rock for you.”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Johnny was listening to the second phonographic +record. In high-pitched falsetto note +the singer had repeated these words over and +over. That was all. If the other message had +seemed void of meaning, this one appeared +doubly so, for here there were no improvised +lines, only these two taken from a threadbare +religious song. What could it mean?</p> +<p>Johnny did not puzzle over this long. There +were too many other important matters to attend +to. Dangers confronted them. He did not fear +the natives for the present. But the Bolsheviki? +If they were coming this way, then here indeed +was peril enough.</p> +<p>“Dave,” he said, after a long period of musing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span> +by the fire, “I’m going to take the team of +gray wolf-hounds with a two-day supply of food +and go see what all this talk about Russians +means. I won’t be in danger of being followed +by natives, for I shall start long before sunrise. +I’d send the boys with the airplane, but the sight +of the machine would give us dead away. I can +probably obtain the information we need concerning +their numbers, rate of travel and so on, +and not be seen at all.</p> +<p>“I shall leave matters in your hands. Push +the mining in No. 2 to the utmost and get the +richest of the mother-lode panned as speedily as +possible. A hundredweight of gold would mean +much. Should I fail to return, and should conditions +seem to warrant the abandoning of camp, +send the plane out to look for me. If they fail +to locate me, take no chances. Clear the ice with +the schooner as quickly as you can. I shall be +all right. I came to this place from Vladivostok +once by reindeer, and went north to Bering +Strait the same way. I can take care of +myself.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span></p> +<p>“All right,” said Dave, a trifle anxiously. +“I’ll do just as you say. Good luck, and may +you come back.”</p> +<p>They gripped hands for a second, then parted.</p> +<p>In the meantime, over in the corner, with a +discarded shirt thrust into the horn of the phonograph +as a muffler, Pant was playing that +newly-found record over and over. A puzzled +frown wrinkled his forehead above the goggles.</p> +<p>Presently he sat up straight, and, tearing the +muffler away, started the machine. His hands +trembled as he sank back in his chair, limp with +excitement. He allowed the record to grind its +way out to the very end, then he nodded his head +and murmured:</p> +<p>“Yes, that’s it, ‘money in the rock.’ <i>Money</i>, +plenty of it.”</p> +<p>When Johnny started out at four o’clock the +next morning, he set his dogs zig-zagging back +and forth to the land side of their cabin. He +was hunting the invisible trail of the Reindeer +Chukche who had come from the interior the day +before. When once the dog-leader had come +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span> +upon the scent of it, the team bounded straight +away over the tundra.</p> +<p>The cabin soon faded from view. First came +the frozen bed of the river, then a chain of low-lying +hills, then broad stretches of tundra again, +with, here and there, a narrow willow-lined +stream twisting in and out between snow-banks. +The steady pat-pat of his “mucklucks” (skin +boots) carried him far that day, but brought him +no sight of the reported Russians.</p> +<p>After a brief sleep, he was away again. He +had traveled for eight hours more, when, upon +skirting the edge of a long line of willows by a +river’s brink, he imagined he caught sight of a +skulking figure on the further bank. He could +not be sure of it. He pressed on, his dogs still +trailing the reindeer sled. If they had come near +the Russian camp, the trail would doubtless have +made a direct turn to right or left of it to escape +passing too closely. The Chukches avoided these +Russians as merchant ships of old avoided a +pirate bark. Contact with them meant loss of +their reindeer, perhaps death as well. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span></p> +<p>So, confident in his false security, Johnny +pushed on. But just as he was about to emerge +from the river-bed, a dozen armed ruffians of the +most vicious-looking type sprang from the +willows.</p> +<p>“Whoa!”</p> +<p>Resistance was useless; Johnny stopped his +team. He looked back and, to his disgust, he +saw that their camp was pitched on the other +side of that long row of willows. These shrubs +had been caught by the frost when their leaves +were yet green. The leaves had not fallen off, +and, even at this time of year, formed a perfect +screen, a fact for which Johnny was later to be +profoundly grateful.</p> +<p>In vain he attempted to play up in a friendly +fashion to the Bolsheviki. They looked upon +him as an enemy and a hostage, for, in the first +place, did they not know that American soldiers +had, for many months, guarded a section of the +Trans-Siberian Railroad against their armies? +And, in the second place, did not Johnny drive a +splendid team of gray wolf-hounds, which would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span> +be of great service to them in their march to the +coast? They did not understand how he came +there. They asked him all manner of foolish +questions, to which he gave quite as foolish +answers, and, when this was at an end, they +fitted a rusty pair of “bracelets” to his feet, and, +thrusting him inside a vile-smelling tent, gave +him vermin-infested blankets to sleep in and +sour brown bread to eat.</p> +<p>“Here’s a pretty mess!” he stormed silently +to himself. “There’s at least a hundred of +them. They must travel slowly, but even so, +four days will bring them to the coast; then, +unless the unforeseen happens, it’s the ocean for +our outfit, or perhaps worse than death. And if +anything goes wrong, it’s all my fault because I +failed to consider that this bunch would have +moved forward from where the Chukche saw +them. I only hope the boys find out in time.”</p> +<p>He listened for a while with aching heart to +the wail of his dogs, who had been turned into +their snowy beds without their supper, and, at +last, from sheer exhaustion, he fell asleep. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span></p> +<p>Two days later he was led toward a peculiar +square cabinet that had been set up in the snow. +Beside it was a pile of glowing embers left from +a fire of willows. The ten men who marched +beside him were not armed. Since they pressed +about him on all sides, cutting off all chance of +his escape, no weapons were needed.</p> +<p>They had not told him what they meant to do. +What the cabinet was, what the bed of coals +meant, he could not even guess. Malignant +grins gave the faces of the men a look that made +his blood run cold. He had seen such an expression +only once before, and that in the movies +when Indians grinned at the prospect of burning +an enemy at the stake.</p> +<p>He was soon inside the cabinet with one of +his guards. This cabinet was divided into two +compartments, each about four feet square. As +soon as he entered one of these, he was told to +remove all his clothing and was then handed a +large, coarse towel. At this, he heaved a sigh +of relief and even chuckled a little at his fright. +He was merely being given a bath—a Russian +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span> +steam-bath. He had heard of such baths, and +was now thoroughly in favor of them.</p> +<p>“A bath is a bath,” he whispered to himself +as he twisted the towel about his hips, “and a +great luxury in this country.”</p> +<p>He was pushed into the other compartment. +It was stinging cold out here. A second guard +appeared with a great metal can filled with the +glowing coals from the fire Johnny had seen +outside. He set this down upon a small stand, +the top of which was on a level with Johnny’s +waist, and backed out. A third man appeared +with a bucket of water and a huge gourd. Taking +a position directly in front of the door, this +guard dipped a full gourd of water and poured +it on the coals. Instantly a dense cloud of steam +rose to the ceiling. This much steam, Johnny +figured, would give one a comfortable bath. But +at that moment, with a fiendish leer on his face, +the man threw on another gourdful, then +another. The door slammed and a bar thudded +into place.</p> +<p>Immediately Johnny took in the full horror of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span> +his situation. He was to be steamed alive. +Already the dense, white cloud was descending. +Lower and lower it came. He crouched down to +avoid it. In another moment, it would engulf +him. No man could live in such a place.</p> +<p>His mind worked like chain-lightning. This +cabinet? How was it fastened down? How +strongly? His fingers felt for the lower edge +of it. Working them down and under, he +secured a hold. Then, with all his superb +strength, he heaved away. Something snapped, +but still the thing held firm. He heaved again. +The touch of steam on his back lent him new +power. Crack! Crack! Then the uprooted cabinet +swayed a second and then crashed into +three of the gaping spectators.</p> +<p>Johnny leaped forward. A burly fellow seized +his arms. Using an old college trick, Johnny fell +backward, taking the man with him. Then, with +his foot on the other’s stomach, he sent him +whirling into two other men, and, before they +could recover from their astonishment, Johnny +went sprinting down the side of the long row of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span> +willows, which had proved his downfall two days +before.</p> +<p>He was headed for home. No Russian, nor +Russian dog-team, could catch him. But he +was clad only in a towel, and there were many +miles of snow between him and his friends.</p> +<p>Suddenly, from the rear, there came the ki-yi +of dogs.</p> +<p>“Hounds!” he murmured in despair. +“Unhitched from the sled. They’ll catch me. +I can’t escape them.” He stared wildly to right +and left as he ran, but saw no way of escape.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>After Johnny Thompson had left camp in +search of the Bolshevik band that eventful +morning, he was no more than out of sight when +a slight figure crept from a snow-buried pup +tent to the right of the cabin and went gliding +away up the hill in the moonlight. It was Pant. +Rapidly he scaled the snow-packed hillside. +Arriving at last at the foot of the rocky cliff, he +began a minute examination of those cliffs. +Once he climbed to a dizzy height by clinging to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span> +the crags. It was a cat-like feat which very few +persons could perform, but he did it with consummate +ease. At another time he dropped flat +on his stomach and crept into a broad crevice +between the rocks. He was gone for a long +time, but finally appeared grimy with dirt and +empty-handed.</p> +<p>“‘Money in the rock,’” he murmured. +“‘Money in the rock for you.’”</p> +<p>Then, as if discouraged with his quest, he +turned and started down the hill.</p> +<p>He had covered half the distance when something +caught his eye. A black spot, the size of +a baseball, had bounced mysteriously past him.</p> +<p>In a twinkling, he was away in mad pursuit. +Slipping, sliding, bounding over the glistening +surface, turning a somersault to land on his feet +and race ahead, he very soon came up with the +thing where it had lodged against a protruding +flat rock.</p> +<p>His fingers grasped it eagerly. Here was a +third message from the unknown one. Perhaps +this would explain all.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VII_THE_MYSTERY_OF_MINE_NO_1' id='VII_THE_MYSTERY_OF_MINE_NO_1'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<h3>THE MYSTERY OF MINE No. 1</h3> +</div> + +<p>When Johnny Thompson saw that the wolf-hounds +were on his trail, though he was without +weapons of any kind and practically destitute +of clothing, he decided to put as great a distance +as possible between himself and the Russians, +then to turn upon the pack and sell his +life dearly, if indeed it must be sold to a murderous +pack of half wolves.</p> +<p>As he sped forward, through his mind there +ran all manner of stories told round northern +camp fires. The stories had to do with these +same Russian wolf-hounds. A man had once +picketed his dogs near him in a blizzard and, +creeping into his sleeping bag, had slept so +soundly throughout the night that he did not +realize the drifting snow was burying him. He +had awakened to struggle against the weight of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span> +snow but could not free himself. Months later, +when the spring thaw had come, his bones had +been found picked clean by his wolf-hounds. A +child at Nome, Alaska, playing with his father’s +team, was scratched by one of them. The smell +of blood had set them wild. They had attacked +him, and before help could arrive had torn him +in pieces. These stories flooding his memory +lent added speed to his stalwart limbs.</p> +<p>He ran three miles, four, five miles. But at +each added mile, the yelp of the hounds came +more distinctly to him. Now he could hear the +loud flap as they sucked in their lolling tongues.</p> +<p>He was becoming fatigued. Soon he must +turn and stand at bay. He looked to the right +and left of him. A cutbank presented a steep +perpendicular surface against which he might +take his stand with the knowledge that they +could not attack him from the rear.</p> +<p>“But shucks!” he half sobbed. “What’s the +use? I’ll be frozen stiff before they get courage +to attack me.”</p> +<p>To the cutbank he ran, then, turning, waited. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span></p> +<p>With rolling tongues, the dogs came hurrying +up to form themselves into a circle, seven gaunt, +gray wolf-hounds grinning at one naked boy.</p> +<p>Then Johnny, catching the humor of the situation, +not only grinned back, but laughed outright, +laughed long and loud. What he said +when he had finished was:</p> +<p>“Bowsie, you old rascal, why didn’t you tell +me it was you?”</p> +<p>It was his own team. Having been unhitched +at the time, they had recognized the stride of +their master and had deserted with him. It was +indeed a joyous meeting.</p> +<p>There was, however, no time to be wasted. +The bitter cold air made Johnny’s skin crinkle +like parchment. His feet, in contact with the +stinging snow, were freezing.</p> +<p>Two of the dogs still wore their seal-skin harnesses. +These Johnny tore off of them and +having broken the bindings, wound them in narrow +strips about his feet, tying them firmly +around his ankles.</p> +<p>So, with his feet protected from the cold, he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span> +took up the fifteen miles of homeward race, the +seven dogs ki-yi-ing at his heels.</p> +<p>Five miles farther on, he came upon a cache +built by some Reindeer Chukche. In this he +found a suit of deer skin. It was old, dirty and +too small, but he crowded into it gratefully. +Then with knees exposed and arms swinging +bare to the elbows he prepared for a more leisurely +ten miles home. He was quite confident +that the lazy and stolid Russians were not following.</p> +<p>Johnny was well within sight of the friendly +hill that sheltered his cabin from the north wind, +when, with a sudden gasp, he stopped and stared. +Coming apparently out of the very heart of the +hill, an immense brown object extended itself +along the horizon and at last floated free in air.</p> +<p>To understand this strange phenomenon, we +must know what had been happening at camp, +and what Pant had been doing since finding the +mysterious black bill.</p> +<p>The ball was covered with black paper. This +much, Pant discovered at once. The rest he left +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span> +to the seclusion of his pup tent and the light of +a candle.</p> +<p>When at last he unwrapped the paper, he +found nothing more than a film, a small, moving-picture +film. This had been developed, dried, +then rewound on a spool. The remainder of the +inner contents of the ball was nothing but blank +paper with never a scratch of writing upon it. +When Pant had examined each scrap carefully, +he held the film to the light. There were pictures +on it. As his keen eyes studied them, +his expression changed from that of puzzled +interest to intense surprise, almost of horror.</p> +<p>For a full half hour he sat there holding them +close to the light, then far away; tipping them +to one angle then another, mirroring them on +the retina of his eye until nothing could efface +them. Then, having rerolled and rewrapped +them, he hid them away among his deer skins +and turning over, fell asleep.</p> +<p>He was awake again by sunrise, and without +pausing for breakfast went directly to the +entrance of Mine No. 1. Having entered without +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span> +a light, he made his way to the back of the +cavity. There he paused to listen. The earth +shudder seemed to fairly shake the rocks loose +about him. One pebble did rattle to the floor. +The next instant there came the clang of rocks +on metal. A light flashed. It was in Pant’s +hand. In the gleaming circle of light from his +electric torch, a brightly polished disk of metal +appeared. It was eating its way through the +frozen wall of sand and rock. One second the +light flashed, the next second Pant was hurrying +from the mine as if his life depended upon it.</p> +<p>Dashing down the hill, he broke into the mess-room +where the men were assembled for hot-cakes +and coffee.</p> +<p>“Arms! arms!” he panted. “Rifles, automatics, +anything. A pick, two picks. C’mon.”</p> +<p>The men, believing that he had gone mad, +stood staring in speechless astonishment.</p> +<p>“C’mon, can’t you?” he pleaded. “It’s the +yellow men, the dirty little yellow men. They’ve +got an infernal machine for cutting out the pay +dirt in blocks. They’ve looted Mine No. 1 while +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span> +we slept. That was the earth-tremble. C’mon, +can’t you? Bring rifles! Anything. We’ll get +them yet!”</p> +<p>Catching a glimmer of his meaning, the men +dashed to the bunkroom and clubroom, to appear +a moment later armed with such weapons as +they could find.</p> +<p>Arriving at the entrance of Mine No. 1, Pant +held up a finger for silence.</p> +<p>“Arms ready,” he whispered, “your left +hand on the shoulder of the man ahead of you. +I’ll lead.”</p> +<p>Without a light, he entered the mine and +beckoned the men to come on. With soft and +shuffling tread they followed, like a chain gang +entering a dungeon. They took fifty paces, +then they halted. A light flashed. Instantly +every man gripped his weapon.</p> +<p>It was only Pant. What they saw before +them caused involuntary ejaculations. A hole +some eighteen inches square had been cut in the +frozen wall.</p> +<p>For a second they listened. The silence was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span> +so complete that the ticking of a watch sounded +like the beat of an alarm clock.</p> +<p>“They’ve gone,” whispered Pant. “C’mon.”</p> +<p>His light blinked out. There followed the +sound of garments rubbing against the walls. +The man behind Pant felt him one instant, the +next he was gone. He had crawled through the +hole. There was nothing to do but follow. One +by one, thrusting their rifles before them, they +crawled through this narrow door from the +mine. To what? They could not even guess.</p> +<p>“’Tis fair spooky,” whispered Jarvis to Dave. +“’Ow does ’e know ’ow ’e should go? Can ’e +see in the dark? ’Ow’d ’e come by the name +Pant anyway?”</p> +<p>“Langlois give it to him,” Dave whispered +back, “the fellow that was killed here, you know. +He claimed Pant could see in the dark and began +calling him ‘Panther Eye.’ The men cut it +down to ‘Panther,’ then to ‘Pant.’ That’s all +I know about it.”</p> +<p>“’E’s rightly named,” growled Jarvis, as he +fumbled his way through the hole in the dark. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span></p> +<p>“This way,” came the low whisper of Pant. +“As you were, hand to shoulder.”</p> +<p>Only the soft pat-pat of their footfalls on the +floor of what appeared to be a narrow runway +broke the tomb-like silence of the place. Now +and again, as they moved forward, Dave Tower +felt his shoulder brush some unseen object. +Each time he shivered and shrank back. He +expected at any moment to hear the roar of +rifles, to find himself engaged in deadly combat +with the mysterious robbers who had looted the +mine of its treasure while they worked within a +stone’s throw of it.</p> +<p>Twice they paused. A silence so deep that it +was painful ensued. No sound came. They +marched solemnly on. And now, they had struck +a steep incline.</p> +<p>“Down low; down low; down low,” came +whispered back from man to man.</p> +<p>They stooped to an almost creeping posture +and began to climb. The ascent was steep as a +stair. Twice Dave lost his footing, and once +came near sending his rifle crashing to the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span> +frozen earth. Some one behind was less fortunate. +There came the clang of steel, then +deathly silence.</p> +<p>Again they crept upward. Suddenly a ray of +light cut through the gloom. In another second, +they were in a veritable flood of light. And yet, +as they glanced rapidly to right and left, they +saw walls of rock. Above them too was a +vaulted ceiling. Only before them was light. +What could it mean?</p> +<p>In an instant they knew. Leaping toward the +opening, they expressed their surprise in +unchecked exclamations.</p> +<p>“A balloon! A balloon!”</p> +<p>It was true. It seemed to them, as they +looked, that the whole side of the mountain had +burst open and allowed a giant dirigible balloon +to float out from its depth.</p> +<p>What had really happened was evident. +These robbers, having located the rich mine and +having no concession to mine it, had discovered +this natural cave and had cut a channel from it +to the place of the gold deposit. They had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span> +reached the point by balloon. Having deflated +it, they had stowed it away in the cave and had +blocked the entrance of the cave with snow. +The next blizzard had defaced every sign of +their presence. Doubtless there had been a +small secret entrance to the cave which none of +Johnny Thompson’s men had discovered.</p> +<p>“They’re gone!” exclaimed Dave.</p> +<p>“And I ’ates to think ’ow much gold they +took with ’em,” mourned Jarvis.</p> +<p>“Quick, the airplane!” shouted Pant, turning +to the two aviators. “There’s a machine gun on +it. We’ll halt them yet. I better go with you. +Some of the rest of you explore the interior +here. They may not have taken the gold.”</p> +<p>Dave Tower snapped on his flashlight, and, +after taking one more look at the giant black +“sausage” in the sky, turned to assist the others +in the exploration of the looted mine. He had +little hope of discovering the treasure, but he did +want to see how they had accomplished the task.</p> +<p>One more question crowded its way to the +front: “How had they killed Frank Langlois?”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VIII_THREE_MEN_DISAPPEAR' id='VIII_THREE_MEN_DISAPPEAR'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<h3>THREE MEN DISAPPEAR</h3> +</div> + +<p>It was the dirigible balloon that Johnny +Thompson saw as he rounded the point of the +hill in his wild flight from the Bolshevik band.</p> +<p>With his dogs grouped about him, he stood +and gazed at it in speechless astonishment. +Where had it come from? What was its mission? +Whither was it going? These and many +other questions sped through his mind as the +balloon rose lazily in air.</p> +<p>Scarcely a moment had passed when a sound +arrested his attention. It was the thunder of +a powerful gasoline engine. He guessed that it +was the motor of his own airplane. He had not +long to doubt, for in a second the machine came +swooping into sight. It made directly toward +the clumsy sausage. Lithe and bird-like it tore +away after the balloon. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span></p> +<p>Was this a friendly visit or an attack? The +answer came in a series of noisy punctuations—the +rat-tat-tat of a machine gun.</p> +<p>This balloon then was an enemy. Dimly the +truth entered Johnny’s mind. He was beginning +to connect the balloon with the little yellow +men who had attacked him, and with the earth +shudder, but how it all fitted in he could not tell. +Who was the enemy?</p> +<p>His eyes were on the two ships of the sky. +The airplane, having circled close to the cabin +of the balloon, had fired a volley, whether +directly at it or above or below it, he could not +tell. Now the plane circled close again. But +what was this? A man was climbing to the +upper rigging of the plane. Now he was standing, +balancing himself directly on top. Johnny +recognized the slim figure of Pant. Now the +plane, with engine dead, drifted toward the +cabin of the balloon. They were almost even +with it. There came three snorts of the engine +and the plane shot beneath the cabin, then out on +the other side. But Pant? Where was he? He +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span> +was not on the upper surface of the plane nor +climbing down on the rigging.</p> +<p>Johnny sat down dizzily. Cold perspiration +stood out on his brow. The excitement, following +hours of fatigue and near starvation, was too +much for him; his head swam; his eyes blurred.</p> +<p>But he shook himself free from these sensations +and gazed skyward. He expected to see +Pant come crashing down to earth. He did not. +There could be but one answer: he had leaped +in midair for the underrigging of the cabin of +the balloon and had caught it. What a feat! +It made Johnny’s head dizzy to think of it. He +did not doubt for one moment that Pant would +do it. But what could be his purpose? Had the +balloon broken loose? Was it drifting free, a +derelict? This he could not believe, for the +thing had seemed to travel in a definite direction. +Besides, if this was true, why the machine-gun +fire? Had they killed the only occupants? +Johnny hoped not. He hated death. Whatever +the men had done, he hoped they had not been +killed. But why had Pant taken such chances? +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span></p> +<p>Then as he looked, he saw a package drop +over the side of the cabin. It fell straight downward, +with tremendous velocity. But there came +a sudden check. It was attached to a parachute. +The parachute had opened. Its course was now +marked by a little down-rush, then a pause, then +a rush again.</p> +<p>He had been so intent on his observation of +this that he did not realize that once more an +object had fallen from the car. This time it was +a man. He also was attached to a parachute.</p> +<p>As he came into Johnny’s circle of vision, the +boy rose and waved his arms, crying with a +hoarse shout of joy:</p> +<p>“Pant! Pant! Good old Pant! He’s safe!”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>When Dave Tower and Jarvis led the little +band of miners back through the cave, they +found, as they had expected, that a small tunnel +had been cut out of the frozen earth to form an +entrance to the mine. Before entering this tunnel, +they paused to look about them. Ranged +about the walls, piled tier on tier, were black +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span> +cubes of sand and gravel. From these came the +glitter of yellow metal. These were cubes of +pay dirt which would yield a rich return when +the spring thaw came. Bits of cable, twisted +coils of wire, a pair of rusty pliers, told that +electricity had been employed as power for +mining.</p> +<p>A smooth spot on the cave’s floor showed +where some form of engine had been set. That +the power of the engine had been supplied by +gasoline was shown by a great pile of empty one +hundred gallon steel tanks which had been stolen +from the company’s supply in the sheds.</p> +<p>Dave picked up the pliers and rubbed the rust +from them.</p> +<p>“They’re Orientals all right,” he mused. +“Pliers got their stamp on ’em. But say! +These boys sure had some ideas about mining +placer gold. A man could take their machine +to Alaska and make a fortune. Let’s have a +look.”</p> +<p>“Sure! Sure!” came from a half score of +throats. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span></p> +<p>They hurried down the narrow tunnel to find +themselves in the mine. Here, as in the cave, +they found cubes of pay dirt piled high on every +side. At the end of it all was a low square +machine with a buzz-saw-like wheel extending +from it. The power wires, still attached to it, +had been cut some ten feet from it.</p> +<p>“’E’s a clever one!” said Jarvis.</p> +<p>“I’ll say so,” agreed Dave.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>Before Pant leaped from the balloon, after +throwing overboard the two hundredweight +sack of gold which the yellow men, in their +fright at the machine-gun fire, had deserted in +the outer cabin, he performed one other valuable +service. He threw over the heavy anchor, +which was attached to a steel cable.</p> +<p>The anchor shot like a plummet for the +ground and proceeded to hang itself securely in +a corner of rock. The progress of the balloon +was instantly halted. Still filled with terror at +the machine-gun fire, the yellow men took to +their parachutes. On landing, they made good +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span> +their escape by losing themselves in the rocky +ledges which rose up from the sea shore. It +was useless to pursue them there.</p> +<p>By the time all this had happened, Dave and +Jarvis, with their men, had come out from the +mine and had joined Johnny, who, still prancing +about in his ridiculous costume, was rejoicing +with Pant over the sudden enriching of their +treasure-hoard.</p> +<p>“Get a windlass,” said Dave. “We’ll bring +that giant bird to earth. There may be more +treasure aboard her.”</p> +<p>In due time the balloon-cabin touched the +snow and the men swarmed upon it.</p> +<p>They were disappointed in their hope of finding +further treasure, but they did find a solitary +man. He was a white man and was totally +unconscious from a blow on the head.</p> +<p>“Dave, you and Jarvis stay here and see what +you can do for the chap,” said Johnny. “All +the rest of you come with me. We’ve got work +ahead of us and a plenty. The Bolshevik band +will be here in less than twenty-four hours. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span> +We’ll have to float our schooner, load the provisions +and gold and beat it.”</p> +<p>He turned once more to Dave and Jarvis. +“If you bring him to consciousness and can +manage it, carry him to the ship. Otherwise +I’ll send two men to help you when we are +through loading.”</p> +<p>Wild hours of tireless labor followed for the +the main gang. To bring the schooner from the +bank to the water-channel, a quarter of a mile +over the ice, was no mean task. It was at last +accomplished. After that, the loading went on +rapidly.</p> +<p>Nothing had been seen of Dave and Jarvis +when the last case of provisions had been +brought aboard.</p> +<p>Johnny chose two of the men and went round +the hill to assist in bringing the injured man to +the ship. Imagine his astonishment when, on +rounding the curve, he saw that the balloon was +gone.</p> +<p>“Gone!” he murmured, dazed at the suddenness +of it. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span></p> +<p>A hasty examination of the surroundings +gave them no sign of the missing men.</p> +<p>“Must have broken loose and sailed away +with them.”</p> +<p>At that instant he caught the gleam of a light +on the western sky.</p> +<p>“Camp fire of the Bolsheviki. We can’t wait +another moment,” he muttered. “And it wouldn’t +do any good if we did. They’re gone.”</p> +<p>He turned and led his men back to the ship.</p> +<p>A half hour later the little schooner was +pop-popping her way through a narrow channel +to open water beyond. She carried, besides her +crew and provisions, a hundredweight of gold +taken in the last three days from Mine No. 2, +and twice as much taken from the robber yellow +men. Thirty-five per cent of this would do +wonders in Vladivostok. Johnny was sitting +and thinking of these things and of a wireless +message he had received but a few days before, +when he suddenly began wondering where Pant +was.</p> +<p>“Say,” he exclaimed, turning to one of his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span> +men, “where’s Pant? Haven’t seen him since +we put out.”</p> +<p>Sure enough, where was he? They searched +the ship. He was not to be found. At last +Johnny spied a note pinned to his spare parka. +It was written by Pant.</p> +<p>“Dear Johnny,” it read, “you will pardon me, +I am sure, for leaving your service at this time. +But you won’t need me down there and Vladivostok +sounds too tame. Up here there is real +adventure.</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>“Good-bye,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'> “PANT.”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Johnny looked at the man beside him and the +man looked at him.</p> +<p>“Queer chap,” murmured Johnny. “But a +real sport at that.”</p> +<p>“No use to try to find him.”</p> +<p>“Not a bit.”</p> +<p>“Queer chap,” Johnny murmured again, +“Queer eyes.”</p> +<p>“That Pant was just short for Panther Eye,” +said the miner. “Men gave him the name. One +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span> +of them claimed he was hunting panthers once +with a skillful surgeon. A panther tore his +right eye out. The surgeon shot the panther +and grafted an eye into Pant’s empty socket. +The fellow claimed he’d seen him with those +yellow goggles off. Said his pupil contracted in +the light like a great cat’s eye. But you can’t +believe half those men tell you.”</p> +<p>“No, you can’t,” said Johnny. “I guess every +chap has a right to have a secret or two about +himself and keep them. Pant had his and kept +it. That’s about as far as we’ll ever get on that +mystery. What say we go to chow?”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IX_STARTLING_PERILS' id='IX_STARTLING_PERILS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<h3>STARTLING PERILS</h3> +</div> + +<p>In the harbor at Vladivostok a thirty-ton gasoline +schooner threaded its way through narrow +channels left by ocean liners and gunboats +toward a deserted water-front where half-dismantled +warships of ancient Russian design lay +rotting in the sun. Straight to a rickety wharf +they made their way.</p> +<p>Hardly had they thrown a line over a swaying +post when two men sprang across the narrow +space.</p> +<p>“Watch your step!”</p> +<p>It was Johnny Thompson who spoke. The +man with him was the young doctor of his +outfit.</p> +<p>As they cleared the dock and entered a side +street of this metropolis of eastern Russia, they +walked with a heavy tread; their step lacked the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span> +elasticity that their youthful faces would warrant. +They were either very weary or very +heavily burdened. No burdens were visible, +though something might be concealed beneath +their greatcoats. There was, indeed, a bulkiness +about their forms from shoulder to waist, +but in this Arctic clime, coming as they had +from the north, one might easily credit this to +sweaters.</p> +<p>As they reached the shadow of a building, +Johnny stopped and fumbled in his pocket. At +the same time his gaze wandered away toward +the north.</p> +<p>“Wonder where Pant is now?” he grumbled. +“I miss the little rascal, don’t you?”</p> +<p>“Sure do.”</p> +<p>“Wonder what made him drop us flat that +way?”</p> +<p>“Can’t say. Had a reason, though. He +always had a reason, and a good one. There +was something he wanted to do.”</p> +<p>“Hope he does it quick and gets on down +here. He’s been part of my bodyguard so long, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span> +I confess I don’t feel safe in a new place like +this without him.”</p> +<p>Johnny stopped fumbling in his pocket and +drew forth three yellow slips of paper.</p> +<p>“Here’s the messages. I wrote ’em all down. +Mighty little good they’ll do us.”</p> +<p>He read them aloud:</p> +<div class='la'> +<p>“‘When can you come across?’”</p> +<p style=' margin-left:20em;'>(Signed) “M.”</p> +</div> + +<div class='la'> +<p>“‘We must produce. At once.’”</p> +<p style=' margin-left:20em;'>(Signed) “M.”</p> +</div> + +<div class='la'> +<p>“‘Am in danger. Come across.’”</p> +<p style=' margin-left:20em;'>(Signed) “M.”</p> +</div> + +<p>“What does a fellow get out of that, anyway?” +he grumbled. “What does this fellow +‘M’ expect? The first one reached us after we’d +been operating two months, the second a month +later, and the third a month after that. What +does he think this land is like? Three thousand +miles! But then, I suppose the rotten Russians +did it. Made threats, likely.”</p> +<p>“Doesn’t give any address,” commented the +doctor. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span></p> +<p>“Not a scratch. We’d better go to the Red +Cross headquarters, wherever that is. Let’s +hunt it up.”</p> +<p>Again they took up their heavy, even tread +and came out from the narrow street onto a +broader one, which appeared to lead to the business +section of the city.</p> +<p>As Johnny sniffed the pungent odor of spring +in the twilight air, he was forcibly reminded of +the time consumed in that journey from the +mines to Vladivostok. He regretted the many +delays. When they occurred, he had fairly +fumed at them. He realized now that “M,” +whoever that might be, the agent sent from +Chicago to superintend the distribution of supplies +for the refugee orphans, might have been +compelled to leave Russia before this. That the +Russians, disturbed by a thousand suspicions +and fears, would not tolerate a stranger who +had no apparent purpose for being in their land, +he knew all too well. The agent could state the +purpose of his presence in the beginning and get +away with it, but when months had elapsed and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span> +nothing had been done, what dark suspicions +might be directed against him?</p> +<p>Johnny heaved a sigh of resignation. Nothing +that had happened could have been avoided. +Time and again ice-floes clogging the waters of +those northern seas had threatened to crush +their craft, and only by long detours and many +hours of tireless pulling away from the giant +cakes had they found a passage. The journey +could have been made by reindeer in the same +length of time. As he thought of that, his heart +skipped a beat. What if the little yellow men +who had come so near making away with that +two hundredweight of gold had succeeded in +securing reindeer, and had made their way to +Vladivostok? What would they not risk to +regain possession of the gold that had been +snatched from them?</p> +<p>As he thought of this, he picked his steps +more cautiously along the slippery streets. He +cast a glance to the right and left of him. Then +he started and plucked at his companion’s +sleeve. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span></p> +<p>“Hist!” he whispered. “Watch the alley to +the right!”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>When Pant so abruptly deserted Johnny +Thompson’s service, leaving only a vaguely +worded note to tell of his going, he had, indeed, +a plan and a purpose. So daring was this purpose +that had he taken time to think it through +to its end, he might never have attempted it. +But Pant thought only of beginnings of enterprises, +leaving the conclusions to work themselves +out as best they might, effectively aided +by his own audacity.</p> +<p>His purpose can best be stated by telling what +he did.</p> +<p>When he left the schooner that night and +crossed over the shadowy shore ice, a blizzard +was rising. Already the snow-fog it raised had +turned the moon into a misty ball. Through it +the gleaming camp fires of the Bolshevik band +told they had camped for the night not five +miles from the mines.</p> +<p>The blizzard suited Pant’s purposes well. It +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span> +might keep the Russians in camp for many +hours, and would most certainly make an effective +job of a little piece of work which he +wished to have done.</p> +<p>With a watchful eye he skirted the cabin they +had left but a brief time before. A pale yellow +light shone from one of the windows. Either +the place was being looted by natives, or the +yellow men had taken refuge there. The presence +of a half-score of dogs scouting about the +outside led him to believe that it was the natives. +Where, then, were the Orientals?</p> +<p>Breathing a hope that they might not be +found in the mines or the machine sheds, he +hurried on. With a hand tight gripped on his +automatic, he made his way into Mine No. 1. +All was dark, damp and silent. The very ghost +of his dead comrade seemed to lurk there still. +Who was it that had killed Frank Langlois, +and how had it been done? Concerning these +questions, he now had a very definite solution, +but it would be long before he knew the whole +truth. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span></p> +<p>Once inside the mine, he hastened to the +square entrance that had been cut there by +the strange buzz-saw-like machine of the Orientals. +The wall was thin at this place. With +a pick he widened the gap until the machine +could be crowded through, and with great difficulty +he dragged it to the entrance of the mine. +Once here his task was easier, for the machine +was on runners and slid readily over the hard-crusted +snow. With a look this way, then that, +he plunged into the rising storm. Pushing the +machine before him, he presently reached the +mouth of Mine No. 3 in which three days of +steam-thawing had brought the miners to a +low-grade pay dirt. The cavity was cut forty +feet into the side of the bank which lay over +the old bed of the river.</p> +<p>Having dragged the machine into the farthest +corner, he returned to the entrance and at +once dodged into the machine sheds. To these +sheds he made five trips. On a small dog-sled +he brought first a little gasoline engine and +electric generator, next eight square batteries, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span> +then some supplies of food, a tank of gasoline, +and some skin garments from the storeroom. +His last journey found the first gray streaks of +dawn breaking through the storm. He must +hasten.</p> +<p>With a long knife he began cutting square +cakes of snow and fitting them into the entrance +of the mine. Soon, save for a narrow gap well +hidden beneath a ledge of rock, the space was +effectively blocked.</p> +<p>He stretched himself, then yawned sleepily.</p> +<p>“It’s a poor game that two can’t play at,” +he muttered. “Now, if I can get this machinery +singin’, we’ll see what Mine No. 3 has +saved up for us. Unless I miss my guess, from +the way the rock lays, she’ll be a rich one.”</p> +<p>With that he crept into his sleeping-bag and +was soon lost in the land of dreams.</p> +<p>Pant’s first act, after awaking some six hours +later, was to connect four of his batteries in +series, then to connect the ends of two wires to +the poles of the series. The wires were attached +at the other end to a socket for an electric light. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span></p> +<p>When the connections were completed he +screwed in a small bulb. The filament in the +lamp glowed red, but gave no light.</p> +<p>Two batteries were added to the series, then +two more. At this, the light shone brightly, +dispelling the gloom of the place and driving +the shadows into the deepest recesses.</p> +<p>With a smile on his lips, the boy twisted a +wire into a coil, connected it to the battery circuit, +watched it redden, then set his coffee-pot +over it.</p> +<p>He was soon enjoying a cup of hot coffee and +pilot bread.</p> +<p>“Not so bad! Not even half bad!” he muttered +good-naturedly to himself. “Electricity +is great stuff. Now for the mining stunt!”</p> +<p>He listened for a moment to the howl of the +blizzard outside, then began busying himself +with the machinery at hand. Connecting the +batteries to the gasoline generator to give it a +“kick-off,” he heard the pop of the engine with +evident satisfaction. He next connected all his +batteries in series and, having connected the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span> +engine, ran wires from it to the motor in the +strange, mining buzz-saw. There followed a +moment of suspense, then a grunt of disgust.</p> +<p>“Not enough voltage. Gotta get more batteries +to-night. Dangerous, too. Storm’s +going down. Bolsheviki coming in. Natives +prowling an’ yellow men, don’t know about. +Gotta do it though.”</p> +<p>At that he sat down on his sleeping-bag, and, +with arms outstretched, like Jack London’s man +of the wild, he slept the uneasy sleep of one +who hunts and is hunted.</p> +<p>Night came at last and, with it, wakefulness +and action. Cutting a hole through the snow-wall, +which under the drive of the storm had +grown to a surprising thickness, he crept out +and slid down the hard bank, leaving no tracks +behind.</p> +<p>The storm had abated; the moon and stars +were out. As he dodged into the store sheds, +he fancied that he saw a shadow flit from sight +at the other end.</p> +<p>Working rapidly, he unearthed four fresh +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span> +batteries. They were heavy affairs. A sled +improvised from a plank and a bit of wire +would aid him in bringing them up the hill. +He had just arranged this contrivance and was +about to turn toward the door, when a sudden +darkening of the patch of moonlight admitted +by the open door caused him to leap behind the +massive shape of a smelter. He peered around +the edge of it, his breath coming rapidly.</p> +<p>Through his mind sped the question: “Bolsheviki, +natives, or yellow men?”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>Upon freeing itself from the frozen claybank, +the sausage balloon, with Dave Tower, +Jarvis and the unconscious stranger on board, +rose rapidly.</p> +<p>In their wild consternation, Dave and Jarvis +did not realize this until the intense cold of the +upper air began to creep through the heavily-padded +walls of the cabin.</p> +<p>At this, Jarvis dropped on his stomach and +stared down through the plate-glass on the +floor. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span></p> +<p>“Shiver my bones!” he ejaculated, “we’re a +mile ’igh and goin’ ’igher!”</p> +<p>At this word Dave dashed for the door. He +had it half open. A blast of air so cold that it +seemed solid ice rushed its way through the +opening.</p> +<p>Immediately Jarvis threw himself against the +door.</p> +<p>“What’ll y’ do?” he stormed. “I ’ates to +think ’ow stiff you’d freeze h’out there in the +’alf of a second.”</p> +<p>Dave shook with the cold and the excitement. +The stranger in the corner groaned.</p> +<p>Jarvis sprang to the gasoline motor.</p> +<p>“If we can get ’er started we’ll ’ave some +’eat.”</p> +<p>After five minutes of fumbling about with +stiffening fingers, he straightened up with a +sigh.</p> +<p>“Can’t make ’ead nor tail of ’er. These +bloomin’ ’eathen; they make such queer +riggin’s.”</p> +<p>Dave did not answer. He had discovered a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span> +series of sealed wet batteries lined against the +wall and, having dragged one of these loose +from its wiring, prepared to test it out with a +piece of insulated wire.</p> +<p>In a second there came a blinding flash.</p> +<p>“Charged! Charged to the gunwale!” he +exulted. “Now if we can only hook them up +with the heating system of this cabin, we’re all +right. Give us a hand.”</p> +<p>Jarvis, catching his idea, began searching for +the connecting wires of the heating system, +while Dave connected the batteries in series.</p> +<p>“’Ere they are,” he exclaimed suddenly. +“Right ’ere, me lad.”</p> +<p>Soon a life-sustaining warmth came gently +stealing over the place.</p> +<p>“Take hoff ’alf the batteries,” suggested +Jarvis, “’alf’s a plenty. There’s no tellin’ ’ow +long we’ll be sailin’ in this hark.”</p> +<p>This was hardly done when their attention +was attracted by the stranger. He had groaned +and turned over.</p> +<p>“Now that it’s warm enough,” suggested +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span> +Dave, “we’d better try to help the poor fellow +back to consciousness. If he hasn’t suffered a +concussion of the brain, he’ll live yet, and perhaps +he can tell us things. There are plenty of +questions I’d like to ask him.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” exclaimed Jarvis eagerly. “’Oo killed +Frank Langlois.”</p> +<p>They went to work over the man. Having +removed his outer garments, they unbuttoned +his shirt and began chafing his hands, arms and +chest, till they were rewarded by a sigh of +returning consciousness.</p> +<p>“Where am I?” the man whispered, as he +opened his eyes.</p> +<p>“You’re all right,” answered Dave quickly. +“Drink this and go back to sleep.”</p> +<p>He held a cup of steaming malted milk to the +man’s lips. He drank it slowly. Then, turning +an inquiring look on Dave, he murmured, +“American?”</p> +<p>In another second he was lost in a sleeping +stupor.</p> +<p>Dave twisted himself about and gazed down +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span> +at the panorama of purple shadows that flitted +along beneath them.</p> +<p>“Patient doing well,” he murmured at last. +“Going due north by west. Forty miles an +hour, I’d say. Beautiful prospects for all of us, +Mr. Jarvis. Going right on into a land that +does not belong to anybody and where nobody +lives. Upon which hundred thousand square +miles would you prefer to land?”</p> +<p>Jarvis did not answer. He was dreaming +day dreams of other adventures he had had in +that strange no man’s land.</p> +<p>Finally he shook himself and mumbled:</p> +<p>“No ’opes. No ’opes.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I wouldn’t say it was as bad as that,” +smiled Dave. “Let’s have a cup of tea.”</p> +<p>“Yes, let’s,” murmured Jarvis.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='X_PLAYING_A_LONE_HAND' id='X_PLAYING_A_LONE_HAND'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> +<h3>PLAYING A LONE HAND</h3> +</div> + +<p>Hardly had Johnny Thompson in Vladivostok +uttered his warning to the doctor than a figure +leaped out at him from a dark doorway. Not +having expected an attack from this direction, +Johnny was caught unprepared. A knife +flashed. He felt a heavy impact on his chest. +A loud snap followed by a scream from his +assailant. There came the wild patter of fleeing +footsteps, then the little drama ended.</p> +<p>“Hurt?” inquired the doctor, a deep concern +expressed in his tone.</p> +<p>“Nope,” Johnny smiled. “But I’m afraid +the rascal’s ripped a hole in one of my moose-hide +sacks. The gold is leaking out.”</p> +<p>“Hang the gold!” ejaculated the doctor. +“Let it go. It’s done its part—saved your +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span> +life. An armor of gold! I’d say that’s some +class!”</p> +<p>“That’s all right,” said Johnny, still keeping +an eye out for other assailants. “But sentiment +won’t buy biscuits and honey for starving children. +Gold will. Give us a hand at stopping +the leak.”</p> +<p>“Go easy,” admonished the doctor, “you’ll +give the whole thing away.”</p> +<p>They worked cautiously, revealing nothing to +a possible prying eye. When the task was completed, +Johnny stooped to pick up the hilt of the +broken blade. He turned it over and over in +his hand, regarding it curiously.</p> +<p>“Oriental, all right,” he murmured. “I wonder +if those little rascals could have beaten us +here.”</p> +<p>“Come on,” exclaimed the doctor impatiently, +“this is no place for wondering. I’m for a safe +place inside somewhere.”</p> +<p>A few turns brought them to Red Cross +headquarters, and to one of the big surprises of +Johnny’s rather adventurous life. He had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span> +hardly crossed the threshold when his lips +framed the word:</p> +<p>“Mazie!”</p> +<p>Could he believe his eyes? Yes, there she +was, the girl chum of his boyhood days, the girl +who had played tennis and baseball with him, +who had hiked miles upon miles with him, who +swam the sweeping Ohio river with him. The +girl who, in Chicago, having tried to locate him, +had come near to losing her life in a submarine.</p> +<p>“Mazie! Mazie!” he whispered. Then, +“How did you come here?”</p> +<p>“By boat, of course,” smiled Mazie. “How’d +you think?” She took both his hands in hers.</p> +<p>“But, Mazie, this is a man’s place. It’s dangerous. +Besides, what—”</p> +<p>“What’s my business? Well, you see, I’m +your agent. I’m going to spend all that splendid +gold you’ve been digging to help the orphans. +I’m ‘M.’ It was I who did all that frantic +wireless stuff. Did you get it?”</p> +<p>“I did,” smiled Johnny, “and if I’d known it +was you I would have come on by wireless.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span></p> +<p>“But now,” he said, after a moment’s reflection, +“as Jerry the Rat would say, ‘Wot’s de +lay?’”</p> +<p>Mazie sighed. “Honest, Johnny, have you +the gold? Because if you haven’t, it’s ‘Home, +James,’ for me. These Russians are the most +suspicious people! They’ve threatened to put +me aboard ship twenty times because I wasn’t +making good. I wasn’t feeding anybody, as I +have said I would. And, oh, Johnny!” she +gripped his arm, “the last three days I’ve been +so frightened! Every time I ventured out, day +or night, I have seen little yellow men dogging +my footsteps; not Japanese military police, but +just little yellow men.”</p> +<p>“Hm,” grunted Johnny, “I fancy Doc and I +met one of them just now. He seemed to know +us, too. Here’s his dagger.”</p> +<p>“Broken?” exclaimed Mazie. “How?”</p> +<p>Johnny stepped to the door of the small parlor +and closed it.</p> +<p>“Gold,” he whispered, “an armor of gold.”</p> +<p>From beneath his coat he drew a sack of gold. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span></p> +<p>“Yes, Mazie, we’ve got the gold—plenty of +it. Again I ask you, ‘Wot’s de lay?’”</p> +<p>Mazie clasped her hands in glad surprise. +For fully three minutes she acted the part of a +happy child dancing around a Christmas tree, +with Johnny doing the part of Christmas tree +and delighted parent all in one.</p> +<p>At last, she came down to earth.</p> +<p>“What we need is food and shelter for the +poor little wretches. Oh, Johnny, I can’t tell +you—”</p> +<p>“Don’t need to,” interrupted Johnny, “I soldiered +in this God-forgotten hole for nine +months. Tell me what we can do first and +fastest.”</p> +<p>“Well, there’s a great empty hotel down in +the street St. Jacobs. It has a wonderful dining-room, +big enough for a thousand women and +children. We can rent it for gold.”</p> +<p>“For gold,” said Johnny, setting a sack of +gold on the table.</p> +<p>“Then we can get rice and sweet potatoes +from China by ship, for gold.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span></p> +<p>“For gold,” again echoed Johnny, banging +three heavy sacks on the table.</p> +<p>“Oh, aren’t you the Midas!” exclaimed +Mazie, clapping her hands.</p> +<p>“But, Johnny,” she said presently, “there’s +one more thing. It’s hard, and I’m afraid a +bit dangerous. Rice and sweet potatoes are not +enough for starving people.”</p> +<p>“I’ll say not.”</p> +<p>“They need soup. Many would die without +it. Soup means meat. We must have it. The +nearest cattle are a hundred miles away. The +Mongols have them. They are the border traders +between China and Russia, you know. They +have cattle—hundreds of them. They can be +bought for gold.”</p> +<p>“For gold,” smiled Johnny, patting his chest +which still bulged suspiciously. “I’ll be off for +the cattle in the morning. I’ll leave Doc here +to do what he can, and to look after you.”</p> +<p>“Good!” exclaimed Mazie, clapping her +hands again. “The Red Cross will supply you a +band of trustworthy Russians to help drive the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span> +cattle here. The Mongols won’t dare bring +them.”</p> +<p>“All right,” said Johnny. “And now, what +about the supposed hospitality of the Red Cross? +I’m hungry. So is Doc.”</p> +<p>“Right this way,” and Mazie hurried through +the door.</p> +<p>Half an hour later the two were enjoying +such a meal as they had not eaten for months; +not because of its bountifulness, nor richness, +but because it was prepared by a woman.</p> +<p>“To-morrow,” said Johnny, as he murmured +good-night, “I am to venture into one more +unknown land.”</p> +<p>“Yes, and may your patron saint protect you +as he has done in the past,” said Mazie.</p> +<p>“My patron saint is a miss,” smiled Johnny, +“and her name is Mazie. Good-night.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>Realizing that he was trapped, the instant +that forms blocked the door of the machine +sheds at the Seven Mines, Pant tackled the problem +of escape. If these were natives or yellow +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span> +men, they would treat him rough. If they were +Bolsheviki, he could hope for no better fate. +His only hope lay in escape. The place had no +other door and no open windows. He must +gain his freedom by strategy. Evidently, he +must play the cat-and-mouse act about the piles +of supplies and machinery.</p> +<p>As he dodged back to a position behind a large +ore crusher, he managed to catch sight of the +two men.</p> +<p>“Bolsheviki!” he gasped inaudibly. “What +giants!”</p> +<p>Full-bearded giants they were, reminding him +of nothing so much as of Bluebeard in the fairy +books, or the Black Brothers in “The Lost +River.”</p> +<p>Seeming to scent him, as a dog scents a rat, +they moved cautiously down the narrow passage +between piles. As yet, they had not caught sight +of him. Hope rose. Perhaps they would pass +by him. Then he could make a dash for it. +Yet, this was not entirely satisfactory. They +would follow him, would see where he had gone, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span> +if he escaped to the mine. Then all his plans +would go glimmering.</p> +<p>Instantly there flashed through his mind a +bolder and, if it worked, a better plan. Moving +close to the crusher, he put his hand to the great +hopper that rested on and towered above it. +This was made of iron and was fully eight feet +wide and quite as deep. His keen eye measured +the aperture at the bottom. No giant, such +as these were, could crowd through that hole. +And the hopper was heavy. Applying all his +strength to it, he felt it give ever so slightly. +It was not bolted down; it was merely balanced +there. He would be able to topple it over. +And, once over, it would be a difficult affair to +handle, especially from beneath.</p> +<p>As he waited, his heart thumped so loudly +that it seemed the Russians must hear and +charge down upon him.</p> +<p>They came on cautiously, peering this way +then that. He caught the gleam of a knife, the +dull-black shine of an automatic. It was a man +hunt, sure enough—and he was the man. Now +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span> +they were five paces from him, now three, now +two. His breath came in little inaudible gasps. +His muscles knotted and unknotted.</p> +<p>And now the moment had come. The men +were even with the crusher, on the opposite side +from him. Gathering all his strength, he heaved +away at the hopper. There followed a grinding +sound, a shout of warning, then a dull thud. +The enemy were trapped.</p> +<p>Pant spun round the crusher like a top. Seizing +the wire he had arranged for his improvised +sled, he rushed toward the door, dragging the +batteries after him.</p> +<p>A glance backward came near convulsing him +with laughter. One of the Russians had succeeded +in thrusting his head through the narrow +opening at the top of the inverted hopper. Here +he stuck. To the boy, he resembled a backwoodsman +encircled by a barber’s huge apron.</p> +<p>But there was little time for mirth; business +was at hand. New problems confronted him. +Were other Bolsheviki near the shed? If so, +then all was lost. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span></p> +<p>Poking his head out of the door, he peered +about carefully. There was not a person in +sight. The wind had risen.</p> +<p>“Good!” he muttered, “it will hide my +tracks!”</p> +<p>He was soon speeding across the snow. In +another five minutes he was peering like a woodchuck +from his hole in the snowbank. His batteries +were already inside. If he had not been +observed, he had only to block his entrance and +leave the wind to plaster it over with drifting +snow.</p> +<p>As he looked his brow wrinkled. Then he +dodged back, drawing the snow-cake door after +him. The two Russians had emerged from the +shed.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>For hours on end the balloon, with Dave +Tower, Jarvis and the stranger on board, now +hundreds of miles from the mines, swept over +the barren whiteness of unexplored lands. The +sun went down and the moon shone in all its +glory. The fleeting panorama below turned to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span> +triangles great and small—triangles of pale +yellow and midnight blue. Now and again the +earth seemed to rise up toward them. By this +Dave and Jarvis knew that they were drifting +over snow-capped hills. When it receded, they +knew they were over the tundra. Sometimes +they caught the silver flash and gleam of a river +the ice of which had been kept clear of snow +by the incessant sweep of the wind.</p> +<p>As Dave crouched by the plate-glass window +staring down at that wonderful and terrible +spectacle of an unknown land, he asked himself +the question: “Was this land ever viewed by +mortal man?”</p> +<p>The answer could be only a surmise. Perhaps +some struggling band of political exiles, fighting +their way through summer’s tundra swamps and +over winter’s blizzard-swept hills, had passed +this way, or lingered to die here. Who could +tell? Surely nothing was known of the mineral +wealth, the fish, the game, the timber of this +unexplored inland empire. What a field to +dream of! +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129' name='page_129'></a>129</span></p> +<p>His mind was drawn from its revels by a +groan from the stranger. He was awake and +conscious. Propping himself half up on an +elbow, he stared about him.</p> +<p>“Where am I?” He sank back, an expression +of amazement and fear written on his face.</p> +<p>“Who are you?” asked Dave.</p> +<p>“I—why—I,” the man’s consciousness +appeared to waver for a second. “Why, I’m +Professor Todd from Tri-State University.”</p> +<p>“What were you doing with the Orientals?”</p> +<p>“Orientals?” The man looked puzzled. +“Orientals? Oh, you mean the natives; the +Chukches. Why, I was studying them. Getting +their language, taking pictures, getting phonographic +records, and—”</p> +<p>Suddenly the man’s face went white.</p> +<p>“Where—where are we?” he stammered +through tight-set lips. The balloon, caught in a +pocket of thin air, had caused the car to lurch.</p> +<p>“Taking a little trip,” said Dave reassuringly. +“You’re all right. We’ll land after a bit.”</p> +<p>“Land? So we are on a ship? I’ve been +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span> +sick? We’re going home. It is well. Life with +the Chukches was rotten, positively rotten—positive—”</p> +<p>His voice trailing off into nothingness. He +was asleep again.</p> +<p>Dave stared at him. Here was a new mystery. +Was this man lying? Had he been in collusion +with the Orientals, and was he trying to +hide that fact; or had the rap on his head caused +a lapse of memory, which blotted out all recollections +of the affair in the case and mine?</p> +<p>“Look, Dave!” exclaimed Jarvis suddenly, +“as I live it’s the City of Gold!”</p> +<p>In the east the sun was just peeping over the +horizon. But Jarvis was not looking in that +direction. He was looking west. There, catching +the sun’s first golden glow, some object had +cast it back, creating a veritable conflagration +of red and gold.</p> +<p>Dave, remembering to have viewed such a +sight in other days, and in what must have been +something of the same location, stared in silence +for a full minute before he spoke: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span></p> +<p>“If it is,” he said slowly, “there’s only one +salvation for us. We’ve got to get down out of +the clouds. The last time I saw that riot of +color it was on the shore of the ocean, or very +near it, and to drift over the Arctic Ocean in +this crazy craft is to invite death.”</p> +<p>He sprang for the door which led to the narrow +plank-way about the cabin and to the rigging +where the valve-cord must hang suspended.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XI_DANGLING_IN_MID_AIR' id='XI_DANGLING_IN_MID_AIR'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<h3>DANGLING IN MID AIR</h3> +</div> + +<p>Before dawn, the morning after his interview +with Mazie, Johnny was away for the camp of +the Mongols. There was a moist freshness in +the air which told of approaching spring, yet +winter lingered.</p> +<p>It was a fair-sized cavalcade that accompanied +him; eight burly Russians on horseback and +six in a sled drawn by two stout horses. For +himself he had secured a single horse and a +rude sort of cutter. He was not alone in the +cutter. Beside him sat a small brown person. +This person was an Oriental. There could be +no mistake about that. Mazie had told him only +that here was his interpreter through whom all +his dealings with the Mongols would be done.</p> +<p>He wondered much about the interpreter. He +had met with some fine characters among the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span> +brown people. There had been Hanada, his +school friend, and Cio-Cio-San, that wonder-girl +who had traveled with him. He had met +with some bad ones too, and that not so long +ago. His experiences at the mines had made +him, perhaps, unduly suspicious.</p> +<p>He did not like it at all when he found, after +a long day of travel and two hours of supper +and pitching camp, with half the journey yet to +go, that this little yellow person proposed to +share his skin tent for the night. At first he +was inclined to object. Yet, when he remembered +the feeling that existed between these people +and the Russians, he realized at once that he +could scarcely avoid having the interpreter for a +tent-mate.</p> +<p>Nothing was said as the two, with a candle +flickering and flaring between them, prepared to +slip into their sleeping-bags for the night.</p> +<p>When, at last, the candle was snuffed out, +Johnny found that he could not sleep. The cold +air of the long journey had pried his eyes wide +open; they would not go shut. He could think +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span> +only of perils from small yellow people. He +was, indeed, in a position to invite treachery, +since he carried on his person many pounds of +gold. He, himself, did not know its exact +value; certainly it was thousands of dollars. He +had taken that which the doctor had carried, +and had left the doctor to do what he could for +the sufferers, and to assist Mazie in her preparations +of the great kitchens and dining-room +where thousands were to be fed.</p> +<p>For a long time, he thought of treachery, of +dark perils, reaching a bloody hand out of the +dark. But presently a new and soothing sensation +came to him. He dreamed of other days. +He was once more on the long journey north, +the one he had taken the year previous. Cio-Cio-San +was sleeping near him. They were on +a great white expanse, alone. There was no +peril; all was peace.</p> +<p>So great was the illusion that he scratched a +match and gazed at the sleeping face near him.</p> +<p>He gave a little start at the revelation it +brought. Certainly, there was a striking resemblance +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span> +here to the face of Cio-Cio-San. Yet, +he told himself, it could not be. This person +was a man. And, besides, Cio-Cio-San was now +rich. She was in her own country living in +luxury and comfort, a lady bountiful among her +own people.</p> +<p>He told himself all this, and yet so much of +the illusion remained that he fell asleep and slept +soundly until the rattle of harness and the shout +of horsemen told him that morning was upon +them and they must be off.</p> +<p>He looked for his companion. He was gone. +When Johnny had dressed, he found the interpreter +busily assisting with the morning repast.</p> +<p>“Just like Cio-Cio-San,” he muttered to himself, +as he dipped his hands into icy water for +a morning splash.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>After his escape from the two Bolsheviki in +the machine shed, Pant sat by the entrance to +his mine in breathless expectancy. The two +Russians certainly had not seen him enter the +mine, but others might have done so, and, more +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span> +than that, there was grave danger that they +would track him to his place of hiding.</p> +<p>He was not surprised when his alert ear +caught a sound from without, close at hand. He +only crowded a little further back into the corner, +that the light from the broken-in entrance, +providing it was discovered and crushed, should +not fall upon him.</p> +<p>His heart thumped loudly. His hand gripped +his automatic. He expected immediate action +from without. His hopes of reaching the +mother-lode of this mine vanished. He thought +now only of escape.</p> +<p>But action was delayed. Now and then there +came sounds as of footsteps and now a scratching +noise reached his ear. The crust of the +snow was hard. Perhaps they were attempting +to tear it away with some crude implement, a +stick or board.</p> +<p>As he listened, he heard the whine of a dog. +So this was it? One of their hounds had +tracked him down. They were probably afraid +of him and would wait for him to come out. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span></p> +<p>“In that case,” he whispered to himself, +“they will wait a long, long time.”</p> +<p>He did not desert his post. To be caught in +the far end of the mine meant almost certain +torture and death.</p> +<p>As he listened, he heard the dog’s whine again +and again, and it was always accompanied by the +scratching sound. What could that mean? A +hound which has found the lair of its prey does +not whine. He bays his message, telling out to +all the world that he has cornered his prey.</p> +<p>The more the boy thought of it, the more certain +he became that this was not one of the +Russian hounds. But if not, then what dog was +it? Perhaps one of Johnny Thompson’s which +had escaped. If it were, he would be a friend.</p> +<p>Of one thing Pant became more and more +positive: there were no men with the dog. From +this conclusion he came to a decision on a definite +course of action. If the dog was alone, +whether friend or foe, he would eventually +attract attention and that would bring disaster. +The logical thing to do would be to pull out the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span> +snow-cake door and admit the beast. If he were +one of the Russians wolf-hounds—Pant drew +a short-bladed knife from his belt; an enemy’s +dog would be silenced with that.</p> +<p>With trembling fingers he gripped the white +door and drew it quickly away. The next +instant a furry monster leaped toward him.</p> +<p>It was a tense moment. In the flash of a second, +he could not determine the character of the +dog. His knife gleamed in his hand. To delay +was dangerous. The beast might, in a twinkle, +be at his throat.</p> +<p>He did not strike. With a supple motion he +sprang to one side as the dog shot past him. +By the time he had turned back toward the +entrance, Pant recognized him as a white man’s +dog.</p> +<p>“Well, howdy, old sport,” he exclaimed, as +the dog leaped upon him, ready to pull him to +pieces out of pure joy.</p> +<p>“Down, down, sir!”</p> +<p>The dog dropped at his feet. In another minute +the snow-door was in its place again. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span></p> +<p>“Well, old chap,” said Pant, peering at the +dog through his goggles. “You came to share +fortunes with me, did you? The little yellow +men had a tiger; I’ve got a dog. That’s better. +A tiger’d leave you; a dog never. Besides, old +top, you’ll tell me when there’s danger lurking +’round, won’t you? But tell me one thing now: +did anyone see you come in here?”</p> +<p>The dog beat the damp floor with his tail.</p> +<p>“Well, if they did, it’s going to be mighty +tough for you and me, that’s all I’ve got to say +about it.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>Upon opening the door to the cabin of the balloon, +after catching the gleam of the supposed +domes of the City of Gold, Dave Tower found, +to his great relief, that they had dropped to a +considerably lower level than that reached by +them many hours before. He was able to stand +exposure to this outer air.</p> +<p>He began at once to search for cords which +would allow gas to escape from the balloon.</p> +<p>“Should be a valve-cord and a rip-cord somewhere,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span> +he muttered to himself, “but you can +never tell what these Orientals are going to do +about such things.”</p> +<p>As he gazed away toward the north, he was +sure he caught sight of dark purple patches +between the white.</p> +<p>“Might just be shadows and might be pools +of salt water between the ice-floes. If we land +on the ocean, good night!”</p> +<p>Hurriedly he searched the rigging for dangling +cords. He found none. If there had been +any, they had been thrown up and tangled above +by the tossing of the balloon.</p> +<p>Dave stared dizzily upward to where the +giant sausage drifted silently on. It was a sheer +fifty feet. To reach this there was but one +means, a slender ladder of rope. Could he do it? +Could he climb to the balloon and slit it before +they reached the ocean?</p> +<p>It was their only chance. If the City of Gold +was not a complete illusion; if human beings +lived there at all, they might hope for food and +shelter. There were chemicals in the cabin for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span> +re-inflating the balloon. A fair wind, or the discovery +of the method of operating that Oriental +engine, might insure them a safe voyage home. +But once they were out over the ocean—his +heart went sick at the thought of it.</p> +<p>Gripping the rounds of the ladder, he began +to climb. It was a perilous task. Now with a +sinking sensation he felt the ladder apparently +drop from beneath him. The balloon had struck +a pocket of air. And now he felt himself lifted +straight up a fleeting hundred feet.</p> +<p>Holding his breath, he waited. Then, when +the motion was stable, he began to climb again. +He had covered two-thirds of the distance, was +staring up at the bulk that now seemed almost +upon his very head, when, with a little cry, he +felt his foot crash through a rotten strand. It +was a second of dreadful suspense. Madly he +grasped the rope sides of the ladder. His left +hand slipped, but his right held firm. There, +for a fraction of time that seemed an eternity, +supported by only one hand, he hung out over +thousands of feet of airy space. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span></p> +<p>His left hand groped for the ropes which +eluded his grasp. He gripped and missed, +gripped and missed. Then he caught it and +held on. He was holding firmly now with both +hands. But how his arms ached! With his +feet he began kicking for the ladder, which, +swinging and bagging in the wind, seemed as +elusive as a cobweb. At last, when strength +was leaving him, he doubled up his knees and +struck out with both feet. They fell upon +something and stuck there. They had found +a round of the ladder. Hugging the ropes, +he panted for breath, then slowly worked himself +to a more natural position.</p> +<p>“Huh!” he breathed at last. “Huh! Gee! +That makes a fellow dizzy!”</p> +<p>He had climbed ten steps further when a cry +of joy escaped his lips:</p> +<p>“The valve-cord!”</p> +<p>It was true. By his side dangled a small rope +which reached to the balloon.</p> +<p>Gripping this he gave it a quick pull and was +rewarded at once by the hiss of escaping gas. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span></p> +<p>“Good!” he muttered to himself, as he prepared +for his downward climb. “Trust an +Oriental to make things hard. Suppose they +thought if they had it any closer to the car the +children might raise the dickens by playing +with it.”</p> +<p>He swung there relaxed. They were dropping. +He could tell that plainly enough. Now +he could distinguish little lines of hills, now +catch the course of a river, now detect the rows +of brown willows that lined its banks.</p> +<p>He looked for the gleam of the City of Gold. +There was none. The sun had evidently climbed +too high for that.</p> +<p>His eyes roamed to the north. Then his lips +uttered a cry:</p> +<p>“The ocean! We can’t escape it!”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XII_THE_RUSSIAN_DAGGER' id='XII_THE_RUSSIAN_DAGGER'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<h3>THE RUSSIAN DAGGER</h3> +</div> + +<p>Johnny Thompson, with his interpreter by his +side, found himself in the camp of the Mongols. +It was a vast tented city, a moving city +of traders. Down its snow-trod streets drifted +yellow people of all descriptions. Men, women +and children moved past him. Some were +young, some very old. All appeared crafty and +capable of treachery.</p> +<p>“It was against these people that the Chinese +built their great wall,” said Johnny thoughtfully. +“I don’t wonder.”</p> +<p>“When do we see his highness, the great high +chief who deals in cattle?”</p> +<p>His interpreter smiled. “I have just come +from there. We may go to see him now.”</p> +<p>Johnny twisted one shoulder as if adjusting +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span> +a heavy burden, then turned to follow the +interpreter.</p> +<p>He did not like the looks of things; he longed +to be safely back in Vladivostok with Mazie. +There were times like this when he wished he +had not taken it upon himself to play the fairy +godfather to Russia’s starving hosts. But since +he had undertaken the task, however difficult it +might prove, he must carry on.</p> +<p>He soon found himself sitting cross-legged on +a floor so deeply imbedded in soft, yielding skins +that he sank half out of sight beneath them. +Before him, also reposing in this sea of softness, +was a Mongol of unusual size, whose face +was long and solemn. He puffed incessantly at +a long-stemmed Russian pipe.</p> +<p>Forming the third corner of the triangle, was +the little interpreter.</p> +<p>The two members of the yellow race conversed +in low tones for some time. At last the +interpreter turned to Johnny:</p> +<p>“I have told him that you want to buy cattle, +much cattle. He say, how much you want +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span> +to pay? How you want to pay? How much +you want to buy?”</p> +<p>“You tell him that I saw six of his cattle out +here just now. They are very poor. But we +will take them—maybe. Ask him how much?”</p> +<p>“He say, have you got gold?”</p> +<p>“You say,” grinned Johnny, “that we have +got gold. We don’t need a button-hook to button +up our purse, but we’ve got gold. We pay +gold. How much?”</p> +<p>The interpreter puckered up his brow and +conveyed the message. The Mongol mumbled +an answer.</p> +<p>“He say, how much you want pay?”</p> +<p>“Tell him for six cattle I pay one pound gold. +All same.”</p> +<p>He drew from his pocket a small leather sack, +and unlacing the strings held it open before the +Mongol.</p> +<p>The crafty eyes of the trader half closed at +sight of the glistening treasure. His greedy +fingers ran through it again and again. Then +he grunted. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span></p> +<p>“He say,” droned the interpreter, “how much +cattle you want to buy?”</p> +<p>“Maybe three hundred,” stated Johnny casually.</p> +<p>The interpreter started, but delivered the +message.</p> +<p>The Mongol, upon receiving this word, sprang +from the furs like a jack from his box and hot +words rushed rapidly from his lips.</p> +<p>When he had finished, the interpreter +explained that he said Johnny was jesting with +him. It was impossible that anyone would buy +three hundred head of cattle with gold in the +starving land of Russia.</p> +<p>The Mongol sank back to his place among the +furs, and the bickering was continued. For two +hours it waged, ending finally by the promise +of the Mongol that, in the morning, the cattle +should be at hand; that they would be better +than those Johnny had seen; and that Johnny’s +“beggarly” price of one pound of gold for six +cattle would be accepted.</p> +<p>Once the bargaining was over, the Mongol +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span> +was transformed in a second’s time into the +most charming of hosts. Johnny and his +interpreter must dine with him. Yes, indeed! +They must sleep in his tent that night. They +should talk long and of many things. It was not +often that he had the honor of playing host to +such a rich and clever guest. Indeed, it was not. +But they should not converse so long together +that Johnny and his most excellent interpreter +should be robbed of their night’s repose.</p> +<p>Several hours later, Johnny was buried to the +point of smothering beneath rugs of fur that +would bring the price of a king’s ransom. His +mind was still in a whirl. Perhaps it was the +tea, perhaps the excitement of big business, and +again, it may have been a premonition of things +to happen. Whatever it may have been, he could +not sleep.</p> +<p>His racing mind whispered to him of treachery +out of the night. It had been a wonderful +evening. They had been treated to a feast such +as he had seldom dreamed of. Surely these +Mongols could concoct from beef, rice, sweet +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span> +potatoes and spices the most wonderful of +viands. And, as for tea, he had never tasted +real tea before. The aroma of it still haunted +his nostrils.</p> +<p>And the Mongol had told him many things. +He had traveled far, had this trader; he had seen +much. He spoke of Russia, of China, Japan +and India. He told of matters that made +Johnny’s blood run cold, of deeds done in that +border-land between great countries, each seething +with revolution and bloodshed. Not that he, +the Mongolian, had done these things, but he had +seen them accomplished. And he had traded +for the spoils, the spoils of rich Russians driven +from their own land and seeking refuge in +another. He was a trader. It was his business. +He must have profit. What should one +do? If he did not take the riches, another +would. But as for committing these deeds himself, +Confucius forbid it; he had scowled to +show his disapproval.</p> +<p>At the same time, as Johnny thought it all +through, and felt the hard lumps about him that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span> +were sacks of gold, he found it very difficult to +fall asleep.</p> +<p>His interpreter, lying not an arm’s length +away, breathed with the steady ease of one in +deep slumber. The Mongol had drawn a curtain +of ermine skins between them and his own +bed. Could it be that this interpreter had made +his way into the good graces of Mazie only to +turn murderer and robber at the proper time? +Johnny had only Mazie’s word that the person +could be trusted, and Mazie was but a girl, not +accustomed to the deep-seated treachery in the +oriental mind.</p> +<p>He had traveled far that day; he had talked +long and dined well; he was a healthy human +being; and sleep came at last.</p> +<p>How long he had slept, he did not know when +he was awakened by an indescribable sensation. +Had he heard something, felt something? He +could not tell. He breathed on, the steady deep +breath of a sleeper, and did not stir, but he +opened an eye a mere crack. A shadow stretched +across him. It was made by a person who stood +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span> +between him and an oriental lamp which flickered +dimly in the corner. His eye sought the +place where the interpreter lay. The skins were +too deep there and he could not tell whether he +was there or not.</p> +<p>The shadow shifted. The person was moving +into view. He could see him now. He was +short and brown of face.</p> +<p>“The interpreter!” These words formed +themselves on his lips, but were not spoken.</p> +<p>The next second he knew it was not the interpreter, +for there came a stir at his side as the +interpreter sat up.</p> +<p>So there were two of them. Treachery! Well, +he should not die alone. His hand gripped the +cold steel of his automatic. He tilted it ever +so slightly. Fired from where it lay, it would +send a bullet crashing through the crouching +interpreter’s chest. He was about to pull the +trigger when something arrested his attention.</p> +<p>A blade gleamed in the hand of the interpreter. +Even in this darkness, he recognized +the weapon as one he had taken from a would-be +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span> +murderer, a Russian Chukche. He had given it +to a very good friend, a Japanese lady—Cio-Cio-San!</p> +<p>A cold chill ran down his spine. Had he come +near killing a friend? Was this one crouching +in the act of defending him against an enemy? +Cold perspiration stood out upon his brow. He +made a tremendous effort to continue breathing +evenly. He could only take a desperate +chance and await the turn of events.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>Hardly had Dave Tower discovered the +imminent peril of drifting out over the ice-packed +sea, than a ray of hope came to him. +Scattered along the mainland of this vast continent +there was, here and there, an island. +Should they be so fortunate as to drift upon +one of these, they might be saved.</p> +<p>Hurriedly climbing down from his perilous +perch, he hastened to inform Jarvis of their +position.</p> +<p>“Blind my eyes!” exclaimed Jarvis. “Wot +don’t ’appen to us ain’t worth ‘appenin’.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span></p> +<p>Then Dave told him of his hope that there +might be an island ahead.</p> +<p>“I ’opes so,” said Jarvis, as he seized a glass +and rushed outside to scan the broken surface +of the sea.</p> +<p>In the meantime, the balloon was sinking +rapidly. It was only a matter of time until the +cabin would bump upon an ice-pile. Then it was +doubtful if even the quickest action could save +their lives.</p> +<p>They brought the stranger, who was now +able to sit up and stare about him, to the outer +deck. He gazed down at the swaying, flying +landscape and was badly frightened when he +discovered that they were in midair, but Dave +reassured him, while Jarvis brought sleeping-bags +and boxes of food to a position by the rail.</p> +<p>“If the worst ’appens, we’ll at least h’eat and +sleep on the floe until it ’eaps up an’ buries us,” +he grumbled.</p> +<p>“Land ahead!” exclaimed Dave suddenly, +throwing down his glasses and rushing inside +the cabin. He was out again in a moment, bearing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span> +on his shoulder a coil of steel cable, and +dragging a heavy land anchor after him.</p> +<p>“We may be able to save the old boat yet,” he +yelled excitedly. “Jarvis, bring out the rope +ladder.”</p> +<p>Jarvis hastened inside and reappeared almost +immediately with the ladder.</p> +<p>“It’s an island,” said Dave, “and, as far as I +can judge, we’re only two or three hundred feet +from its surface when we get above it. We’ll +throw over the anchor and if it catches somewhere, +we’ll go down the ladder. In time the +balloon will lose gas enough to bring her to +earth.”</p> +<p>“You ’ave a good ’ead, me lad,” approved +Jarvis. “’Ere’s ‘opin’ it ’appens that way!”</p> +<p>It did happen that way, and, in due course of +time, the three men found themselves on the +brow of a low plateau which seemed as deserted +as the pyramids of Egypt, and quite as barren +of life.</p> +<p>“One thing’s sure,” said Dave. “We’ve got +to get the gas back into that old cloth tank and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span> +catch a fair wind, or get that engine to working, +if we don’t wish to starve.”</p> +<p>“Aye,” said Jarvis.</p> +<p>“There’s a strange pile of rocks up on the +ledge there. I’m going for a look at it,” said +Dave.</p> +<p>He returned in a few moments, mingled +excitement and amusement on his face.</p> +<p>“Jarvis,” he smiled happily, “we’re not so +badly off, after all. Here we are right back in +old United States of America!”</p> +<p>“United States?” Jarvis stared.</p> +<p>“Says so in this message I found in a brass +can. Says—”</p> +<p>Dave broke off suddenly. Something on the +crest to the right of them had caught his attention. +Grasping his automatic, Dave went skulking +away in the shadow of the hill.</p> +<p>Jarvis, too, had seen it and awaited the outcome +of this venture with eager expectancy.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIII_CIOCIOSAN' id='XIII_CIOCIOSAN'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> +<h3>CIO-CIO-SAN</h3> +</div> + +<p>Hardly had Johnny Thompson’s finger lessened +its pressure on the trigger of his automatic, +than the interpreter sprang straight at +the figure that cast the shadow.</p> +<p>A scream rent the air.</p> +<p>With a spring, Johnny was on his feet, just +in time to see one of the figures drop. In the +dim light he could not tell which one. He stood +there motionless. It had all happened so quickly +that he was stunned into inactivity.</p> +<p>In that brief moment bedlam broke loose. The +Mongol chief sprang from behind his curtain. +Other Mongols, deserting all night games of +chance, came swarming in on all sides. Their +jargon was unintelligible. Johnny could not tell +them what had happened, even had he rightly +known. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span></p> +<p>The fallen man was dragged out upon the +snow, where his blood made a rapidly spreading +dark circle on the crystal whiteness. He was +dead beyond a doubt.</p> +<p>Slowly the group settled in a dense ring about +some one who was talking rapidly. Evidently +the survivor of the tragedy was explaining. Was +it the interpreter or the other? Johnny could +not crowd close enough to tell.</p> +<p>He flashed his electric torch upon the fallen +body. The sight of the hilt protruding from the +chest, over the heart, gave Johnny a start. His +interpreter had won. It was his knife that had +made the fatal thrust. The dead man was +undoubtedly Oriental and not a member of the +Mongolian tribe.</p> +<p>That knife! Johnny started. How had this +person come into possession of that blade which +he had given to Cio-Cio-San? That Cio-Cio-San +would not give it away, he was certain. What +then had happened? Had it been stolen from +her, or was this strange interpreter, who had +doubtless just now saved his life, Cio-Cio-San +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span> +herself? It seemed unbelievable, yet his mind +clung to the theory. He would soon know.</p> +<p>Slowly the crowd dispersed. The killing of +an Oriental in such a camp as this was merely +an incident in the life of the tribe, a thing soon +to be forgotten. Two servants of the chief +bore the body away. Once more Johnny found +himself sitting in the triangle with his interpreter +and the Mongol. In his hands he held +two knives; one he had drawn from the heart +of the dead man and had cleansed in the snow; +the other was the one dropped by the murderer. +This last one evidently had been meant for him.</p> +<p>The Mongol was profuse in his apologies, +while he lauded to the sky the bravery of the +little interpreter. The slain man, he explained, +was no member of his company. He was one +of three who had camped on the outer edge of +the village that very night. Doubtless they had +followed Johnny with the purpose of murdering +and robbing him. He had sent at once for the +other two men, but they had fled. He hoped +now that his guests might sleep in peace. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span></p> +<p>After delivering this message, he bowed himself +back through the curtains. Johnny and the +interpreter were left alone. It was a dramatic +moment. The interpreter’s fingers twitched +nervously. Once the brown eyes fell upon the +knives Johnny held, but instantly they flashed +away. Johnny had drawn a freshly lighted +fish-oil lamp to his side.</p> +<p>“Friend,” said he in a low tone, “you have +done me a great service this night. Will you do +me but one more?”</p> +<p>“Gladly, most gracious one.”</p> +<p>The small head bent low.</p> +<p>“Allow me.” Johnny took one of the brown +hands, and began rolling up the loose sleeve of +the brown-skin parka. The brown face blanched +a trifle. He uncovered a sleeve of pink silk, and +beneath that a slender brown arm. On the arm, +a finger’s length beneath the elbow, was a triangular +scar.</p> +<p>Johnny sighed, then carefully rolling down +the sleeve, dropped the hand.</p> +<p>“It is enough,” he smiled, “you are my old +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span> +and very dear friend, Cio-Cio-San. You have +to-night added greatly to the debt of gratitude +which I owe you and can never repay. But why +did you come? And why, most of all, are you in +disguise? Why are you in Russia at all? Why +not in your beloved Japan?”</p> +<p>Cio-Cio-San sighed as if relieved at feeling +the mask removed.</p> +<p>“I came to Russia to find a very dear relative +who had lived with my family in the interior +of Russia before this revolution came upon us. +I met Mazie; your so good friend. She pressed +me into her service. Who could refuse? I was +glad to be of help.</p> +<p>“Then, because there was no Japanese man +who could speak for you to the Mongols, she +asked me to go. And, because it is unsafe for +a woman to go on such a journey, undisguised, +I dressed as a man. So, there you have it all. +I am glad you know, you are a man of great +honor. You will not tell others. You will protect +me from them.” There was no question in +her voice. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span></p> +<p>Johnny put out his hand in silence. Her small +brown one rested in his for a moment.</p> +<p>Then in drowsy silence they sat by the sputtering +lamp until the tinkle of bell, the clatter +of harness, the shout of drivers, and the distant +lowing of cattle, told them it was another day.</p> +<p>That day’s business was quickly brought to a +close. Before the sun was high in the heavens, +Johnny found himself once more tucked beside +his interpreter in the cutter, slowly following his +Russians, who drove a splendid herd of cattle +over the snow-clad fields and hard-packed roads +toward Vladivostok. Johnny owned that herd. +Soon it would be supplying nourishment to the +hungry little ones.</p> +<p>The return journey was crowded with recollections +of other days, of those days when he +and Cio-Cio-San had followed the glistening +trail to the far Northland. But, as the spires +of the cathedral in the city loomed up to greet +him, Johnny’s mind was filled with many wonderings +and not a few misgivings. He was coming +to the city of eastern Russia which more +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span> +than any other had seen revolt and counter-revolt, +pillage and sudden death. In that city +now, starvation and disease stalked unmolested. +In that city, the wary Japanese military police +maintained order while many a rampant radical +lurked in a corner to slay any who did not +believe in his gospel of unlimited freedom and +license. Into that city Johnny must go. Every +man in it craved gold and food, and Johnny had +both. He would use it for the good of the sufferers, +if he was given time. But those who rob +and kill, do not wait. He was troubled about +Mazie. He had trusted gold to her care. Had +he acted unwisely; subjected her to needless +perils?</p> +<p>He thought of the Oriental who had attempted +to take his life back there in the Mongol’s +camp. There had been a strong resemblance +between this man and the band of men who had +attempted to rob Mine No. 1. Had they secured +reindeer and made their way to Vladivostok? If +so, they would dog his trail, using every foul +means to regain possession of the gold. And +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span> +Mazie? If they had entered the city, had they +discovered that part of the gold was in her +hands? He shivered at the thought of it.</p> +<p>At last, leaving the cattle in a great yard, +surrounded by a stone fence, some five miles +from the outskirts, he drove hurriedly into +Vladivostok.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIV_NEARING_THE_CITY_OF_GOLD' id='XIV_NEARING_THE_CITY_OF_GOLD'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +<h3>NEARING THE CITY OF GOLD</h3> +</div> + +<p>The creature for which Dave had gone on a +double-quick hunt, after the balloon had landed +on the desert island, was a reindeer. He had +probably crossed over on a solid floe from the +mainland. It was his last crossing. Soon Dave +came back dragging two hundred pounds of +fresh meat behind him.</p> +<p>“No more ‘gold fish’ in cans,” he exulted. +“No more evaporated milk and pickled egg. +We eat, Jarvis, we eat!”</p> +<p>“That’s fine,” smiled Jarvis, “but what’s all +the words you been spillin’ about this bein’ +America?”</p> +<p>“Oh!” laughed Dave. “That was something +of a joke, though this island really does +belong to old U.S.A. Captain DeLong, an +American, whose ship was crushed in the ice +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span> +near this island, was its first discoverer. He +claimed it in the name of his country and christened +it Bennett Island. It says that in the message +he left in his cairn. But that don’t feed us. +I’m starved. There’s driftwood on the beach. +C’mon.”</p> +<p>Soon they were roasting strips of delicious +venison over a crackling fire. Supper over, they +lay down with faces to the fire and talked over +prospects for the future. The stranger was +with them, but had little to say. He seemed +puzzled at the unusual circumstances of the +journey and was constantly asking when they +would return to the native village at the mouth +of the river.</p> +<p>“Evidently,” said Dave, after a long and +fruitless attempt to draw from him any account +of his life with the Orientals in the mine, “the +rap he received on his head blotted out all memory +of those days. If we can’t get that particular +stretch of memory in working order, we +may never know how Frank Langlois was killed, +nor who it was that sent us strange messages +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span> +on phonographic records and moving-picture +films. I’m hoping his memory’ll come back. A +sudden shock may bring it round at any time.”</p> +<p>Their conference regarding the future +resulted in a determination to wait for a change +of wind which would insure them a safe trip to +the mainland. In the meantime, Dave would +prepare the chemicals for immediate inflation of +the balloon and Jarvis would study over the Japanese +puzzle of a gasoline engine which would +not respond to his touch.</p> +<p>Jarvis’ work netted nothing. Three days +later an onshore wind arose, and the balloon, +wafted upward on its gentle crest, brought the +explorers back to the mainland.</p> +<p>“Land! Land! And the City of Gold!” +exclaimed Jarvis, as the evening clouds lifted +and gave them a momentary view of that +strange golden gleam which for so long had +haunted their dreams.</p> +<p>Once before, many months ago, the two of +them had neared the spot on an ocean craft, +but duty to marooned comrades had called them +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span> +back. Now they had only themselves to think +of, and the City of Gold, if city it be, would +offer to them a haven of refuge.</p> +<p>What wonder that their hearts beat wildly +as they caught its gleam and realized that in +a very few moments they would be landing +within a quarter of a mile of that mysterious +city, which, according to the natives whom they +had met long ago, did really exist as a place of +many people and much gold.</p> +<p>“Pull the cord! Pull the cord!” shouted +Jarvis excitedly. “We’re nearin’ shore.”</p> +<p>He had spoken the truth. As Dave gripped +the cord attached to the gas valve on the balloon +and in his imagination heard the hiss of +escaping gas and felt the drop of the balloon, +his thoughts sobered. After all, what did they +know about these strange people? What sort +of treatment would they receive from them? +If they landed they might, in less than an hour, +be dead. Might it not be better to allow the +balloon to rise and to attempt a journey back +to some Russian town? But instantly he realized +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168' name='page_168'></a>168</span> +that this gale which was coming would +carry them to the heart of Bolsheviki Russia. +What chance would they have there?</p> +<p>“Pull the cord! Pull the cord!” insisted +Jarvis.</p> +<p>Mechanically, Dave’s hand came down. The +hiss of air was followed by the sagging drop +of the car. The die had been cast.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>For an hour, after admitting the white man’s +dog to his secret mine, Pant sat listening for +any sound that might tell of his discovery. +After this, heaving a sigh of relief, he turned +at once to the work that lay before him. He +realized that whatever he did must be done soon.</p> +<p>Dragging the newly acquired batteries back +to where the others were lined up along the +wall, he attached one of them to the circuit, +then threw in the switch which should set the +buzz-saw mining machine into operation. An +angry spit and flare was his only reward.</p> +<p>Nothing daunted, he cut in another battery, +then another. As he touched the switch after +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span> +attaching the third battery, a loud whirring +sound rewarded him.</p> +<p>“Eureka! I have found it!” he cried, leaping +high in air. “Now we win!”</p> +<p>The dog barked loudly at this singular demonstration, +but since the vault-like mine was sound +proof, it mattered little how noisy was his +rejoicing.</p> +<p>The cutting machine was instantly set in +operation. The sing of the wheel against the +frozen earth was deafening. The earth-tremble, +started by the machinery, could not fail +to make itself felt outside the mine. But when +he realized that only the yellow men knew the +cause of such a tremble and that they were many +miles from that spot, making their way south +with dog team or reindeer, Pant had little fear. +He would find his way to the mother-lode, +would melt snow from the inside of the bank by +the mine’s entrance, would wash out the gold; +then, if only he could evade the Russians and +the Chukches, he would begin the southward +journey. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span></p> +<p>Hour by hour, the stacks of dark brown cubes +of frozen pay dirt grew at the sides of the mine. +Hour by hour, the yellow glistened more brightly +in the cubes. Yet he did not come to the mother-lode. +He slept but little, taking short snatches +now and then. Sometimes he fell asleep at his +task. One thing began to worry him; the gasoline +was running short. With no gasoline to +run his motor, there could be no electric current, +no power.</p> +<p>Now and again he fancied that men were +prowling about the snow-blocked entrance. He +knew these were only fancies. Sleepless days +and nights were telling on his nerves. When +would the rich pay come?</p> +<p>At last, while half asleep, he worked on the +upper tiers of cubes, there came a jarring rattle +which brought him up standing. The wheel had +struck solid rock. This meant that there was +a ledge, a former miniature fall in the river +bed. At the foot of this fall, there would be a +pocket, and in that pocket, much gold. The +gasoline? There was yet enough. To-morrow +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span> +he would clean up the mother-lode. Then he +would be away.</p> +<p>He stumbled, as in a dream, to his blankets, +and, wrapping them about him, fell into a +stupor that was sleep and more.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>As the balloon, in which Dave Tower and +Jarvis rode, drifted toward the shore of the +mainland, Dave, shading his eyes, watched the +yellow gleam of the City of Gold darken to a +purplish black, then back to a dull gray.</p> +<p>“Man, it’s gone. I ’ates to look,” groaned +Jarvis. “It’s gone, the City of Gold.”</p> +<p>Dave had been expecting something like this +to happen. “Probably the surface of some +gigantic rock, polished by wind and rain, reflecting +the rays of the sun,” was his mental comment. +He did not have the heart to express +his thoughts to Jarvis.</p> +<p>They drifted on. Suddenly Dave dived into +the cabin and returned with a pair of powerful +binoculars. He turned these on the spot where +the shining City of Gold had been. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span></p> +<p>What he saw brought an exclamation to his +lips. It died there unuttered. “After all,” he +thought to himself, “it may be nothing, just +nothing at all.”</p> +<p>What he had seen was still brownish gray in +color, but instead of the flat even surface of a +rock broken here and there by irregular fissures, +he had seen innumerable squares, placed as +regularly as the roofs of a house. “Nature +does not build that way. Man must have had +a hand in it. Here’s hoping.” Such were his +mental comments as he saw land rise up to meet +them. Were they nearing an inhabited land?</p> +<p>He did not have long to wait for the answer. +As the balloon drifted in over the land, figures +ran across the snow, in evident pursuit of the +drifting “sausage.”</p> +<p>Jarvis, who had taken the glass, let out a +roar. “It’s ’uman’s, me lad, ’uman bein’s it is, +and if it’s no one but the bloody, bloomin’ +’eathen, I’ll be glad to see ’em.”</p> +<p>He was right. As the anchor, catching in a +claybank, jerked the balloon to a sudden halt, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span> +they could see the people racing toward the point +where the car was sure to land.</p> +<p>Dave’s mind was in a whirl. First his right +hand gripped his automatic, next it hung limp +at his side. What manner of people were they, +anyway? If that broad flat surface of little +squares meant the roof of a building, then these +certainly were not natives, Chukches or Eskimos. +Those always lived in houses of deer skin or +snow. And, if it was a house, what an immense +thing it must be. A hundred feet long, perhaps +two hundred, and half as wide.</p> +<p>There was little time for speculation. The +balloon carriage dropped rapidly. Their daft +professor hung to the rail, babbling incoherent +things about returning to the mouth of the +Anadir. Jarvis was silent. Evidently there +was but one thing to do; to trust themselves to +the tender mercies of these people.</p> +<p>As the cabin bumped the snowy tundra, Dave +sprang over the rail, followed by Jarvis, who +assisted the still feeble professor.</p> +<p>They found themselves at once in the midst of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span> +a curious-eyed group of people. These, with +their long beards and droll clothing and droll +manners, made Dave feel as if he were another +Rip Van Winkle entering a land of dreams.</p> +<p>In the crowd there were some twenty men, +slowly straggling in. There was a woman of +middle age, and beside her a girl of about sixteen +years, evidently her daughter. Dave’s +eyes approved of the girl, and though she +was a stranger to his tongue, she did not fail +to find an immediate means of letting him know +that she looked upon him with much favor.</p> +<p>All these people were dressed in skins, fawn +skins for the most part, though there were +occasional garments of leather. The garments +were not cut at all after the manner of Chukches +or Eskimos. The girl wore a skirt and a +loose middy-like jacket of white buckskin, the +skin of which had been split thin. The garments +suited her wonderfully well.</p> +<p>Dave had concluded, before one of them +spoke, that they were Russians. When the oldest +man of the group attempted to address him, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span> +he knew his guess to be correct, though he +understood not one word of what was being +said.</p> +<p>“But what,” he asked himself, “are these +people doing here so far within the Arctic Circle, +and how do they live?”</p> +<p>Having made it evident that he did not +understand their language, he awaited further +attempts at conversation. Other languages were +tried with no success, until a man of thirty years +or past suddenly said:</p> +<p>“Do you speak English?”</p> +<p>Dave could have wept on his shoulders for +pure joy. What he did do was to extend his +hand with a hearty, “Put her there, old chap, +that’s just what I do!”</p> +<p>“You must be hungry,” said the new-found +friend.</p> +<p>“We could eat,” admitted Dave.</p> +<p>“Come this way.”</p> +<p>Having made sure that the balloon was in a +safe position, Dave and Jarvis, assisting the +professor, followed their host round a point of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span> +rock and up to a row of cabins on the southern +side of the hill. Having entered one of these, +they were invited to sit down while the professor +was helped to a room in the rear and tucked +into bed.</p> +<p>“Now, gentlemen,” said the stranger, “we +can offer you only venison and fresh sweet +potatoes for your main course. You will perhaps +not mind that. But in the matter of +salads, we can give you a little choice. Will you +have head lettuce or sliced cucumbers?” He +smiled genially.</p> +<p>Dave looked at Jarvis; Jarvis stared at Dave. +Was this man jesting? Head lettuce and cucumbers +in mid-winter, inside the Arctic Circle? +What a rank impossibility! Yet the man did +not smile.</p> +<p>“Mine’s ’ead lettuce an’ a little whale blubber,” +laughed Jarvis.</p> +<p>“And yours?” smiled the host, turning to +Dave.</p> +<p>“S-s-same,” stammered Dave,</p> +<p>“’E’s a jolly sport,” sighed Jarvis, as the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span> +man went out. “Next ’e’ll offer strawberries +for dessert.”</p> +<p>Imagine their utter astonishment when the +man returned presently with a wooden tray +heavily laden with food, and on it, not only two +heaping wooden bowls of head lettuce, but two +smaller bowls of luscious red strawberries, and +beside each of these, a little wooden pitcher of +rich cream.</p> +<p>“Sorry we have to offer our food in such +plain dishes,” smiled the host. “We have +experimented with pottery but have had no +success as yet.” He bowed himself out of the +room.</p> +<p>“Dave, old pal,” said Jarvis, “don’t move, +don’t speak to me. Don’t wake me up. I’m +’aving such a beautiful dream.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XV_TRAPPED' id='XV_TRAPPED'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> +<h3>TRAPPED</h3> +</div> + +<p>The day following his locating of the mother-lode, +Pant worked feverishly. Hardly four +hours had passed when he found himself digging +away the heart of the snowbank that +blocked the entrance to his cave and melting +it that he might wash the pans of rich gold that +were now being thawed from the cavity beneath +the one-time river falls.</p> +<p>“Going to be a rich haul,” he whispered to +his dog, “richer than Mine No. 2, not so rich +as No. 1, but rich enough all right. And if +we can make our getaway, Oh, boy!”</p> +<p>Only one thing troubled him as he worked. +Not having been outside at the time the blizzard +was piling snow about the entrance to the cave, +he could not tell the exact depth of the snowbank; +could not be sure that he was not removing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span> +too much of the snow and leaving too thin +a crust above.</p> +<p>This did not worry him greatly, however. +The hard-packed snow would not crumble in +easily. So he cut away at it until there was a +hollow space at the mine’s entrance twenty feet +long and half as wide.</p> +<p>Meanwhile, he was panning the pay dirt and +putting it away in carefully sewed, split walrus-skin +sacks. At times, he paused to rub his hands +together like Midas, as he stowed away another +sack on the top of a small sled which was hidden +in a corner. On this sled were a sleeping-bag +and a little food. When their work was completed +and the gold all loaded on, he and the dog +would harness themselves to this sled and steal +out into the night. If they were successful in +evading the Bolsheviki, the natives, and the little +yellow men, they would hurry on to the south +where there was a reindeer station. There he +would barter his watch and other valuables for +two sled deer. He would hate parting with the +dog, but he could not take him with the reindeer. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span></p> +<p>The mine had been fairly stripped of its +wealth and the sled loaded down with gold, +when, as he drank his coffee, munched his hard +biscuit, and thought things through, he was +startled by a growl from the dog. The next +instant there came the dull thud of falling snow-crust, +followed by the jarring thump of a heavy +body. A startled expression uttered in Russian +brought Pant to his feet with his hand on his +automatic.</p> +<p>Realizing that one of the Russians had blundered +upon the snow above the entrance, that it +had caved in with him, and that the only chance +of safety was in “getting” that Russian before +he made his escape, he dashed down the mine. +An unfortunate step threw him to the floor. +This lost him the race. On reaching the spot, +he found the Russian had vanished.</p> +<p>“Well, old pal,” he said, addressing the dog, +“that means we gotta get out, and mighty quick, +too. That fellow’s not coming back alone. Bolsheviki’ll +be swarming up here like bees in less +time than it takes to tell it.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181' name='page_181'></a>181</span></p> +<p>He stood silent for a moment. Then he +sprang into action.</p> +<p>“I’ve got an idea!”</p> +<p>Seizing the long knife from a shelving rock at +the side of the entrance, he began cutting cubes +of snow from the bank. Working along the +edge of the rocky cliff, where the bank was +thickest, he soon had a side tunnel well started. +He worked with feverish haste. It was only a +matter of moments until the whole Bolshevik +band would be upon him. To come out into the +open was to invite death. To hide away in the +side cavity in the snow with his gold, to wait +until they had all entered the mine, then to burrow +his way out and make his escape, seemed +his only hope.</p> +<p>When he had tunneled into the bank ten or +twelve feet and hurriedly arranged some blocks +for closing the opening, he raced to the back +of the mine for his sled. He had just made a +grab for the draw-strap, when there came a +sound from the entrance.</p> +<p>He was trapped. They had come. His heart +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span> +skipped a few beats. How many there were, he +could not tell, but more than enough. He must +act and act quickly, and, even so, all seemed lost. +On one thing he was determined; he would not +abandon the gold save as a last resort.</p> +<p>The dog, exercising an almost human sagacity, +uttered not a single growl, but hung close +to his master’s side.</p> +<p>Exerting all his strength, the boy threw the +heavily laden sled upon his back; then, in a +crouching posture, he began making his way +toward the entrance. There was no light, yet +he made his way without a second’s hesitation, +round little piles of frozen earth and over heaps +of stone and gravel. Not a rock was loosed, not +a sound made by his soft, padded footsteps, as +he moved swiftly along the passage.</p> +<p>Now he was a quarter way to the entrance, +now half. No definite plan of action had entered +his mind. He knew only that, in some way, he +must make good his escape.</p> +<p>Suddenly a light flared. A match had been +struck. A bearded face flickered behind it in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span> +the shadows, then another and another. There +followed a steadier gleam of light.</p> +<p>“A candle!” the boy whispered in despair.</p> +<p>He shrank back into the deeper shadows. The +procession of grizzled giants moved forward +with caution. Soon they were twenty feet from +him and then only ten. It seemed inevitable +that he should be seen.</p> +<p>The moment for action had arrived. In his +right hand was a heavy lump of frozen pay dirt. +With a sure twist of the wrist he sent this crashing +into the candle. Amid the curses of the +men, the candle snuffed out. The next instant, +there came a thundering crash. Pant had overturned +a whole tier of pay dirt cubes.</p> +<p>In the midst of the confusion that followed, +he made his escape. Scorning his snow-den, in +which he was to have hidden, he scrambled out +of the main entrance and, with the sled shooting +on before him down the steep incline, headed +straight toward the ice-blocked ocean.</p> +<p>It was but a matter of moments until he +found himself effectually lost in the labyrinth +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184' name='page_184'></a>184</span> +of ice piles and up-ended cakes on that endless +expanse of ice that lined the shore.</p> +<p>Breathing more easily, he sat down upon his +sled, and, after digging into his scant food supply, +opened a can of frozen beans. These he +shared with his dog. Having eaten, he took +up his tireless march to Vladivostok.</p> +<p>These things had been happening to him +while his former companion, Johnny Thompson, +was threading his way through the ice floes to +Vladivostok. While Johnny was completing his +journey and making his trading trip to the wandering +city of Mongols, Pant was hurrying +southward. This passage was uneventful. It +so happened that, the very day on which Johnny +Thompson was about to re-enter this Russian +city of many dangers and mysteries after his +visit to the Mongols, Pant, coming from an +opposite direction, was also entering.</p> +<p>It will not, I am sure, seem strange that +Johnny at this very time found himself longing +for this companion and his protection. And, of +course, since Johnny was known to have gone +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span> +to Vladivostok, it will not seem strange that +Pant was wondering if he would be able to +locate him there.</p> +<p>You will observe that the “clan is gathering.” +The little band for a time so widely and strangely +separated are moving toward a common center, +Vladivostok. Pant and Johnny are at the city +gates. But Dave and Jarvis, far in the north, +are only hoping. If they can get the balloon +afloat and can manage the engine, Vladivostok +is to be the air-port of their dreams.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XVI_THE_CITY_OF_GOLD' id='XVI_THE_CITY_OF_GOLD'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> +<h3>THE CITY OF GOLD</h3> +</div> + +<p>The head lettuce, strawberries, and the cream +which Dave Tower and Jarvis saw before them +on the wooden tray in the cabin of the mysterious +Russian were part of no dream, but a +glorious reality. Their palates testified to that +fact in prompt order.</p> +<p>“But where’d they come from?” inquired +Dave, smacking his lips.</p> +<p>“Don’t ask,” grumbled Jarvis. “It’s enough +they’re ’ere.”</p> +<p>Dave did ask and he did receive a reply. +They had hardly finished their meal, when the +friendly stranger was at hand, ready to show +them the village.</p> +<p>The cabins they had seen were ordinary +affairs, built of driftwood. But as they rounded +a corner of rock, they were confronted by a very +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span> +different scene. Beyond them stretched the +broad, low roof of what appeared to be a vast +greenhouse. And indeed that was exactly what +it was. That another such greenhouse did not +exist anywhere in the world, they were soon to +learn.</p> +<p>“The Golden City,” murmured Jarvis.</p> +<p>“But the glass?” exclaimed Dave. “Where +did you get it?”</p> +<p>“Not a square inch of glass in it,” smiled +their host. “Come inside.”</p> +<p>Soon they breathed the peculiar, tropical +dampness that fills every greenhouse. All about +them were green things growing. To the right +of them, prodigious potato plants thrived in beds +of rich earth; to the left were beds of radishes, +head lettuce and onions. Over their heads, +suspended in cleverly woven baskets of leather, +huge cucumbers swung aloft, their vines casting +a greenish light over all. Far down the narrow +aisle, numerous varieties of plants and small +fruits were growing. Close beside them ran a +wall of stone, which, strangely enough, gave off +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span> +a mellow heat. Along the wall to the right ran +a stone trough, and, in this, a murmuring stream +of water went glittering by.</p> +<p>“Tell us the answer to this fable,” whispered +Dave. “We are all ears, oh Wise One!”</p> +<p>“There’s not much story to tell,” said the +host. “A political exile in northern Russia, +having been farmed out as a slave to a trader, +was carried with his master, against their +wishes, on the angry waters of the great Lena +River to the shores of the Arctic Sea. They +struggled along the seashore until they came to +this place, and here, for a time, they tarried.</p> +<p>“The exile was learned in many sciences. +He perceived at once the vast possibilities of +this place as a hostage for escaped exiles. A +warm spring, flowing winter and summer, +sprang from the rocky hillside; a ten-foot vein +of coal cropped out from that same hill. Limestone +rock promised material for plaster; an +extraordinary deposit of rock rich in mica +promised windows. Put your hand on the +window beside you.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span></p> +<p>“Mica,” murmured Dave, as he took his hand +away.</p> +<p>“Mica,” repeated his host. “All our windows +are double and made of mica.”</p> +<p>“Well, after facing many dangers, this exile +and his master made their way back to the land +in which the Czar and his nobles have condemned +many honest and good people to live as +slaves because of their beliefs. He went back +to dream and to tell of his dreams to his friends. +At first these doubted, but one by one they too +began to dream. From that they took to planning +and preparing. All manner of seeds were +gathered and hoarded. Clothing and food were +saved. One night, twenty-eight of them disappeared. +They have never returned; they are +here. This is the work of their hands. We +live, as you see, with all the material needs supplied. +We have a reindeer herd which supplies +us clothing, milk and meat. This greenhouse +gives us the rest.”</p> +<p>“You are Communists?” said Dave.</p> +<p>“We were Communists in theory, back in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span> +old Russia. Here we are Communists in +practice.”</p> +<p>“Why do you not go back to old Russia +now?”</p> +<p>“What? Leave this for exile?” The man’s +face showed his astonishment.</p> +<p>It was Dave’s turn to be surprised. Could it +be that this man and his companions did not +know that, for more than two years, the Communists +had been in power over the greater part +of old Russia?</p> +<p>“Don’t you know,” he said slowly, “that the +Czar is dead, that his government has been +overthrown, that the Communists hold sway +in your land and all exiles have been called +home?”</p> +<p>“What?” The man sank weakly to a seat, +covering his face with his hands.</p> +<p>“Why!” exclaimed Dave in astonishment. +“Why don’t you leap and shout for joy? Your +Communist theory has been put into practice.”</p> +<p>“And Russia? She must be in ruins!” He +groaned miserably. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span></p> +<p>“Not quite that bad,” smiled Dave, “though +God knows it has been bad enough.”</p> +<p>“Communism!” exclaimed the man springing +up. “Communism will never do. It drives +men to dry-rot. Here we have had Communism +at its very best, a group of friends, each doing +the best for the whole group at all times, but +we have not been happy. We have been of all +men the most miserable. Each one of us would +give a year of this for one week spent in honest +competition for a livelihood with other men.</p> +<p>“Competition! Competition! I cannot tell +how it is, but I know it to be a truth now; honest +competition is not only the life of trade, it +is the life of man and without it man will die +of inactivity which comes when interest dies.</p> +<p>“But my country, my poor Russia, my brave +Russia! She will yet see her error and build up +a government like your own, a free government +of the people, a government not without its +faults, but ever striving toward perfection. She +must do it!”</p> +<p>He sank back exhausted by this impassioned +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span> +utterance. For some time he did not move nor +speak. At last he roused himself.</p> +<p>“And now, my friend,” he said, “you in +your great balloon will take us somewhere, I +am sure.”</p> +<p>“If we can get our engine started,” said +Dave.</p> +<p>“We will help you.”</p> +<p>At that moment Jarvis, who had wandered +down the aisle, came storming back.</p> +<p>“’Oo’s the two ’eathen that just went out the +door?” he demanded.</p> +<p>“Just some natives that came here and wished +to stay,” smiled the Russian. “When they +came, they had been pretty badly torn up by a +polar bear. We nursed them back to life and +they have been so grateful for it that they have +never left.”</p> +<p>“Good reason!” stormed Jarvis. “Gold! +Gold! The City of Gold.”</p> +<p>“We have a little gold here,” smiled the Russian, +“but precious little good it’s ever been +to us.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span></p> +<p>“Now mind y’. I’m a tellin’ y’,” stormed +Jarvis, striking his fists together, “them’s no +natural ’eathen. Them’s two spies from far +down the coast. A polar bear me eye! An ice +anchor it was that cut ’alf a ear off’n the little +one. Them’s the lads that Dave and me ’ad +the tussle with on the submarine more’n a +year ago. I tell you they’re no natural ’eathen +an’ I ’ates to think what’ll ’appen to ’em if I +meets up with ’em again.”</p> +<p>Dave sprang to the door through which +the men had just passed. They were not to be +seen. The incident was disturbing. There +could be little doubt but that Jarvis had identified +the men as the same pair that had locked +them in a prison made of walrus tusks the year +before, and had fought with them later on the +submarine. Now if they had recognized Jarvis, +what might they not do? He continued to +think of this while the Russian showed them +through the most wonderful greenhouse in all +the world.</p> +<p>“You see,” said their host, “we built this +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194' name='page_194'></a>194</span> +against the side of the cliff, at the point where +the soft coal mine cropped out. We cut away +enough of the coal to make room for a great +stone furnace. From this furnace we ran heat +tunnels of stone through the entire greenhouse. +The work is all very simple. Coal is mined and +loaded on trucks of wood, run on wooden tracks. +From there it is shoveled into the furnace. We +ran stone troughs through the greenhouse connecting +them to the warm spring. This furnishes +water for use in our homes, and for +irrigating the rich soil we have brought from +the tundra. At the same time, it keeps the air +here sufficiently moist.”</p> +<p>“What a garden of Eden!” exclaimed Dave. +“And you would leave all its safety and comfort +to take a chance in the great disturbed world? +Why will you be so foolish?”</p> +<p>The man turned a look of compassion upon +him. “You will never know why, because you +have never known what it is to live without the +push and pull of many human beings striving +for mastery all about you. In a well-populated +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195' name='page_195'></a>195</span> +land, this would all be very wonderful. Here it +is nothing. Nothing!”</p> +<p>As he spoke, the man bent over and opened +a small box made of heavy driftwood.</p> +<p>Having peered into its depth for a second, he +uttered a sharp cry:</p> +<p>“The gold! It is gone!”</p> +<p>“Was there much?” asked Dave.</p> +<p>“Around a hundredweight. Who could have +taken it? Yesterday we would have given it +away for a song. To-day, with hopes of deliverance +at hand, it is indispensable. Who could +the robbers be?”</p> +<p>“The ’eathen, the unnatural, bloody, bloomin’ +’eathen,” exclaimed Jarvis. “Find them and +you find the gold.”</p> +<p>The “unnatural ’eathen” were not to be +found. Had the earth opened up and swallowed +them, they could not have more completely vanished +from the region of the City of Gold.</p> +<p>When a search far and wide had been made +for them, with no results, attention was turned +to the problem of a journey to other lands, for, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196' name='page_196'></a>196</span> +even robbed of their gold as they were, these +former exiles were eager to escape and to try their +hand at making a living in more populated lands.</p> +<p>Three days were spent in futile attempts to +start that oriental engine. When this was given +up, it was decided that they should inflate the +balloon, await a favorable wind and try their +fortunes at drifting back to the land whence +they came.</p> +<p>Not one of them but knew the perils of such +an undertaking. Should the wind shift, they +might be carried out over the sea. On the other +hand, they might be forced to make a landing +in the heart of the vast, barren lands, and in +that case, they must surely starve. The balloon +cabin would carry them all, but there would be +little room left for provisions.</p> +<p>Not one of them hesitated. Boldest of them +all was the beautiful girl who stuck close to +Dave’s side, watching his every move with big +admiring eyes, and, at spare times, learning to +speak bits of his language.</p> +<p>The balloon was at last inflated. Provisions +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197' name='page_197'></a>197</span> +were loaded. The wind was beginning to shift. +They would be off in a few hours. All were +expectant. A tense nervousness gripped them, +a sensation composed half of hope and half of +despair. They were eating the evening meal in +the common mess hall by the cliff when a sound +utterly strange to the Russian’s ears smote the +silent air. It was a thundering pop-pop-pop.</p> +<p>Dave turned white. Jarvis sprang to his feet +with a wild howl on his lips.</p> +<p>“The ’eathen! The bloody, bloomin’ ’eathen. +It’s the engine.”</p> +<p>He was right. It was the engine. It was +thundering out its wild song of power and +speed, and its voice was growing more distant.</p> +<p>As they crowded from the mess cabin, they +saw the balloon hanging in midair. Watching +they saw it move slowly southward. On the +bridge by the cabin stood two small figures.</p> +<p>“The ’eathen! The bloody, bloomin’ ’eathen!” +cried Jarvis.</p> +<p>“We might have known,” groaned Dave. +“They’re oriental and so is the engine.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XVII_KIDNAPPED' id='XVII_KIDNAPPED'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198' name='page_198'></a>198</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> +<h3>KIDNAPPED</h3> +</div> + +<p>On entering the city, after leaving his cattle +in safe keeping at the farmyard, Johnny Thompson +went directly to Red Cross headquarters to +inquire for Mazie.</p> +<p>“Mazie!” exclaimed the matron in amazement, +“we thought she went with you. We +have not seen her since you left.”</p> +<p>Johnny sank weakly into a chair. His head +whirled. Mazie gone for five days! What must +be her fate? In this city of opposing factions, +with its dens of radicals, thieves and murderers, +and, above all, the gang of “yellow men” from +the north, what chance could there be of ever +seeing her? Yet he would! At least he would +give his life in a search for her!</p> +<p>Hurriedly sketching to the nurse his plans +for the refuge for homeless ones and informing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199' name='page_199'></a>199</span> +her of the whereabouts of the cattle and the +remaining gold, he dashed from the room. +Armed with his automatic, he went at once to +the heart of the most treachery-ridden city in +the world. Where was he to search for her? +He had not the remotest notion. Suddenly, +thinking of the telegrams she meant to send to +Hong Kong ordering rice and sweet potatoes +and of the visit she had meant to make to the +owner of the unoccupied hotel, he decided to +attempt to trace her steps at these places.</p> +<p>At the telephone station, the agent, referring +to his reports, established the fact that she had +sent the telegrams. At the office of the owner +of the hotel she was unknown. No American +woman had been to him to rent the hotel. That +much then was settled; somewhere between the +telegraph office and the hotel owner’s place of +business she had been spirited away.</p> +<p>Johnny began tracing out the course she +would probably have taken. A narrow side +street offered a short cut. Being familiar with +the city and in a hurry, she would take that. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200' name='page_200'></a>200</span> +Half way down this street, Johnny came upon +a familiar door. It was that of Wo Cheng, the +Chinese costumer. He had had dealings with +Wo Cheng during his sojourn in this city as a +soldier. Here was a man he could trust. He +paused by the door and gave the accustomed +signal of those other days.</p> +<p>In answer to his rap, the door opened a crack.</p> +<p>“Oo-we! Johnny!” grunted the Chinaman, +opening the door, then closed it quickly as +Johnny entered.</p> +<p>“You come buy?” he rubbed his hands +together.</p> +<p>“No come buy?”</p> +<p>“Wanchee cum-show?”</p> +<p>“No wanchee cum show. No wanchee +money.”</p> +<p>“Oo-we!” grunted the Chinaman again.</p> +<p>Johnny’s eyes were restlessly roving over the +array of garments that hung on either side of a +narrow aisle. Suddenly he uttered a low exclamation +and sprang to a corner and examined +a woman’s dress. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201' name='page_201'></a>201</span></p> +<p>“Wo Cheng,” he demanded almost fiercely, +“where you come buy this?”</p> +<p>“Oo-we!” squealed the Chinaman. “Can’t +tell mine, not savvy mine.”</p> +<p>“You woncha savvy!” Johnny hissed between +tight set teeth.</p> +<p>“Mebby can do,” murmured the Chinaman +hurriedly. “No see. Mebby now see. See +Jap man, this one, velly small Jap man. This +one think mine.”</p> +<p>“Good,” said Johnny. “Now perhaps you +can tell me what kind of a dress he took away?”</p> +<p>“Mebby can do.” The man, fumbling among +his garments, came upon a plain, Russian, +peasant type of dress.</p> +<p>“Take look, see,” he murmured. “One, two, +three, allesame.”</p> +<p>“All right, you no speak see mine, savvy.”</p> +<p>“No speak,” murmured Wo Cheng.</p> +<p>“Good-bye,” said Johnny bolting out of the +door.</p> +<p>“Mazie’s dress,” he mumbled to himself. +“They have transformed her into a Russian +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202' name='page_202'></a>202</span> +peasant girl for their safety, but where have +they taken her?”</p> +<p>As he rounded the corner, an old familiar +sound smote his ear. The rat-tat-tat of a +machine gun. It was accompanied almost at +once by another and yet another.</p> +<p>“An uprising and a battle!” he muttered +savagely. “Worse and worse. What chance +has a fellow got? Do well enough if I escape +the firing squad.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>The two oriental spies in the balloon they had +stolen from Dave Tower and Jarvis were not as +fortunate as in the first instance they seemed +to be. There was practically no wind. The +engine was slow in getting the bulky sausage +under way.</p> +<p>Suddenly as the watchers, with despair written +on their faces, gazed skyward, they saw +something slip from the cabin deck and drop +like a plummet. A silvery thread appeared to +follow it.</p> +<p>“The anchor and the cable!” exclaimed Dave. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203' name='page_203'></a>203</span> +“It’s got away from them. If it catches—C’mon.”</p> +<p>He was away like a rocket. Uneven surface, +slippery hills of snow meant nothing to him. +He was racing for freedom from threatening +years of exile.</p> +<p>Jarvis, followed by the Russians, came on +more slowly. As they mounted a low hill they +saw the cabin of the balloon give a sudden +lunge.</p> +<p>“She’s caught!” panted Jarvis. “’Ere’s +‘opin’ she ’olds.”</p> +<p>In another second, a groan of despair escaped +his lips. It was true that the anchor had caught +in a frozen bank of earth and was holding fast, +but the men were bending over the rail working +with the upper end of the steel cable. If they +could loosen it or file it, causing it to snap, +no human power could bring them back. And +if they got away with the balloon—.</p> +<p>But after despair, came hope. There sounded +the pop of an automatic. Six shots came in +quick succession. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204' name='page_204'></a>204</span></p> +<p>“Dave’s a wonder with an automatic!” +exclaimed Jarvis.</p> +<p>The men worked on. Would they accomplish +their task? Every person in the little +group of watchers held his breath.</p> +<p>Crack-crack-crack. The automatic spoke +again. Doubtless Dave had moved to a position +more directly under the cabin.</p> +<p>“’E’s got ’em! ’E’s got ’em!” exulted Jarvis, +throwing his cap in air.</p> +<p>One of the Orientals was seen to waver, then +to fall backward. The other instantly dropped +from sight.</p> +<p>“The windlass,” commanded Jarvis. “Some +of you bring it up. We’ll pull ’em down alright, +alright! We’ll get the bloody, bloomin’ ’eathen +yet.”</p> +<p>A wooden windlass, made for bringing the +balloon to earth in case of storm, was brought +forward, while Dave and Jarvis watched for any +indication of further activity on the part of the +robbers.</p> +<p>Once the windlass was fastened to the bank +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205' name='page_205'></a>205</span> +by means of ice anchors, the task of bringing +down the balloon was a matter of moments.</p> +<p>Two cowering wretches were found in one +corner of the cabin.</p> +<p>“I’m for ’aving an end to ’em at once and +immediately,” stormed Jarvis.</p> +<p>“No! No!” smiled Dave. “They’re just the +boys we want. They are going to tell us why +the engine won’t go for us.”</p> +<p>“And if they do?”</p> +<p>“If they do, we’ll leave them the greenhouse, +coal mine, heating plant and all in exchange for +that bit of information.”</p> +<p>Jarvis seemed quite content with any arrangement +which promised to put a few thousand +miles between him and the “bloody, bloomin’ +’eathen.”</p> +<p>After the wound of the one who had been +winged by Dave’s automatic had been dressed, +Dave locked himself in the cabin with the yellow +men.</p> +<p>It took him three hours to secure the desired +information, but in the end it came. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206' name='page_206'></a>206</span></p> +<p>The wounded Oriental showed him a secret +eccentric bearing through which the crank shaft +operated. When this bearing was properly +adjusted the engine worked perfectly, when it +was out of adjustment, it would not work at all.</p> +<p>When Dave had operated the engine for an +hour, he sent the prisoners back to the greenhouse, +where they were released. The gold they +had stolen was found hidden away in a locker +of the balloon cabin.</p> +<p>In another hour, the balloon, with all on +board, gently urged on by the wind, ably assisted +by the now perfect engine, was making good +time toward Vladivostok.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>As Johnny Thompson hesitated at the head of +the street, listening to the rat-tat-tat of machine +guns, uncertain which way to turn, he heard the +distant thunder of an engine in midair. Gazing +away to the north, he saw a dirigible balloon +circling in search of a likely lighting place.</p> +<p>“I wonder which faction that bird belongs +to?” he murmured. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207' name='page_207'></a>207</span></p> +<p>If he had but known the truth, a little ray of +hope would have pierced the gloom of his leaden +sky, for this balloon was none other than the one +he had seen carry his good friends, Dave and +Jarvis, away from the mines, some weeks before. +They had made the journey in safety. Twice +they had been obliged to land to escape the fury +of a storm. Wild reindeer had made up for +the scantiness of their food supply. Now they +were about to alight and enter the city of many +mysteries.</p> +<p>Pant had already entered. The clan was +gathering, gathering for stirring events, for the +development of new mysteries and the solving of +old ones. Soon, all unknown to one another, +Dave and Jarvis, Pant, Johnny Thompson, Cio-Cio-San, +and Mazie would be in the same city—a +city seething in the tumult of revolt.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XVIII_UNDER_MACHINEGUN_FIRE' id='XVIII_UNDER_MACHINEGUN_FIRE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208' name='page_208'></a>208</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> +<h3>UNDER MACHINE-GUN FIRE</h3> +</div> + +<p>By the time Johnny had left the den of Wo +Cheng, night had come down upon the city. It +was by the light of a golden moon that he saw +the balloon hanging in the sky. The balloon, +however, interested him little. He was thinking +only of Mazie. He had decided to make his way +to a corner of the city occupied by Japanese +people of doubtful character. To do this he +must leave the street he was in and, after turning +to his right, go straight ahead for ten +blocks.</p> +<p>He was not long in discovering that the carrying +out of his plans would put him in the +greatest danger. The cross-street was jammed +with Russians who fled from the raking fire of +machine guns set somewhere at the head of that +street. Johnny could still hear their rat-tat and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209' name='page_209'></a>209</span> +the sing of bullets. Men, women and children +ran through the street. An aged peasant +woman, her face streaming with blood, toppled +toward him, then fell. He sprang to assist her, +but two of her own people came to her aid.</p> +<p>“What’s the rumpus?” He hazarded the +question in English.</p> +<p>“Nobody knows,” said a clean-faced young +Russian. “It’s the Japs shooting. Can’t tell +why. Probably just nervous. Nothing was +done against them, though St. Christopher +knows it’s plenty we’d like to do. They want +this peninsula, and if keeping us fighting among +ourselves will give it to them, they’ll win it.”</p> +<p>“I’ve seen their spies two thousand miles +from the last sign of civilization.”</p> +<p>“They are everywhere, like fleas.”</p> +<p>“I’ve got to get at some of them. Think they +kidnapped a friend of mine,” said Johnny. “But +how can I get past this?”</p> +<p>“I know a closed private alley. Want to try +that?”</p> +<p>“I’ll try anything.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210' name='page_210'></a>210</span></p> +<p>“Come.”</p> +<p>The man led the way half the distance back +to Wo Cheng’s door, then suddenly opened a +door in a wall.</p> +<p>“See. Through there.”</p> +<p>He closed the door behind Johnny. Johnny +looked about. Straight on before him lay a +path, to the right of which was a garden. At +the end of the path was another door.</p> +<p>“Must open on another street,” he muttered +to himself. “Touchy sort of business this +prowling through a strange city at night with +a big row on foot. Can’t be helped though.”</p> +<p>He reached the door only to find it locked. +The wall was not high. A gnarled pear tree +offered him a lift to the top. He had soon scaled +it, and was looking up and down the narrow +street that ran on the other side.</p> +<p>“Not a soul in sight,” he whispered.</p> +<p>He listened for a second. The rattle of +machine-gun fire had ceased. Now and again +there came the crack of a rifle or automatic.</p> +<p>Johnny slipped off the wall. His feet had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211' name='page_211'></a>211</span> +hardly touched ground when a shot rang out +and a bullet sang past him. Dodging into the +deep-set doorway, he whipped out his automatic +and waited. Footsteps were approaching.</p> +<p>“Jig’s up,” he muttered. “Worse luck for +it!”</p> +<p>His hands fumbled at the door. In a second +there came a dull thud on the other side of it. +He had pushed his automatic through a latch-string +opening.</p> +<p>“No use getting caught armed,” was his mental +comment.</p> +<p>In another moment the Japanese military +police were upon him. In vain he told them that +he was an American, in vain presented his +papers. They had seen him climb over the wall; +that was enough. Many Russian radicals spoke +English very well, and, as for papers, they could +be forged. Besides, were there not many American +radicals, soldiers of fortune, here assisting +in the attempt to overthrow their rule. He +should go to prison at once, and “To-morrow!” +There was something so sinister about the way +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212' name='page_212'></a>212</span> +they said that “to-morrow” that it sent the +cold chills racing down his spine.</p> +<p>Down one narrow street, then another and +another they went until, eventually, they came +to a frowning stone-wall with an iron-grating +set deep in an arched ante-room. Through this +doorway he was thrust and the lock clanged +behind him.</p> +<p>He was not alone. He had hardly taken a +step before he stumbled upon a prone form. +Many men and some women were sprawled +about on the stone floor.</p> +<p>“Amerikaner,” came in a shrill whisper. “Lie +down here.”</p> +<p>Johnny obeyed.</p> +<p>“Got you, did they,” said the voice with a +Russian accent.</p> +<p>“Yes, and for what?” said Johnny.</p> +<p>“In this land we do not ask for what. It is +enough that we are got.”</p> +<p>“What’s to-morrow?” asked Johnny suddenly.</p> +<p>“To-morrow we will be shot.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213' name='page_213'></a>213</span></p> +<p>“That’s cheerful,” said Johnny. “What +time?”</p> +<p>“Before dawn.”</p> +<p>“That’s rotten soon,” said Johnny. “I don’t +think I’ll stay to see it.”</p> +<p>“I guess you will,” said the stranger.</p> +<p>There seemed nothing more to be said, so the +two new-found friends lay there in silence. Each +was busy with his own thoughts. Johnny’s were +mostly of Mazie and of the thousands of starving +children they had hoped to aid.</p> +<p>“It’s sure rotten luck,” he ejaculated at last.</p> +<p>Just at that moment the great iron gate was +heard to creak on its hinges. Other wretches +were being pitched inside to await their doom.</p> +<p>The door was so deeply set in the wall that +nothing could be seen of the newly arrived +prisoners.</p> +<p>As Johnny lay wondering what they were +like, he heard a shrill whisper:</p> +<p>“Johnny! Johnny Thompson!”</p> +<p>“Here!” he whispered back.</p> +<p>There were sounds of a person crawling +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214' name='page_214'></a>214</span> +toward him, the curse of a Russian who had +been disturbed in what was probably his last +sleep; then Johnny’s lips uttered a low exclamation. +He had caught the dull gleam of a golden +ball of fire.</p> +<p>“Pant,” he murmured.</p> +<p>“It’s me, Johnny.” The boy’s hand touched +him.</p> +<p>Johnny was dumfounded. “How’d they get +you?”</p> +<p>“Beaned one of them cops, I did. Saw ’em +glom onto you. Wanted t’ horn in with you.”</p> +<p>“Guess you horned in once too often,” said +Johnny huskily. “This is a death-watch we’re +keeping, and it’s for ourselves.”</p> +<p>“We better blow the coop then.”</p> +<p>“If we can.”</p> +<p>“We can.” Pant’s tone was decided and +convincing.</p> +<p>For some time after that the two boys spoke +of their experiences since last they met.</p> +<p>“You see, I got it cached out yonder three +hills and a hike outside this burg. She’ll tip the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215' name='page_215'></a>215</span> +beam at a century weight and a half, maybe +more. All pure gold, you bet. And it’s all for +the little Russian kids, every bit. I ain’t held +back a copper.”</p> +<p>Johnny, knowing that Pant was speaking of +the gold he had taken from Mine No. 3 and had +sledded nearly three thousand miles to Vladivostok +at risk of his life, could only grip his +hand and swallow hard.</p> +<p>“Gee!” said Pant, when Johnny had finished +his story. “We’ll have to find that Mazie of +yours, and quick. But we’ve got to get out of +here first.”</p> +<p>He was ready with his plans after a moment’s +thought. Prisoners were being brought in every +ten or fifteen minutes. There were no lights +in the prison and the military police carried +none. The place was pitch dark. He did not +say that he could see well enough, but, from past +experiences, Johnny knew that he could. They +would creep close to the iron gate and, when it +was opened to admit others, they would crawl +out on hands and knees. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216' name='page_216'></a>216</span></p> +<p>“And if luck’s bad, then this,” said Pant, +slipping a small dagger into Johnny’s hand.</p> +<p>“You got one, too?”</p> +<p>“Sure.”</p> +<p>“All right.”</p> +<p>They crept close to the gate and waited. Five +minutes passed. Ten minutes of dreadful silence +went by with never an approaching footstep. +Johnny’s heart beat painfully. What if the last +poor victim had been brought to await his doom? +Dawn would be breaking, and then the firing +squad. Cold perspiration beaded his forehead.</p> +<p>But hold! there came again the shuffle of feet. +A lone prisoner was being brought in.</p> +<p>“Now!” came in a faint whisper. A steady +hand gripped his arm. He felt himself led forward. +A foot scraped his knee. It was the +incoming prisoner. He uttered no sound.</p> +<p>They were now on the outside of the gate. +Flattening themselves against the wall, not daring +to breathe, they waited.</p> +<p>Turning, the police clicked their heels and +marched away. Outside, before the open anteway, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217' name='page_217'></a>217</span> +marched a solitary guard. Once they were +past him, they were safe.</p> +<p>Fortune favored them. The man hazarded a +moment off duty to step into a door for a cup +of coffee. In that moment, they were away.</p> +<p>“Easy,” said Pant. “Should have brought +your friend, the Roosian.”</p> +<p>“He wouldn’t come,” said Johnny sorrowfully. +“Said it wasn’t any use.”</p> +<p>“All we got to do’s keep hid till mornin’.”</p> +<p>They escaped from the alley through a gate +into a garden, and there, in a shed against +the side of a brick building, they waited for +the morning.</p> +<p>As they lay there half awake, there came to +Johnny’s ears the words of a ridiculous popular +song of other days:</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>“Oh, Johnny! Oh, Johnny! How you come on,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Oh, Johnny! Oh, Johnny! How you come on!”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>“Sounds like Mazie,” whispered Johnny, +starting to his feet. “It <i>is</i> Mazie. They’ve +got her hid up there!”</p> +<p>Pant pulled him back to earth. “If it’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218' name='page_218'></a>218</span> +Mazie, they’ve got men watchin’. No good to +spill the beans. To-morrow night we’ll make up +a bunch an’ git ’em.”</p> +<p>Realizing the wisdom of these words, Johnny +quieted his mad desire to rush the place at once, +and sat down.</p> +<p>Just as the first red streaks striped the sky, +there came a loud volley of shots.</p> +<p>Johnny plugged his ears and shivered. Perhaps +they were executing the prisoners. Who +could tell?</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIX_JOHNNY_GOES_INTO_ACTION' id='XIX_JOHNNY_GOES_INTO_ACTION'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219' name='page_219'></a>219</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2> +<h3>JOHNNY GOES INTO ACTION</h3> +</div> + +<p>The first precaution taken by Johnny and +Pant, after leaving the shed in the back garden, +was to hasten to the water-front where their +friends, the rough and ready mining gang, were +still living in a cabin near the gasoline schooner. +Selecting eight of these, Johnny detailed them +to work in two shifts of four each, to lurk about +the building where Mazie was being confined. +They were instructed to guard every exit to the +place, and, if an attempt was made by the kidnappers +to change base, to put up a fight and, +if possible, release Mazie.</p> +<p>Johnny realized that time was precious, that +not one moment must be lost in going to the +rescue of his girl-pal, but in this land of many +soldiers and little law it was necessary to move +with caution. When darkness came, with his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220' name='page_220'></a>220</span> +gang of miners and a few other hardy fellows, +he could rush the place and bring Mazie away +without being caught in the hopelessly entangled +net of Russian law.</p> +<p>Pant appeared to have lost all interest in the +case. He went prowling along the water-front, +peering into every junk-shop he came to. What +he finally pounced upon and carried away, after +tossing the shopkeeper a coin, amused Johnny +greatly. It was a bamboo pole, like a fishing-pole +only much larger. He estimated it to be +at least five inches across the base.</p> +<p>“Now what in time does he want of that?” +Johnny asked himself.</p> +<p>Arrived at the Red Cross station, Pant disappeared +with his pole inside an old shed that +flanked the Red Cross building. Johnny saw +little more of him that day. Pant went out after +lunch to return with a cheap looking-glass and +a glass cutter. There was an amused grin lurking +about his lips as Johnny stared at him, but +he said nothing; only returned to his shed and +his mysterious labors. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221' name='page_221'></a>221</span></p> +<p>As darkness fell, the clan gathered. The +miners in full force and variously armed with +rifles, automatics, knives and pick-axes came in +from the water-front. Pant came out from his +hiding. He carried on his back a bulky sack +which did not appear to weigh him down +greatly. It gave forth a hollow rattle as he +walked.</p> +<p>“Sounds like skulls,” said one miner with a +superstitious shudder.</p> +<p>The little band received a welcome shock as +they rounded the corner of the street by the +cathedral. They chanced to be beneath a flickering +street-lamp when some one shouted:</p> +<p>“Hello there, ’ere’s the gang!”</p> +<p>It was Jarvis and Dave Tower. Having +alighted from the balloon and procured for their +exiled friends comfortable quarters in a place +of refuge, they had gone out in search of +Johnny Thompson, and here they had found him.</p> +<p>“What’s up?” demanded Dave.</p> +<p>Johnny told him the situation in as few words +as possible, ending, “You want in on it?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222' name='page_222'></a>222</span></p> +<p>“Yer jolly right,” exclaimed Jarvis, “and +’ere’s ’ate to the bloomin’ ’eathen!”</p> +<p>So, strengthened by two good men, the party +moved cautiously forward until they were only +one block from their destination.</p> +<p>“Split up into two sections,” commanded +Johnny in a whisper. “One party under Dave +go up street beyond the place, the other under +Jarvis stay down street. Pant and I will drop +back into the garden and try to establish connection +with the prisoner. We’ll get the general +lay of things and report. If a shot is fired, that +will be a signal to rush the place.”</p> +<p>They were away. Creeping stealthily forward, +they entered the gate to the garden. Then, +skulking along the wall, they made their way +toward the shed where they had spent part of +the previous night. Twice the hollow things in +Pant’s sack rattled ominously.</p> +<p>“Keep that thing quiet, can’t you?” snapped +Johnny. “What y’ got it for, anyway?”</p> +<p>“Show you in a minute,” whispered Pant.</p> +<p>So they crept on toward the goal. No lights +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223' name='page_223'></a>223</span> +shone from these back windows. The place +was dark as a tomb. Somewhere in the distance +a clock slowly chimed the hour. A shiver ran +over Johnny’s body. Things would happen soon.</p> +<p>“All I ask is five minutes; five minutes, that’s +all,” whispered Pant, as he lowered his sack +cautiously to the ground and unlaced its top.</p> +<p>Dimly through the darkness Johnny could see +him draw several long objects from the bag. +When the bag was empty, he began setting these +objects end to end. Evidently they were fitted +with sockets, for, once they were joined +together, they stuck in place. He soon had them +all together. Johnny surmised that this was the +reconstructed bamboo pole with all obstructing +joints taken out; but what Pant meant to do +with it, he could not even guess. He watched +with impatient curiosity.</p> +<p>“A speaking tube,” he whispered at last. +“It’s a good idea.”</p> +<p>“Mebby; but that ain’t it,” breathed Pant.</p> +<p>“Well, whatever it is, be quick about it. +Somebody out front may spill the beans any +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224' name='page_224'></a>224</span> +time. If the military police rush the boys, the +game’s up.”</p> +<p>Pant paid no attention. His movements were +as steady and cautious as a cat stalking a robin.</p> +<p>“Now, I guess we’re about ready,” he murmured. +“Be prepared for a dash. There’s +stairs to the right. I may start something.” His +words were short and quick. Evidently his heart +was giving him trouble.</p> +<p>“All right,” Johnny stood on tip-toes in his +agitation.</p> +<p>Suddenly Pant reared his tube in air. Then, +to Johnny’s utter astonishment, he dropped on +one knee and peered into an opening at one side +of it.</p> +<p>“A periscope!” whispered Johnny. “But +what can you see in the dark?”</p> +<p>For a moment Pant did not answer. His +breath came in little gasps.</p> +<p>“She’s there,” he whispered. “She’s tied. +There’s terror in her eyes. There’s something +crawling on the floor. Can’t make it out. We +gotta get up there quick.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225' name='page_225'></a>225</span></p> +<p>All at once a shot rang out. It came from the +window. The tinkle of broken glass sliding +down the bamboo tube told that the periscope +was a wreck.</p> +<p>“Periscope’s done for. They saw,” whispered +Pant. “Now for it. Up the stairs. They gave +our signal. Boys will rush the place from the +front. C’mon!”</p> +<p>They were off like a flash. Up the stairs they +bounded. A door obstructed their way. +Johnny’s shoulder did for that.</p> +<p>Crashing into the room they found a candle +flaring. Two persons were struggling to free +themselves from imitation dragon costumes. It +had been these who frightened Mazie.</p> +<p>“Snap dragon!” exclaimed Johnny, seizing +one of the beasts by the tail, and sending him +crashing through the panels of a door.</p> +<p>“Snap dragon!” He sent the other through +the window to the ground below.</p> +<p>“I’ll teach you!” He glared about him for +an instant. Then his eyes fell on Mazie. Without +attempting to free her, he gathered her into +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226' name='page_226'></a>226</span> +his arms and fairly hurled her through the door +where he and Pant had entered. Then he took +his stand in front of it.</p> +<p>He was not a moment too soon, for now the +place was swarming with little yellow men. In +the light of the candle, their faces seemed hideously +distorted with hate. At once Johnny went +into action. His right took a man under the +chin. No sound came from him save a dull thud. +A second went jibbering over the window-sill. +A third crashed against the plaster wall. Pant, +too, was busy. Everywhere at once, his wicked +little dagger gleamed. But, suddenly, two of the +strongest sprang at him, bearing him to the +floor.</p> +<p>Leaping at these, Johnny gripped them by +their collars and sent them crashing together. +His breath was coming in hoarse gasps. He +could stand little more of this. Where were the +boys?</p> +<p>As if in answer, there came the crash of arms +on a door and Jarvis burst into the room. He +was followed by the whole gang. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227' name='page_227'></a>227</span></p> +<p>“Ow-ee! Ow-ee!” squealed the yellow men. +“The white devils!”</p> +<p>In another moment the room was cleared of +fighters. Only three of the enemy remained. +They were well past moving.</p> +<p>“Pitch ’em after ’em,” roared Johnny. “Tell +the cowards to carry away their wounded.”</p> +<p>The wounded men were sent sliding down the +stairs.</p> +<p>“Now then, git out. Scatter. I never saw +any of you before. See!”</p> +<p>There was a roar of understanding from the +men. Then they “faded.”</p> +<p>Leaping to the back stairway, Johnny picked +Mazie up in his arms and carried her down to +the garden. Here he cut the bands that held +her hands and feet.</p> +<p>“Can you walk?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“C’mon then. Gotta beat it.”</p> +<p>They were away like a shot.</p> +<p>A half-hour later they were joking over a +cup of chocolate and a plate of sweet biscuits +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228' name='page_228'></a>228</span> +in the Red Cross canteen. Mazie was still +dressed as a Russian peasant girl.</p> +<p>“I say, Mazie!” exclaimed Johnny. “You +make a jolly fine-looking peasant!”</p> +<p>“Thanks!” said Mazie. “But if that’s the +way they treat peasant girls, I prefer to be an +American.”</p> +<p>“What did they do to you?”</p> +<p>“Nothing, only tried to frighten me into telling +where the gold was. It’s not so much what +they did as what they would have done.” She +shivered.</p> +<p>“Did they get any of the gold?”</p> +<p>“Not an ounce. It’s all stowed away here at +the Red Cross.”</p> +<p>“Good! Then we’ll have our haven of refuge +yet.”</p> +<p>“If we live.”</p> +<p>“And we will.”</p> +<p>They lapsed into a long silence, each thinking +many thoughts.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XX_SOME_MYSTERIES_UNCOVERED' id='XX_SOME_MYSTERIES_UNCOVERED'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229' name='page_229'></a>229</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> +<h3>SOME MYSTERIES UNCOVERED</h3> +</div> + +<p>The days that followed were busy ones for +Johnny Thompson and Mazie. The tumult in +the city had died away. There was a chance +for work. Feed must be bought for the cattle +from Mongolia; the hotel was to be rented. +Through the good services of the Red Cross, +the most needy of the refugees were to be +assembled, and, when the ship from China +arrived, the work of unloading was to be +directed.</p> +<p>Several busy days had passed before Johnny +had time to think of looking up his gang. At +this moment he was seated at the head of a +seemingly endless table on each side of which +was an array of pinch-faced but happy children.</p> +<p>When he started out to find the men the first +one he came upon was Dave Tower. Dave +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230' name='page_230'></a>230</span> +began telling him of the strange case of the +professor who had been with the Orientals at +the mines, and had drifted north with them in +the balloon.</p> +<p>“His mind seems all right now and he is +well as any man could be, but he either cannot +or will not tell us a thing of his life with the +Orientals up there at the mines,” said Dave. +“There are some things we would all like to +know. Strange case, I’d call it.”</p> +<p>“Yes, but there have been stranger. Say!” +Johnny slapped him on the shoulder. “You +bring him around to headquarters to-night. +I’ve got an idea.”</p> +<p>“Righto. We’ll be there. So long till then.”</p> +<p>When Dave arrived with the professor, he +found that the stage had been set for a moving-picture +show. He was glad of that; it had been +months since he had seen one. He was hardly +prepared, however, for the type of show it was +to be.</p> +<p>The room was darkened. Beside him, sat the +professor. There came the peculiar snap-snap +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231' name='page_231'></a>231</span> +of the carbons as the power came on. The next +instant a dazzling light fell upon the screen, +and out into that light there moved a half-score +of little yellow men. Some were working industriously +at a machine which cut cubes of earth +from the bank before them. Others were carrying +the cubes away and piling them.</p> +<p>Professor Todd moved uneasily. He put his +hands to his eyes, as if to shut out the scene. +Then unexpectedly he cried out, as if in pain:</p> +<p>“My head! My head! He struck me.”</p> +<p>“Who struck you?”</p> +<p>Dave looked about. There was no one near +them.</p> +<p>“The yellow man; he struck me,” cried the +professor. Then he covered his face with his +hands and his body swayed back and forth with +suppressed emotion.</p> +<p>Johnny moved silently toward them.</p> +<p>“It’s coming back to him. When he regains +control of himself, he will know everything. It +was the flash of light and the familiar scene that +did it. Of course, you know that is the film he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232' name='page_232'></a>232</span> +sent out to us when he was a prisoner in the +mine.”</p> +<p>What Johnny said was quite true. When the +man was again in the cool out-of-doors, he was +able to give a full account of his life with the +Orientals. They had made him prisoner because +they feared to have him at large. Other white +men might appear, as indeed they had, and he +might reveal their plans. He had known in a +vague sort of way that some mysterious deathtrap +had been set in Mine No. 1, and when, +through a crack in the wall to his prison, he +saw the white men arrive, he determined to +attempt to warn them. This he did by singing +songs to the Orientals and, at the same time, +making phonographic records to be sent rolling +down the hill later.</p> +<p>“But you don’t actually know how Frank +Langlois was killed?” There was disappointment +in Dave’s tone.</p> +<p>“No, I do not,” said the professor.</p> +<p>“Oh, as to that,” said Johnny. “Didn’t Pant +tell you?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233' name='page_233'></a>233</span></p> +<p>“Pant? I haven’t seen Pant since the fight +to save Mazie.”</p> +<p>“Isn’t he with the bunch?”</p> +<p>“No—nor hasn’t been. Jarvis says his +goggles were smashed in the fight. Says he +saw him without them. No one’s seen him +since.”</p> +<p>“You don’t think they got him?”</p> +<p>“Not Pant. He can’t be got, not by a mere +band of Orientals. But what’s this he told you +about Langlois?”</p> +<p>“Oh! He stayed up there, you know. He +went into Mine No. 1 and prowled round a bit. +Found where the yellow bunch had run a high-tension +insulated wire through a crevice in the +rock to the head of that pool into which Langlois +drove his pick. They ran a second wire to +the base of the pool and connected the two to a +heavy battery circuit. They had discovered that +the pool rested upon a chalk rock which was +good insulation. There was, therefore, no +ground to it. But the damp spot on which +Langlois was standing when he swung the pick +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234' name='page_234'></a>234</span> +was grounded. The minute he struck the pool +the whole current passed through his body.”</p> +<p>“Electrocuted!”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“Well, that’s settled,” said Dave, after a +moment’s reflection. “Now what about Pant? +Where is he?”</p> +<p>“Let’s go ask the gang.”</p> +<p>In a little cabin close to the water-front, they +found the gang. They were all there but Pant.</p> +<p>“Where’s Pant?” asked Johnny.</p> +<p>“On his way to America,” said one of the +men. “Saw him on the steamer not a half +hour ago. He told me to tell you he’d left the +gold for you up at the Red Cross.”</p> +<p>“Have his goggles on?”</p> +<p>“Nope.”</p> +<p>“And his eyes?” The men, leaning forward +eagerly, listened for the answer to this question.</p> +<p>“Steamer was pullin’ out; I was too far away +to see ’em.”</p> +<p>“Oh!” The men sank back in disgust.</p> +<p>“As for that,” said Jarvis, “I seen ’im plain +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235' name='page_235'></a>235</span> +enough the night of the scrap. ’E’d ’ad ’is +goggles smashed to bits. I saw ’is eyes plain +as I see yours.”</p> +<p>The men leaned forward again.</p> +<p>“An’,” Jarvis went on, “an’ ’ope I may die +for it, if ’e ain’t got one panther eye. I saw +the pupil of it shut up in the light just like a +cat’s.”</p> +<p>“You’ll die for it, or say you’re wrong, anyway, +about the panther part,” smiled Johnny.</p> +<p>“D’ y’ mean to say I lied?” demanded Jarvis +hotly.</p> +<p>“Not exactly that. You saw what you expected +to see, that’s all. As far as the panther +part is concerned, you’re dead wrong.”</p> +<p>All eyes were now turned on Johnny.</p> +<p>“You see,” he smiled, “the pupil of a panther’s +eye does not contract to a line in the +light as a house cat’s does. It contracts to a +smaller circle, just as yours and mine do. Go +consult your encyclopedia. Ask any hunter of +big game, or keeper of a zoo, and he’ll tell +you that I’m right.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236' name='page_236'></a>236</span></p> +<p>The laugh was plainly on Jarvis, and he got +it from everyone.</p> +<p>“All the same,” he maintained stoutly, “that +don’t prove that Pant ain’t got a cat’s eye, an’ +you all know ’e ’as or ’e’s a devil. ’E can see +in the dark.”</p> +<p>There was no disputing this point, and there +the argument dropped.</p> +<p>Two months later, having got the haven of +refuge well established and turned over to the +management of the Red Cross, Johnny and +Mazie were on a Pacific liner bound for America. +Johnny might return at some future time +to the Seven Mines, but for the present he +had had quite enough of Russia.</p> +<p>The gang were all on board. With Dave +went two persons—the beautiful young exiled +Russian girl and her mother.</p> +<p>As the steamer lost the last glimpse of land, +Johnny drew from his pocket a wireless message +he had received that morning. It read:</p> +<p>“Come over. Get in on something good. +Secret Service and a three-ring circus, Pant.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237' name='page_237'></a>237</span></p> +<p>“Secret Service and a three-ring circus,” +repeated Johnny. “Sounds pretty good. Worth +looking up. Pant’s a queer one. Bet he’s found +something different and mysterious. I’ll bet on +that.”</p> +<p>He had. But this story must be told in our +next volume.</p> +<!-- generated by ppgen.rb version: 2.25 --> +<!-- timestamp: Wed Aug 20 04:56:50 -0600 2008 --> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Panther Eye, by Roy J. 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