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diff --git a/old/44352.txt b/old/44352.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e2dbe50 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/44352.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5553 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Shadow Passes, 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: The Shadow Passes + A Mystery Story for Boys + +Author: Roy J. Snell + +Release Date: December 5, 2013 [EBook #44352] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SHADOW PASSES *** + + + + +Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Dave Morgan +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + _A Mystery Story for Boys_ + + + + + _The_ + SHADOW PASSES + + + _By_ + ROY J. SNELL + + + The Reilly & Lee Co. + Chicago + + COPYRIGHT 1938 + BY + THE REILLY & LEE CO. + PRINTED IN THE U.S.A. + + + + + CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER PAGE + I The Silver Fox 11 + II Blackie's Story 32 + III Fat and Furious 38 + IV The Capture of Old Silver 53 + V Johnny Fights for Fun 68 + VI Smokey Joe's Blue Bears 77 + VII A Strange Battle 85 + VIII The Stormy Petrel's First Prize 98 + IX Fate Lends a Hand 103 + X A New World 111 + XI The Fall of Red McGee 119 + XII A Ptarmigan Feast 128 + XIII The Shadow 141 + XIV A Voice in the Fog 147 + XV A Roar from the Deep 158 + XVI Looming Peril 166 + XVII Trapped 174 + XVIII Five Rounds and a Friend 181 + XIX Ordered Below 189 + XX A Battle in the Dark 194 + XXI Wall of Glass 201 + XXII Dreams 209 + XXIII In the Blue Bear's Cave 216 + XXIV Overtaking a Shadow 225 + XXV "Bill" Returns 233 + + + + + THE SHADOW PASSES + + + + + CHAPTER I + THE SILVER FOX + + +"And then I saw it--the Shadow." + +The speaker's eyes appeared to snap. Johnny Thompson leaned forward in +his chair. "It glided through the fog without a sound." The voice droned +on, "Not a sound, mind you! We had a small boat with powerful motors. I +stepped on the gas. Our motors roared. We were after that shadow." + +"And then?" Johnny Thompson whispered. + +"For all I know," the black-eyed man murmured, leaning back in his chair, +"we might have cut that shadow square in two. Anyway, that's the last we +saw of it for that day. + +"But think of it!" he exclaimed after a second's pause. "Think of the +thing just disappearing in the fog like that!" + +He was a romantic figure, this man Blackie. The boys of Matanuska Valley +in Alaska loved this gathering of an evening about the red-hot stove in +the store. And no part of the evening's entertainment was ever half so +thrilling as Blackie's stories. + +"It was spring then," Blackie added, "late May, when the salmon run was +on." + +"It was a whale after salmon, that shadow," someone suggested. + +"No, sir!" Blackie fairly shouted. "It was too fast for a whale! Some +sort of Oriental craft, I shouldn't wonder. Though how they'd make it go +without a sound is beyond me. + +"Ah well," he sighed, "I'll be rid of these by spring." He kicked at the +crutches beside his chair. "Then I'll be after 'em again, those bloomin' +Orientals and their gliding shadows." + +"You going back into the Coast Guard Service?" Johnny asked eagerly. + +"I sure am!" Blackie agreed heartily. "Boy! That's the life! A speedy +boat with two or three airplane motors in her hull, a good crew, plenty +of gas, the wide open sea and enough trouble to keep your eyes open day +and night. Man! Oh, man!" + +"Take me along," Johnny suggested impulsively. + +"Me too!" put in Lawrence, his slim, bright-eyed cousin. + +"What do you know about boats?" Blackie asked. + +"Plenty," was Johnny's prompt reply. "Been on 'em all my life, power +boats on the Great Lakes, Carib Indian sailboats in the Caribbean, +skin-boats way up north. It's all the same. + +"And Lawrence here," he added after a brief pause, "he knows about +motors." + +"I--I was assistant mechanic in an airplane hangar for a season," +Lawrence agreed modestly. + +"Well, it--might--be--arranged," Blackie replied slowly. "Don't know +about pay. You sort of have to be on regular for that. But up here in the +north, things can't always be done according to department regulations. +Anyway, it's worth thinking about." + +"Thank--oh, thank you," Lawrence stammered. Johnny knew how he was +feeling at that moment. He, Johnny, had met adventure in many climes. +Lawrence had lived a quiet life. Really to sail on a coast guard boat in +search of Orientals suspected of stealing salmon, smuggling or spying off +the Alaskan shores, to chase gray shadows that pass in the fog! Worth +thinking of? Well, you'd just know it was! + +Johnny was still thinking of all this when two hours later, he crept +beneath the blankets in the small log cabin room occupied by Lawrence and +himself. + +"That would be great!" he was telling himself. In fancy, he allowed his +mind to wander. Bristol Bay, a hundred and fifty miles wide and a hundred +and fifty long, fishing boats on the water, canneries on the shore and +back behind all this in the fog somewhere, beyond the three-mile line, +great dark bulks that were Oriental ships. Why these ships? No one knew +exactly. "Spying out our shore-line," some said, "stealing our salmon," +said others. And perhaps they were smugglers. It was known that these +ships carried smaller crafts that could be lowered to the water. "Could +do anything, go anywhere, these small boats," Johnny assured himself. + +"And the Shadow, that mysterious gray form that goes streaking through +the fog. What could it be? + +"Ah, well," he settled deeper among the blankets. "It's a long time till +spring, and here, right in Matanuska Valley is exciting adventure +aplenty." + +As if reading his thoughts, Lawrence murmured dreamily, "We'll go after +him again tomorrow." + +"Yes," Johnny agreed, "tomorrow." + + +"Lawrence! Look! There he is!" Johnny pointed excitedly up the glistening +expanse of frozen river. Tomorrow had come. They were on the river. + +"Wh--where?" Lawrence whispered. + +"You don't have to whisper." Johnny laughed low. "He's way up there. I +can scarcely see him with the glass. Here! Take it. See that pool of +water on the right side?" + +"Yes--yes, I see." Lawrence took the field glasses. + +"At this end of that pool. I saw him move. Look quick!" + +For a space of ten seconds Lawrence studied that pool. "Yes," he +exclaimed at last, "he _is_ there! I saw him move over to the right." + +"Lawrence!" Johnny's voice was tense with emotion. "I'm going after him!" + +Johnny bent over to tighten a skate strap. "Here! Give me the bag. You +follow me, but not too fast. You can keep the glasses. I won't need +them." + +"Al--all right, Johnny. Be careful! You--" + +But Johnny was away. Skating from the hips, scarcely lifting a foot from +the ice, he appeared to glide without effort over the glass-like surface +of the river. + +The boy's spirits rose. They were "after him again." And "he" was a grand +prize indeed. + +"If only we can get him," Johnny was thinking. "If we only can." + +The distant future quite forgotten, Johnny was living intensely in the +glorious present. Lawrence followed slowly. He, too, was a skillful +skater. The river at this point was frozen solidly. No need for thought +here. At once his mind was busy with memories of the not-too-distant past +and plans for the future. + +Life for him had been strange. Eight months before he had been on the +broad, dry prairies of the Dakotas. Now he was skating on the Matanuska +River in Alaska. Nor was this just an adventurous winter trip. The +Matanuska Valley was his home and would be, he hoped, for years to come. +Six miles back and up a half mile from the river was their claim and the +sod-covered log cabin they called home. + +"We are pioneers!" he whispered to himself. "Pioneers!" he repeated +softly. How he loved that word. How much it meant to them all; freedom, +new life, fresh hope and in the end a home all their own. "And paid for," +he declared sturdily. + +Yes, when the government had announced a resettlement project in this +rich valley and the Lawsons who had been driven from their farm home by +drouth and dust heard of it they had joined up. And here they were: +father, mother and son, with cousin Johnny thrown in for good measure. + +"Been here six months," Lawrence thought. "Got a little start. And next +year!" Ah, yes, next year. His face sobered. So much depended on the +future. And they needed so many things. + +"We'll not go in debt," his father had insisted stoutly. "Not for a +single thing we can do without." + +But now the boy's mind came back with a snap to the immediate present. As +he looked ahead he saw nothing of Johnny. For a second his heart +fluttered. Had his good pal come upon an unsuspected air-hole? Had he +gone through? Was he, at this moment, caught by the swift current, +shooting along rapidly beneath the ice? + +"You have to know your river," an old-timer had said to them. "Every foot +of it." Did Johnny know it well enough, or-- + +Of a sudden he let out a low, happy laugh. Some distance ahead, showing +among the branches of a fallen fir tree, he had caught a glimpse of +Johnny's plaid mackinaw. + +"He--he's all right," he breathed. "Just getting a look." + +Johnny was now within a hundred yards of that dark pool, where, he hoped, +their prize still lurked. + +"He must see him with the naked eye," Lawrence murmured as he glided into +the shadow of a shelving bank. Here, steadying himself with one hand, he +held the glass to his eyes with the other. + +Then, with hand trembling so it seemed the glass would drop, he +exclaimed, "Man! Oh, man! It's a silver fox and a beauty! If only he gets +him! If he does!" + +They were hunters, these boys. "Strange hunters!" some might say. "No +guns! No traps!" This valley was alive with rich, fur-bearing animals. +With guns and traps one might reap a winter's harvest. Without guns or +traps how was it to be done! This had been the question uppermost in +their minds some weeks before. In the end they had found the answer, or +thought they had. And a strange answer it was. + +They had arrived, this little family of four homesteaders, along with +hundreds of others in the Matanuska Valley, too late in the spring to +clear land and raise a crop. They had been obliged to content themselves +with a large garden and an acre of potatoes. + +Such potatoes as those had been! "We'll sell two hundred bushels!" +Lawrence had exulted. "That will go a long way toward buying a small +tractor. Then just watch our smoke!" + +"Oh, no you won't!" Jack Morgan, an old-time settler in the valley, had +laughed. + +"What? Why not?" the boy demanded. + +"Who'll you sell 'em to?" the old-timer asked in a kindly voice. + +"Why, we--we'll ship 'em out." + +"You can't, son," Jack's voice rumbled. "That's the trouble. At present +there's no market for farm products here. Never has been. That'll be +worked out in time, now the government is interested. But just now we +have to eat our own potatoes." + +"But how do you get any money?" Lawrence had demanded. + +"Trap foxes, minks, martin. Good money in trappin'," was the old-timer's +reply. + +Of course, the boys had come rushing home bursting with the news that +they could make money all winter long trapping. + +To their surprise they saw Lawrence's father's smiling face draw into +sober lines. + +"No, boys," he said quietly. "Not that. Anything but trapping. It's too +cruel. I'd rather you went out with a gun." + +"But we haven't a gun," Lawrence protested. + +"That's right," the father agreed. "And it's not to be regretted. + +"You see, boys," his face took on a strange look, "when I was about ten +years old I had a dog I thought the world and all of. He didn't cost a +lot of money. Never won any prizes at dog shows. But his hair was kinky, +his eyes alive with fun and his bark a joyous sound to hear. No boy ever +had a more faithful friend than good old Bing. + +"And then," his voice grew husky, "well, you see there was a man who +lived all by himself down by the river, Skunk McGee they called him. +Never amounted to much, he didn't. But he trapped enough skunks and +muskrats to pay for his groceries. + +"Our farm was along the river, on both sides. Father told him more than +once not to set his traps on our farm. + +"One time in the dead of winter, way down below zero, old Bing didn't +come home. I was worried but father said, 'He's gone to the neighbors and +they took him in on account of its being so cold.' + +"But he hadn't," Mr. Lawson's tone changed abruptly. "He was in one of +Skunk McGee's traps. And when we found him he was dead, frozen hard as a +rock. + +"And so you see, boys," he added quietly, "I've always hated traps. I +never see one even now but I seem to see poor old Bing with one foot in +it, whining and shivering out there all alone." + +From that day on the thought of traps was banished from their minds. + +But the foxes? Did they vanish? No indeed! The foxes saw to it that they +were not forgotten. + +Before the summer was at an end some families, unaccustomed to the +pioneer life, lost courage and decided to return to their original homes. +Among these were two families who had brought with them small flocks of +chickens. By careful planning the Lawsons were able to buy the chickens. +Having built a stout log henhouse and a small wire enclosure for sunny +days, they felt better than ever prepared for the winter. + +"Chicken for Thanksgiving and Christmas and eggs all winter long! What +luck!" Lawrence rejoiced. + +The chickens, no doubt, were something of a surprise to the foxes. But +had they not always preyed upon ptarmigan? And were not chickens just big +plump ptarmigan? Perhaps this was the way they reasoned. At any rate, one +night Lawrence heard a loud squawking and rushed out just in time to see +a plump white hen vanish into the night. A fox had her by the neck. + +"Something must be done about that," he insisted at once. "If we can't +trap the foxes, what then?" + +"Take them alive," was his father's prompt reply. + +"Alive! Alive!" both boys cried. + +"I can't see why not," was Lawrence's father's quiet reply. "Of course, +you'll have to wear tough, moose-hide mittens and keep your noses out of +reach, but--" + +"We'll do it," Lawrence exclaimed. "But then," his face sobered, "how'll +we ever catch up with a fox?" + +"When I was a boy," said his father, "we used to catch muskrats on +skates." + +"Muskrats on skates?" Lawrence laughed. + +"We were on the skates," his father corrected with a smile. "The rats +were on the ice, you see," he leaned forward. "We worked it this way. +We'd watch until the muskrat came out of his hole to get a drink. He'd go +to an open pool of water at the edge of the ice. We'd wait until he'd +started back across the ice. Then we'd come swooping down on him. He'd +get frightened and sprawl all over the ice--no wild creature can handle +himself well on the ice. So we had him. + +"Once," he chuckled, "Bob Barnett saw something moving on the ice. It was +just getting dark. He thought it was a rat. He come swooping down upon it +and--" he paused to chuckle. "Well, it turned out to be a skunk. The +skunk objected to his intrusion. So Bob went home to bury his +clothes--just for a scent." + +The boys joined in the laugh that followed but they were not slow in +following this suggestion. They found, however, that great skill and +caution were needed in this type of hunting. + +They made progress slowly. After catching two muskrats, a snow-shoe +rabbit and two ground-squirrels, they decided to start a small zoo all +their own. + +"Who knows?" Lawrence enthused. "We may catch some truly rare creature. +The keepers of zoos are always on the lookout for live specimens. We may +sell enough to get that bright new tractor down at Palmer after all." + +"A tractor!" Johnny doubted. "Oh! No! Surely not that much!" + +"And yet," Lawrence now thought as he stood watching for Johnny's next +move on the river ice, "there he is creeping up on a silver fox. What is +a real, live silver fox worth?" To this exciting question he could form +no accurate answer. He had a hazy recollection of reading somewhere about +one that was sold for $3000.00. + +"No such luck as that," he whispered. + +Just now, however, his attention was directed toward the silver fox that, +still very much at liberty, had taken a good drink from the pool and was +standing, nose in air, apparently looking, listening, smelling. Had he +smelled trouble? Would he drop into the pool to swim across and disappear +on the farther bank, or would he start back across that glistening +stretch of ice? Lawrence felt his heart leap as he saw the fox drop his +head. The big moment was at hand. + +"He--he's going across!" he exclaimed in a hoarse whisper. "It means so +much!" His thoughts went into a tailspin. Not only would they possess a +real, live silver fox for which, beyond doubt, some zoo would pay +handsomely, but their flock of chickens would be safe, for they could +tell by the size of the tracks that he was the one that was getting the +chickens. He was a sly one, indeed, this fox. Three times in the last +month, in spite of their every effort to prevent it, he had carried off a +fat old hen. + +"He--Johnny's starting," Lawrence said, as, gliding silently from cover, +he prepared to follow his cousin on his swift, silent, breathless quest. + +It was a truly wonderful sight, those two boys moving as if pushed by an +unseen hand closer, ever closer to the unsuspecting fox. + +Moving swiftly, Johnny reached a fallen cottonwood tree. Just then the +fox, pausing in his course, once more sniffed the air. "I might get him +if I rushed him now," he thought, "and I might miss." This was true. The +fox was but a third of the way across the ice. He was still too close to +the pool. The plan was to allow him to reach the very center of the +river, then to rush him. Startled, he would start quickly for some shore. +Losing all sense of caution, he would begin to sprawl upon the ice. As +the boy came rushing on with the speed of the wind, he would stoop over, +snatch at the fox and speed on. He must seize the fox just back of his +ears. Could he do it? As he stood there hidden his pulse pounded madly. +He, too, had seen that it was a silver fox. + +"He--he's smelled me!" The boy's voice rose in a sudden shrill shout. +"Come on, Lawrence! I'm going after him! Bring the bag!" + +Gripping a large, moose-hide sack, Lawrence went speeding after him. + +As for Johnny, with breath-taking suddenness, he saw the distance between +him and the fox fade. A hundred yards, fifty, twenty, and--"Now!" he +breathed. "Now!" + +The fox was not a foot from the edge of the pool when, still speeding +wildly, the boy bent down and made one wild grab. + +"Got him!" he shouted exultantly. But wait! Ten seconds more and the +fox's ivory teeth were flashing in his very face. He seemed to feel them +tearing at his nose. There was nothing to do but drop him. With a +suddenness, startling even to the fox, the boy let go. + +Down dropped the fox. On sped the boy. When Lawrence reached the spot the +fox had vanished into a hole and Johnny was skating slowly, mournfully +back. + +"Never mind," Lawrence consoled. "We'll get him another time." + +"But a silver fox and a beauty!" Johnny exclaimed. "Think of losing him!" + +"I have thought." Lawrence was able to grin in spite of his +disappointment. "It would have meant a lot and now--" he chuckled, "now +we know it's a real silver fox after our chickens. We'll have to lock +them in a vault." + +"Not as bad as that," said Johnny. "But Lawrence," his voice dropped. +"This must remain a deep secret. Not a word to anyone. If Jim and Jack +Mayhorn knew about this there'd be a trap on every foot of the river." + +"Never a word," Lawrence agreed. + +They were a rather disconsolate pair as they pulled off their skates a +half hour later. + +"To think!" Johnny groaned. "I had my hands on five hundred dollars, +perhaps a thousand dollars worth of fox and had to drop it because it was +too hot." + +"The price of a tractor," Lawrence agreed. "It's too bad." + +It was too bad indeed. All day, five days in the week, they worked hard +at clearing land. The trees were coming down. After the spring thaw +thousands of stumps must be pulled. A tractor would do that work. After +that it would draw the plows. + +"If only I hadn't lost him!" Johnny groaned. + +"Aw! Forget it!" Lawrence exclaimed. "Come on! Let's go home by the +camp." + +The "camp," as they had come to call it, was a three-sided shelter built +on a corner of their forty-acre claim. It had been built, and apparently +abandoned, only a few months before their arrival. Such a snug shelter +was it that the boys had often sought its protection from storms. Once, +with a roaring fire before its open side, they had spent a night sleeping +on its bed of evergreen boughs. + +The place never lost its fascination. Who had built it? Trader, hunter, +trapper or gold prospector? To this question they could form no answer. +Would he some day return? To this, strangely enough on this very +afternoon they were to discover the answer, at least that which appeared +to be the answer. As they were looking it over for the twentieth time +Lawrence suddenly exclaimed, "Look! Here's a bit of cloth tacked to this +post. And there's a note written on it in indelible ink!" + +Johnny did look. "Read it!" he exclaimed. + +"I will," Lawrence began to read. "Can't quite make it out," he murmured. +"Oh, yes, this is it. + +"'I WILL BE BACK ON JULY 1st. BILL.'" + +"So he's coming back," Johnny's tone was strange. + +"Coming back," Lawrence agreed. "All right, Bill, old boy," he laughed. +"We'll keep your snug little camp ship-shape till you arrive." + +And for this bit of service, had they but known it, they were to receive +a very unusual reward. + + + + + CHAPTER II + BLACKIE'S STORY + + +"Tell us how you got that game leg of yours, Blackie," Joe Lawrence, the +Palmer store-keeper, said to Blackie, as they all sat about the roaring +steel-barrel stove three nights later. + +"Oh, that--" Blackie did not reply at once. + +Johnny and Lawrence were by the fire. They had walked in from the claim, +a frosty three miles, with the thermometer at twenty-five degrees below. +They were not the sort of boys who loaf about stores and pool halls, +listening to cheap talk. Far from that. They had come to make a purchase +or two and, in an hour, with the steel-blue stars above them would be on +their way home. Just now the fire felt good. + +"Sure, tell us," Johnny encouraged. + +"Hello! You here?" Blackie demanded, as if he had not seen them before. +"What'd you come in for on a night like this?" + +"Wedges," said Johnny. "Steel wedges for splitting logs." + +"Wedges." There came a hoarse laugh from the corner. It was Jack Mayhorn +who spoke. "Who wants wedges in this country? Do like I do. Cut down the +trees that split easy." + +"They've all got tough spots," Johnny replied quietly. "Where the limbs +have been cut off." + +"Oh, the knotty pines!" Jack laughed again. "Roll 'em into the fence row +an' leave 'em. That's the way we do." + +"We don't," said Lawrence. "We aim to take them as they come, tough or +not tough, they've got to bust." + +"Why?" Blackie fixed his piercing black eyes on the boy. + +"I--I don't know why," was Lawrence's slow reply. "I can't explain it +right." The boy hesitated. "But I--you know--I sort of hate being licked, +even by a tough log. So I--we sort of take 'em as they come." + +"That's great!" Blackie slapped his knee. "And I suppose you feel the +same way?" he asked of Johnny. + +"Sure do," was Johnny's prompt reply. "They can't come too tough for me." + +"Can't come too tough for little old Johnny." There was a sneer in Jack +Mayhorn's voice. "But he's afraid to set traps or carry a rifle." + +"Not afraid," Johnny replied quietly. "Just don't want to." + +"Tell us, Blackie," Joe, the store-keeper, broke in, sensing a possible +row, "tell us how you got that leg." + +Even then Blackie did not comply at once. Turning to the boys, he said in +a low tone, "You boys are dead right. No use letting a log or anything +else lick you." Dropping his voice still lower he added, "I might take +you with me next spring on that coast guard boat. I just might, that is, +if you still want to go." + +Then in a changed voice he said, "All right, Joe, I'll tell you all about +that leg of mine, though I'm not fond of doing it. It always makes me +hopping mad, just thinking about it. + +"You see," he went on at once, "I was up a river in Asia. Doesn't matter +which river. I was in the navy. Less than six months ago, although it +seems two years. I was on a small U. S. gunboat. What one? That doesn't +matter, either. She's at the bottom of the river now." He paused to stare +at the fire. + +"We were laying up the river. There was fighting down below. We'd come +up-river to get out of the way. The fighting was foolish enough, but none +of our business. + +"We were there to protect American citizens. There were twenty or more of +them on board, reporters and missionaries and the like. + +"I'd just come on duty when a big bombing plane came hovering, like a +vulture, over us. It circled off again. 'Good riddance,' I said to my +buddy. + +"I hadn't finished saying it when it came zooming back. This time higher +up and--" Blackie took a long breath. "The bloomin' infidels! What do you +think? They let go a bomb that missed us by inches. + +"You should have seen us scatter," Blackie laughed in spite of himself. + +And then, of a sudden, the lines between his eyes grew deep and long. +"They bombed us. They sank our ship. My buddy was killed. I caught it in +the leg. I got a lifeboat off, doing what I could to save the women. + +"Me," he faltered. "I'm no sort of a story teller. But I hope I'm +something of a fighter. This old leg will be good as new next spring. +And, sure's I'm living, I'm going hunting little brown men up there in +Bristol Bay. They stole a cool million dollars' worth of fish last +season. How many'll they get this year? That depends on the Coast Guard +men and, glory be! I'm one of them. I'm out of the navy, invalided home, +back on the good old job, and there'll be plenty of things a-popping in +May. + +"Er, excuse me, boys," he apologized. "That sounds an awful lot like +bragging. We didn't catch the Shadow that passes in the fog last season. +We didn't do those Orientals much harm, either. Too slick for us, I +guess. But wish me luck next time. The biggest industry in Alaska, the +run of red salmon, depends on us." + +"Here's luck," said Johnny, lifting a cup of coffee just poured by Joe's +motherly wife. "Here's luck to the service." + +"And may you be my buddy!" Blackie added. + +That night Johnny and Lawrence walked home in silence. The great white +world was all about them and the blue-white stars above. Their thoughts +were long, long thoughts. + +Arrived at their log cabin home, they dragged out a tattered map of +Alaska to study its shore-line and most of all the shores of Bristol Bay. + +"May," Lawrence said at last. "That's a long time yet." + +"Yes," Johnny agreed, "and there's plenty to get excited about tomorrow. +What do you say we turn in?" + + + + + CHAPTER III + FAT AND FURIOUS + + +Anyone who had watched the two boys skating slowly up the river next +morning would surely have been puzzled. Before them, now darting up a +steep bank and now scurrying along over the snow, were two brown, +fur-clad creatures. Neither dogs nor cats, they still appeared quite +domestic in their actions. Once when they had gone racing ahead too far +Johnny let out a shrill whistle and they came dashing back to peer up +into his face as if to say, "Did you call me?" + +"They're great!" Lawrence chuckled. "Got a dog beat a mile. They never +bark." + +"And yet they can find where wild creatures live," Johnny agreed. + +Just now, as you no doubt have guessed, the boys were looking for the +spot, under some great rock or at the foot of a tree, which the silver +fox called his home. + +"We must find him," Johnny had exclaimed only an hour before. + +"We surely must," Lawrence had agreed. + +And indeed they must, for three principal reasons. Last night the fox +had, by shrewd cunning, managed to pry the chicken coop door open and +made off with a rooster. The fox was worth a lot of money--they were sure +of this--dead or alive. They must get him before someone with a gun or +with traps got sight of him. And they must take him alive, if possible--a +very large contract. + +Their desires had been redoubled by something that had happened only the +night before. Mack Gleason, the settler whose claim joined them on the +west, had been in for a friendly chat. + +"Got your tractor yet?" he had asked of Mr. Lawson. + +"Not yet," had been the reply. + +"Well, you better hurry. They're going fast. May not be another shipment +until it is too late for spring's work." + +"No money just now." + +"Money!" Mack exploded. "Who said anything about money? Government gives +'em to you on time." + +"But time has a way of rolling around," Mr. Lawson had replied quietly. + +"Oh, the Government wouldn't be hard on you," Mack laughed. "Look at us. +We've got a washing machine and a buzz-saw, and a motor to run 'em, a +tractor, plow, harrow, everything, and all on time." + +"Yes, I know," had come in the same slow, quiet tones. "And I know the +Government won't be hard on you. Still it will want its money, same as +any loaning agency. It just has to be that way. + +"This week," Mr. Lawson went on after a moment, "I received a letter from +an old friend of mine. Few years back he secured a government loan on his +home. He didn't keep up the interest and payments. They took it from him. +Now he's unhappy about it. But people who borrow must pay. That's why +we're trying not to borrow." + +"And we won't, not if we can help it." Lawrence set his will hard as he +now followed those dark brown creatures over the ice. + +"Johnny," he said suddenly. "Do you think father should let us use +traps?" + +"I--I don't know," Johnny replied slowly. "But that, for us, is not the +question. Ours is, 'Have we a right to urge him to let us use them?' + +"And the answer is, 'No,'" he chuckled. "So we'll have to trust our +little old otters to lead the way. When they find Mr. Silver Fox for us +we'll have to grab him." + +"If only one of those trapping fellows doesn't get him first," Lawrence +said, wrinkling his brow. + +Early in the season, as, with dreamy eyes, the boys wandered over the +forty acres of land that was, they hoped, to be their home for years to +come, they had caught the low, whining notes of some small creatures +apparently in distress. + +"It comes from under that rock," Johnny had said. + +"No, over here beneath this dead tree trunk," Lawrence insisted. + +He was right. Having torn away the decayed stump, they had found two +round, brown balls of fur. These balls were baby otters. Taking them +home, they had raised them on a bottle. And now, here they were, paying +their debt by scouting about in search of the silver fox. + +Pets they were, the grandest in all the world. The happiest moments of +their young lives were these long hikes. Never once did it seem to occur +to them that it might be nice to desert their young masters and answer +the call of the wild. + +Now, as the boys followed them, they went gliding here and there peeking +into every crack and crevice of ice or frozen shore. From time to time +they poked their noses into some hole into which strange tracks had +vanished. After a good sniff they put their heads together and uttered +low whining noises. These noises varied with their opinions on the +condition of each particular hole. At times they appeared to shake their +heads and whine, "Too bad. He was here three hours ago. Now he's gone." + +At other times they put their noses in the air and sang triumphantly, +"He's there. He's right in that hole this minute." + +Had the boys been able to train their pets to go in the hole and frighten +out the prey, they might have held a moose-hide sack at the entrance to +each hole and added quite rapidly to their collection of living Arctic +animals. This, however, the otters would not do. They were not looking +for a fight. And indeed, why should they? They did not live upon +squirrels and muskrats, but upon fish. "We'll find 'em, you catch 'em," +seemed to be their motto. + +For the boys, finding the lair of the silver fox would not insure his +capture. It merely meant that they would know where he lived and would +watch that spot in the hope that he might come out on the ice in search +of food or a drink and that then they might come speeding in to grab him. + +"Look!" Lawrence exclaimed suddenly, "there are Old Silver's tracks!" + +"Yes, sir! He just cut in from the hill to the river. He--" Suddenly +Johnny broke off to peer upstream. + +"Something moving up there," he whispered. "Maybe--" + +But the otters had smelled the fox tracks and were off on swift tracking +feet. Johnny bent over to examine those tracks. + +"It's the old fellow or his brother," he murmured. "No other fox around +here has such large feet. Boy! He's a humdinger!" + +Once more his keen eyes swept the upper reaches of the river. "Huh!" he +grunted. "Whatever that was, it's vanished now." + +"Might as well follow the otters," Lawrence suggested. + +They did follow. Soft-footed in silence they tracked on for a mile. Up +banks and down again, over a ridge, back to the river. "Look at those +feathers!" Lawrence whispered. + +"Got a ptarmigan," said Johnny. "After that he should have made a bee +line for his lair." + +That was just what the fox had done. Straight as an arrow he had returned +to the stream, then he had sped away along its course until he came to a +huge gray rock. There the trail ended. And beneath this rock, according +to the verdict of the two singing otters, he must still lie fast asleep. + +"Good old otters!" Lawrence exclaimed in a hoarse whisper. + +"They've found us his hiding place," Johnny agreed. "And will we watch +it? We--" + +Suddenly he broke off short to point excitedly upstream. + +"A bear cub!" Lawrence exclaimed low. "He's going to cross the river." + +"We--we'll get on our sk-ates," said Johnny excitedly. "Then let's take +him." + +"Can we?" Lawrence was doubtful. + +"Sure! We'll lasso him and tie him up. He'll make a grand addition to our +zoo. Come on!" + +Swinging out on the shining ice, skating silently from the hips, the boys +glided like two dark ghosts toward the unsuspecting bear cub who, at that +moment, had started to cross a broad stretch of slippery ice. Sly silence +is, however, a game that two can play at. This the boys were to learn +very soon and to their sorrow. + +One day the boys had come, quite unexpectedly, upon a half-grown white +caribou, or perhaps it had been a reindeer, that had wandered down from +some far northern herd. However that might have been, they were filled +with regret at the thought that they were not equipped for capturing it +for their "zoo." From that time on they had carried lariats and, by way +of some added safety, short, stout spears. They were thus equipped today +as they sped swiftly, silently toward the bear cub. + +"I'll toss the lasso over his head, then you watch the fun," Johnny +chuckled. + +"I'll watch all right," Lawrence agreed. And he did. + +Slowly, clumsily, the young bear, no larger than a good-sized dog, made +his way across the ice. The wind was away from him. He could not smell +the intruders, nor was he aware of their presence until, with a sudden +rush, Johnny was upon him. + +Never will the boy forget the look of surprise that came over the young +bear's comical face as he stared straight into his eyes. The whole affair +was easy, too easy. He passed so close to the cub that he might have +touched him. He did not. Instead, he dropped his noose over his head, +pulled it tight, then, letting out slack, whirled about to face the cub. +What would the cub do about that? He was to know instantly. Throwing +himself back on his haunches, the cub began backing and pulling like a +balky horse. On his skates, Johnny was no match for him. All he could do +was to come along. To his further annoyance, he found that his lariat had +whirled about his wrist and tied itself into a knot. As long as the cub +kept the line tight he could not untie the knot. He did not quite relish +the idea of dashing up to the cub and saying, "By your leave, I'll untie +this knot." So, for the moment, he played into the cub's hand. + +Then the unexpected happened. With a grunt and a snarl of rage, a huge +black bear, the cub's mother beyond a possible doubt, dashed over a ridge +to come charging straight at Johnny and the cub. + +"Hey! Hey! Look out!" Lawrence shouted. "Drop your rope and beat it." + +"I--I can't," Johnny cried in sudden consternation. "He--he's got me +tied." + +"Tied!" Lawrence gasped. + +"It's 'round my wrist." Johnny watched wide-eyed while the huge mother +bear came tobogganing down the high, steep river bank. She hit the ice +like a bobsled and, dropping on hind legs and tail, came sliding straight +on. + +Just in time, Johnny came to his senses and began doing a back-stroke. +Only by inches did he miss the husky swing of the angry bear's paw. + +"Cut the rope," Lawrence shouted. + +"Al-all right, I'll--I'll cut it." Johnny dug into a pocket with his free +hand. A pocket knife. It must be opened. With one eye on the cub, who for +the moment sat whining, and the other upon the mother bear, who was +scrambling awkwardly to her feet, he had no eyes left for his knife. Just +as, having gripped the handle with one hand, the blade with the other, he +managed to open the knife, the cub, going into frenzied action, gave him +a sudden jerk that sent the knife spinning far out on the ice. + +"It's gone," he groaned. + +No more time for this. Old mother bear was after him. Fortunately this +old bear was heavy with fat. She had been preparing for a winter's sleep. +Still she could travel and she was fat and furious. Her skill as a skater +was something to marvel at. + +Since he could not escape from the rope, the only thing for Johnny to do +was circle. Circle he did. One time around with the bear at his heels; +two times around he had gained a little; three times around he caught the +gleam of his knife. Could he stoop and pick it up? He bent over, made a +reach for it, struck a crack with his skate and all but fell. + +"I--I'll get it next time," he breathed. + +To his surprise he found that next time the knife was well out of his +reach. Then to his utter horror, he saw that the perverse cub was +standing still, making an animated Maypole out of himself and that it +would be no time at all until the rope would be all wound around him. +They would meet face to face, cub, mother bear and boy. And after that? +He shuddered as he sped along that ever-narrowing circle. + +"I'm coming in," Lawrence shouted. + +"No, you--" + +Johnny could say no more. Lawrence was already in. Skating straight at +the bear to attract her attention, Lawrence shot past her and slapped her +sharply on the nose. + +It was a daring and effective endeavor. Turning with a snarl, completely +abandoning her cub at this fancied insult, the bear went after him with a +rush. + +That was all right as far as it went. The skating was good. The bear was +fast, but not fast enough to catch him. There is, however, an end to all +things. There was an end to that stretch of ice. It ended in a series of +rapids that were not frozen over. + +Lawrence groaned as he saw open water ahead. To his added terror, he saw +that the river narrowed at that point. That the bear could outrun him on +land he knew all too well. + +"Got to be an artful dodger," he told himself. + +At that moment how he rejoiced that he had trained himself as a hockey +skater. Swinging about in a half circle, he sped toward the right-hand +bank. But the bear was there ahead of him. + +Just as she reared up for a sledge-hammer blow, the boy whirled squarely +about and shot away to left. Again he was too late for a safe passage, +but not so much too late. He was gaining. Three more times, then with a +joyous intake of breath he shot past the bear and was away. + +In the meantime, Johnny, safe for the moment from the mother bear, had +hastily unwound the surprised cub, then had rushed him with such speed +that the rope was off his neck before he could lift a paw. The cub was +free. So was Johnny. And there were no regrets. + +"Johnny," said Lawrence as he joined his companion five minutes later, "I +don't think we want any bears in our zoo. They're too playful." They were +to change their minds about this, but that was to come sometime later. + +"That," said Johnny with a chuckle, "was almost funny." + +"Yes," Lawrence agreed, "almost." He did not laugh. "Almost, but not +quite." + +A moment later he exclaimed, "Johnny! Where are the otters? We can't lose +them." + +"They'll probably hunt us up. They--" Johnny broke off short. "Look!" he +murmured low. "Look! There's the silver fox. He's out of his hole. +He--he's going to cross the ice." + +Lawrence glanced back to the spot where the bears had been. They had +vanished. "This time," he whispered, "we'll get that old silver fox. We +simply must." + + + + + CHAPTER IV + THE CAPTURE OF OLD SILVER + + +Johnny felt his pulse quicken as he sped along over the ice. The silver +fox had come out of the hole. There could be no doubt of that. Would he +dodge back in again or would he start across the ice? + +"If he starts!" the boy breathed. + +He must not be too fast nor too sure. Last time he had muffed a glorious +chance. Slowing up, he slid in behind a clump of elders and came to a +standstill. There, gripping a shrub, he stood trembling like a butterfly +ready for flight. + +As for Lawrence, he was coming on more slowly. Naturally more cautious +than his cousin, he had an eye out for trouble. That fat old mother bear +might still be lurking among the ridges. He had not forgotten how she had +come charging down upon them. + +"Can't take unnecessary chances," he told himself. "Life is wonderful. I +am sure that taking unnecessary chances is wrong. It is making light of +God's great gift to us--life." + +Ah, yes, it was good to live just now. For the first time in their lives +his little family felt sure of having a home of their own. As he glided +slowly along he thought of the summer's struggle. At first it had been +damp and bitterly cold. Then the sun had been hot and the mosquitoes had +come in swarms. + +Through all this they had labored on; father, mother, and these two stout +boys. It was said that gangs of men would be along to clear patches of +land and build cabins. To this they had not listened. "We came to make +our own way," they insisted. "We are pioneers. Pioneers must work." + +When garden and potato patches were planted they had started the cabin. +Selecting, from near and far, trees that were dead but not decayed, they +had built a cabin whose walls would not warp and shrink as would those +built of green timber. + +Later, in the autumn when sharp winds told of a long winter ahead, they +had cut squares of tough sod and piled them about the cabin until it +seemed a sod house. When the question of a heating stove had arisen, they +had discovered an abandoned gasoline barrel, had cut one hole for a door, +another for the stove-pipe, had done a little drilling and riveting, and +thus had made a stove that, fed on crackling fir logs, laughed at the +Arctic cold. + +"Pioneers!" he whispered. "We are pioneers." How he loved that thought. + +Of a sudden his attention was drawn from past to present by Johnny's +beckoning hand. With a quick twisting glide, he moved silently forward +until he was at his companion's side. + +"Look," Johnny gripped his arm. "There is the fox. He hasn't started +across yet and--" + +"And there are the otters!" Lawrence broke in with a shrill whisper. + +"Yes," Johnny agreed. "That's the queer part of it. They came just so +close to the fox, then seemed to shout something at him." + +"Like one boy daring another to come out and fight," Lawrence laughed +low. + +"Yes, or inviting him to a game of tag," whispered Johnny. "And look! +There he goes! There goes the fox! Good old otters! They are +helping--helping a lot." + +He had spoken the truth, the fox was after one of the otters. + +"Little good it will do him," Lawrence chuckled. "Those otters are more +at home on ice and in water than on land." + +"Listen!" Johnny's voice was tense now. His figure stiffened. "In a +minute I'm going after him. I've got the bag. If I get him I'll pop him +inside. I won't miss now. You just follow along slowly. I might need +you." + +"Al-all right," the younger boy agreed. + +There might have been boys who would have said, "This is my turn. You +muffed last time." Not so Lawrence. All too well he knew the skill and +natural daring of his cousin. And, after all, in their little family the +rule had ever been, "Each for all and all for each." So he watched his +cousin glide silently out for one more adventure. + +Ten seconds later in watching the little drama of wild life being played +there on the ice, he had all but forgotten Johnny. Never before had he +seen the tame otters put on such a clever show. Just as the larger one +had so far escaped the onrush of the fox that he was becoming +discouraged, the small otter, with cunning and extreme daring, slipped up +and all but shouted in the fox's ear. At once, the now thoroughly angered +fox turned to dash after this second intruder. + +No sooner had the first otter been abandoned than he turned about to +begin slipping up on the fox to dare him for one more race. + +"For all the world like a game of tag!" Lawrence murmured. + +All this was aiding Johnny, though it is to be doubted whether the otters +knew the value of their antics. The fox was being led farther and farther +out on the ice. At the same time his attention was so held by this +strange game that he was almost certain to miss catching sight of the boy +who now glided closer, ever closer to him. + +"Good old otters!" Johnny repeated in a whisper as, drawing his +moose-hide mittens tight, he prepared for the final dash. + +"He's going after him," Lawrence thought as, with a thrill shooting up +his spine, he glided from his sheltered spot, ready, if need be, to come +in on the finish. + +With a suddenness that must have been startling to the keenest eyes, +Johnny swept down upon the fox and the otters. Did the otters see him? +Beyond doubt. They saw everything. But the fox? For once he was caught +quite unawares. One startled look, a quick squatting down on the ground, +and Johnny was at his side. Before the fox could relax from this stiff +pose, Johnny's hands, like a brass collar, were about his neck. + +"You got him!" Lawrence shouted, springing into action. "You got him! +Hurray!" + +Then a terrible thing happened. Overjoyed at their great good fortune, +Lawrence for the moment lost his bearing. Of a sudden his skate struck +ice that crunched ominously. He tripped to go plunging forward into the +black waters of the racing river. He had fallen into an open pool. + +"I'll drown," he thought, as, in an involuntary manner, he struck out +with his hands in a swimming motion. All too late he saw ice ahead. Next +instant he was beneath the river's ice. + +Johnny saw all this. With a gasp of terror he all but dropped the fox. +Then, scarcely knowing what he did, he thrust the fox as if he were his +mother's fur scarf, into the moose-hide bag, drew the strings tight, then +shot away toward the spot from which his cousin had vanished. + +As Lawrence shot beneath the ice, life seemed near its end. Yet there had +never been a time when life had seemed so real and so joyous as now. For +a second panic gripped him. Holding his breath, he tried to think. + +In an instant his mind was clear. He knew what he should do. There were +two open pools farther on. How far? He did not know exactly. Could he +hold his breath till then? He must hope. And he must try to move over +closer to the shelving bank. If he reached the pool he might then touch +bottom. + +Desperately he struggled to draw himself over to the left. His head +hummed. His lungs were bursting, his heart pounding. + +"It--it's the end," he thought. + +And then, up he popped. Just in time, as his feet touched, he gripped the +edge of the ice and held there. Ten agonizing seconds he clung there, +then a voice shouted, "Hold on, I'm coming." + +Ten seconds more and Johnny, who had leaped to the bank and raced along +it, reached out to grip his mackinaw. + +"Now!" he shouted. "Out you come." And out he came. + +Weak from excitement and exhaustion, he lay there for a time motionless. + +"This won't do," Johnny exclaimed at last. "We've got to get going. +Here," he dragged the sodden mackinaw from his cousin's shoulders, then +put his own sheep-lined coat in its place. After putting his own dry +mittens on Lawrence's hands, he pulled him to his feet. + +"It's you for skates and the ice, then home as fast as ever you can." He +pushed him on before him. + +As his skates touched the ice Lawrence felt new warm blood racing through +his veins. He was off with the speed of the wind. And after him, with a +moose-hide sack dangling at his side and filled with one very angry +silver fox, came his loyal, anxious yet joyous friend and cousin, Johnny. + +The day, for this part of the world, was not extremely cold. Lawrence's +trousers froze into pipe-like forms, but his sturdy, youthful body +resisted the cold and sent him speeding on his way. + +Dropping down on the river bank at last, they dragged off their skates to +take the usual short cut through the timber. + +As he passed the carefully built shelter beside that narrow stream, +Johnny recalled the note tacked to a post and wondered afresh whether the +mysterious Bill would arrive, just as the note said he would, on July +1st. + +"Who do you suppose he left that note for?" he exclaimed suddenly. + +"Haven't--the--slightest-notion," Lawrence panted, still racing along. +"One--thing--is--sure. I'm--going--to--be--there--when that day comes." + +"We'll both be there," Johnny agreed. Somehow, as he thought of it, in a +strange way it seemed that Bill and the silver fox must in some way be +associated with each other. "Pure moonbeams," he assured himself, yet the +thought remained in the back of his mind. + +There is something in the north that is called "Grapevine telegraph." +This name is given to the mysterious means by which, in a land devoid of +telephone and telegraph, news travels fast and far. Was it this unreal +telegraph that, six hours later, as Lawrence, none the worse for his +experience, lay before the roaring fire, brought a stranger to their +door? Who can say? Be that as it may, there he was. + +"Excuse me for intruding," said the tall, smiling stranger as he brushed +the snow from his moccasins. "I heard you'd got a silver fox and I just +had to have a look at him. It's been three years since I saw one. I'm Jim +Clem. Got a claim over on the other side of the settlement." + +"You--you've seen silver foxes." Johnny was on his feet. + +"Hundreds of 'em." The stranger smiled. + +"Hun-hundreds," Johnny stammered. "I thought they were rare." + +"Used to be," admitted Jim Clem. "Still are, fairly so. Did you get a +good one?" + +"Yes, I--well," Johnny whirled about. "I'll show you." Opening the back +door, he dragged in a small wire cage. "We just put him in this for a +little while," he half apologized. + +"Oh! He's alive. Hurt much?" Jim asked. + +"Not hurt at all." + +"Not hurt?" Jim stared. "How'd you catch him?" + +"With my hands," Johnny chuckled. Then, seeing that this would not stand +as a bare statement, he explained briefly their method of capture. + +"Say-ee," Jim exclaimed, dropping into a chair, "you're regular natives. +And that's a fine specimen. Time was when you'd get two thousand dollars +for him." + +"Yes, we--" + +"But not now," Jim broke in. "Never again. Know much about foxes?" + +"No, we--" + +"Then, I'll tell you." Jim settled back in his chair. "I worked on a +silver fox farm for three years. 'Million Dollar Farm,' they called it. +And that's what it was. Raised only silver foxes. + +"But you don't get that way all at once," he laughed. "Not by a great +deal. Take that fellow you got there. Suppose you find him a mate and +decide to start raising silver foxes. Pretty soon you'd have a lovely lot +of cute little fox cubs. But would they be silver foxes? Not one. That's +almost certain." + +"Not one?" Lawrence sat up. + +"That's it," Jim agreed. "You'd get two or three little red foxes and, +with great luck, a cross fox, that's all." + +"You see," he leaned forward, "a silver fox is a freak, just as a +half-white robin is. If a half-white robin hatches his eggs his young +ones are likely to be jolly little robin redbreasts, nothing more. + +"Only by keeping foxes for years and years can you at last hope to raise +pure silver foxes. That takes thousands and thousands of dollars. Four +brothers went in for that in a big way years ago. Last year they sold +13,000 pelts for more than $1,000,000. And that," he added, "figures up +to something like $77.00 apiece." + +"That's what our fox is worth," Lawrence groaned. "And we'd have to kill +him to get that?" + +"Oh, sure," Jim grinned. "But truly," his face sobered, "that's the tough +part about fox farming. In the end you've got to kill 'em, so some fine +lady can drape their skins about her neck." + +"I'd never sell ours to a fox farm," Lawrence said with conviction. + +"How about selling him alive to some zoo?" Johnny asked hopefully. + +"Don't know very much about that," Jim replied slowly. "I wouldn't hope +too much. There are 5,000 fox farms these days. And they raise some +beauties. + +"But if you mean to keep this fellow alive," he added, "you want to get a +wooden barrel and make it into a den for him. Pack it all 'round with +chaff and moss to make it warm. Then build him a wire pen all about it. +He'll get along fine if you do that. + +"I'll have to trot along." He rose to go. "Come and see me. I'll tell you +more about 'em. They're interesting no end, foxes are." He bade them +goodnight. + +"Well," Johnny drawled slowly, "Old Silver won't buy us a tractor, that's +sure." + +"No," said Lawrence. "But we can learn a lot about him and we can at +least keep him from eating our chickens. Don't give up the ship. We'll +happen onto something yet." + +There are other rewards than money in this life of ours. Remarkable +achievement of any sort usually brings us kind words of deserved praise +from our fellowmen. It was so with Johnny and Lawrence. More than one +settler had suffered from the night raids of Old Silver. Now that he was +in prison his captors were highly praised. + +Still the problem remained; should they give up their dream of complete +independence and go in debt for a tractor? + +"I think you'd better," said Johnny. "There are only a few left and they +are going fast." + +"There'll always be the Titan," Lawrence laughed. + +"Yes, the Titan," Johnny agreed. "But who could ever pay for that +tractor?" + +The Titan was a powerful new type of tractor. Only one had been brought +on and that one was priced at a cool thousand dollars. + +"We'll wait a little longer," was Mr. Lawson's decision. "The tide of +fortune may turn our way." + + + + + CHAPTER V + JOHNNY FIGHTS FOR FUN + + +News travels fast in the north. When the time came for the boys to make +one more journey to the store at Palmer everyone had heard of their +catch. + +"Here they come," someone shouted as, stamping the snow from their feet, +they entered the smoke-filled room. + +"Here they come. They bring 'em back alive!" someone else shouted. + +"Well," Lawrence drawled, "we bring them anyway. Got two minks today. +That's two more that won't carry off folks' chickens." + +"I hear you boys got a silver fox." There was a suggestion of antagonism +in Jack Mayhorn's voice as he said this. + +"Yes," Johnny replied. "And we've still got him." + +"Do you know, fellows," Jack gave vent to a chuckle that seemed a little +strained, "back in Michigan, where I lived on the shores of Lake +Superior, there was a feller who used to go lake-trout fishin'. He +trolled with an out-board motor. Always got 'em, too, a whale of a fine +catch. + +"But you know," he edged forward in his chair, "there was net fishermen +there, too. Fished fer a living. And one day when we was lookin' over +this sportin' fellow's catch, the fish he claimed he'd caught trollin' we +found had net marks on 'em." + +"Net marks?" someone said. + +"Sure." There was a shifty look in Jack's eyes. "He'd been liftin' nets +an' helping himself to the fish that didn't belong to him. And I was +wonderin'," he paused, "just wonderin', Johnny, if that silver fox of +yours mebby had a lame foot or--or somethin'." + +The silence that followed was painful. Johnny made no reply. His fingers +worked along his palm, that was all. + +It was Blackie Dawson who spoke at last. "I take it, Jack," he spoke +slowly, "you are insinuating that these boys took the fox from your trap. +Let me tell you, old man, that sort of thing calls for a fight; in the +north it does." + +Jack made no reply, but Johnny did. + +"I'm sorry," he said, speaking slowly. "It doesn't mean a fight to me." + +"You won't fight?" Blackie stared at him. + +"Not to settle a personal grudge," Johnny replied slowly. "If Jack wants +to think we took the fox from his trap, that's his privilege. If he would +like to examine the fox that's his privilege also. But I'm not going to +beat him up just to make him take back something he's said. That might +seem to be a point of honor but we all have our own codes of honor. It +may seem queer but I'd rather take an insult than give someone a +beating." + +"Take a beating you mean," Jack sneered. He was nearly twice Johnny's +size. + +"Joe," said Johnny, turning to the store-keeper, "you told me you got two +pairs of boxing gloves through the mail." + +"Sure, Johnny, I did. Here they are." Reaching behind him the +store-keeper drew out two pairs of gloves. + +"Put 'em on, Johnny," Blackie encouraged. + +"Put 'em on! Put 'em on!" came from all over the room. There was a stir +of expectancy in the air. + +"Sure, I'll put them on," Johnny grinned. "What do you say, Joe? I'll box +you five rounds. Five friendly bouts for fun, money or marbles." + +The crowd stared, Johnny was talking not to the man who had offered the +insult but to his friend the store-keeper. + +For a moment Joe stood staring at him. Then, as the light of a smile +spread over his face, he said, "Sure, Johnny, I'll box you, not for money +or marbles, but just, you might say, for fun." + +It will be a long time before the settlers of Matanuska Valley will again +witness such a match as followed. Five rounds for fun, between friends? +Yes, perhaps. And yet there were times when even Johnny doubted that. +True, he was not angry for a moment, just in there doing his best. But +Joe? He was wondering about him. + +Though he had told no one in the valley about it, Joe had, only the year +before, belonged to the U. S. Marines. The Marines neither give nor ask +quarters. And Joe had been champion of his regiment. As for Johnny, well +you know Johnny. If you don't, you should have been there that night. + +From the start it was leather against leather, a slap for the chin, a +thrust at the heart, a bang on the side of the head, and after that a +clinch. + +Seldom had men been more evenly matched. Joe was older, more experienced, +Johnny younger, faster on his feet. + +They had not been going a minute when an involuntary ring had formed +about them. In that ring, gaping open-mouthed was Jack Mayhorn. + +Twice Johnny was down on a knee. Each time he was up and at it. Once, +backed into a corner, Joe tripped and fell. He, too, was up before the +count of three. + +The fifth round was wild. Had there been an announcer, he must surely +have lost his mind calling, "A right to Johnny's chin, a left to his ear. +The ear is bleeding. Oh--a! A slam on the side of Joe's head that makes +him slightly groggy. Johnny's following through. The clinch! The referee +(Blackie) separates them. They are sparring now. Now! Oh, now! Johnny +takes one on the chin. He's down. One--two--three--He's up again." So it +went to the end. + +As the cowbell, rung by young Larry Hooker, announced the close of the +round, the crowd went wild with enthusiasm, but Joe, seizing Johnny by +the glove, dragged him into the kitchen at the back of the store. + +"Boy, you're a whiz!" he exclaimed. "There was a time or two when I +thought you had me." He was mopping Johnny's face with a wet towel. + +"Not a chance," Johnny laughed. "I didn't know what I was stepping into +but I did my best." + +"Listen," Joe held up a hand. The tumult in the outer room had died down. +Blackie Dawson was about to make a short speech. "Gentlemen," he was +saying, "the day after tomorrow at early candle light, there'll be +another boxing bout in this room. It will be between--" he +paused--"between Jack Mayhorn and--he--he has a choice--Johnny Thompson +or Joe Lawrence." + +"No!" a voice fairly roared after the shouts had subsided, "I got a bad +foot. My footwork, it ain't no good at all." It was Jack Mayhorn who +spoke. + +"So it's _your_ foot that's bad and not that silver fox's foot?" Blackie +bantered. + +The crowd let out a roar that could have been heard a mile. + +"That'll about fix Jack Mayhorn," said Joe. "He's not likely to bother +you much now." + +An hour later, when the customers had "cleared out and gone home," Johnny +and Lawrence found themselves in Joe's kitchen. Blackie and Joe were +there. So was Mrs. Joe. They were all eating huckleberry pie and drinking +hot chocolate. + +"Johnny," said Joe, feeling a plaster on his chin, "why did you do it?" + +"Do what?" Johnny stared. + +"Pick on me for a fight. I never done you no wrong." + +"That's why," was Johnny's astonishing reply. "It's an old Eskimo +custom." + +"What is?" They all stared at him. + +"According to the Eskimo law," Johnny went on soberly, "if you are going +to be killed it has to be done by a near relative or very close friend. +So-o--" he added with a spreading grin, "I thought you'd do as well as +anyone. And you did--even better." + +"Anyway," Blackie supplemented after their laugh was over, "folks in +Matanuska Valley will know who among us can put up a good scrap and that +always helps." + +When one is young he thinks only of the present and the future, never of +the past. As the two boys walked home that night, they thought much of +the future. The bond of friendship between them and Blackie Dawson was +growing stronger every day. When spring came, would they go booming away +with him on a Coast Guard boat in search of adventure in Bristol Bay? Who +could tell? + +In the meantime there was work to be done, plenty of it. Some twenty +acres of land was yet to be cleared. In the spring stumps must be pulled. +Without a tractor this would mean back-breaking labor. + +"Perhaps we can get more foxes?" Lawrence said, thinking out loud. + +"Yes, and other wild creatures," Johnny added. "That country 'back of the +beyond' has never even been explored. There must be wild life back there +that's never been seen. Peary found white reindeer on one of his +expeditions. Who can tell what we'll come upon if we keep up our search?" + +Who, indeed? The boy had spoken more wisely than he knew. + + + + + CHAPTER VI + SMOKEY JOE'S BLUE BEARS + + +Johnny awoke with a start. What had wakened him? He could not say for +sure. He had a feeling that it had been a human voice, perhaps a shout. + +Propping himself up on one elbow he listened intently. There came no +sound save the long-drawn distant howl of a wolf. "Must have dreamed it," +he murmured as he drew deep into the caribou-skin bed. + +The night was cold, bitter cold. It was dark. Like chilled white +diamonds, stars glistened in the sky. "What a change a few hours can +make," he thought. They were sleeping in the mysterious Bill's shelter, +he and Lawrence. + +Why were they sleeping in this cheerless shelter? Warm beds awaited them +at home. When one is young he does not need too good an answer for the +thing he does. Both Johnny and Lawrence were born scouts. They loved the +sharp tang of cold on their cheeks, followed by the quick glow of a +campfire. The smell of wood-smoke, deer steak broiled over coals, dreamy +hours just sitting before the fire, not talking, just thinking, all these +were a joy to them. So they liked to get away for a night. Bill's camp +was a convenient place. + +Johnny did not fall asleep at once, instead his mind was crowded with +dreamy thoughts. + +Perhaps Bill was a gold prospector. Perhaps he had discovered gold. Then +when he returned to this camp, they might all go tramping away to find +the spot and stake out claims. + +"That would ruin the settlement," he told himself. "People would desert +their dreams of making homes for brighter, more illusive dreams of +wealth. And yet--" What did he wish? He could not tell. + +When they had retired for the night the moon had been shining, a bright +fire gleamed before their shelter. Now all was gloomy and cold. Should he +rekindle the fire? "No. Too chilly," he shuddered. "Wait till morning." + +The days that had gone before had been uneventful ones. More and more he +had come to realize that they must have a tractor. Long hours they had +worked clearing timber. Brush was burned. But wood must be saved for +fires, for buildings and fences. Every day saw larger piles of wood on +the cleared land. + +"With a tractor and a stout sled we'd have it hauled home in no time," +Lawrence had said to his father. "Without it--" + +"Wait a little longer," his father had counseled. + +So they were waiting and tonight, sleeping in Bill's shelter, they were +still waiting. + +So Johnny thought and dreamed until at last he fell asleep. + +Perhaps he slept an hour, perhaps less or more. Then he awoke with a +suddenness that set his senses reeling. + +"Law-Lawrence!" he shouted in wild consternation. "The bear! The bear!" + +Something solid and heavy as a bear had landed with all but crushing +weight on his chest. It still rested there but did not move. + +"That's no bear," said a gruff, good-natured voice. "That's my pack. +Sorry! Didn't know you was here." + +"Lawrence!" Johnny exclaimed. "It's Bill!" + +"Not Bill neither," the stranger disagreed. "They call me Smokey Joe." + +"Smokey Joe!" Johnny peered into the darkness, trying to get a look at +the man's face. "Smokey Joe. I've heard of you." + +And he surely had. Smokey was a well-known character in the valley. The +old-timers told how he came and went. Always in search of gold, he would +disappear for months. + +"Then," one of the motherly women added, "just when we think he's gone +for good, up he pops again. We feed him up and patch his clothes. Then, +like some boy, he's off again. + +"But he's no boy," she added. "He came to Alaska in the gold rush of +'97." + +"Eighteen-ninety-seven!" Johnny had exclaimed. "More than forty years +ago!" + +"He never left," the gray-haired lady had added. "He came from the +Cumberland Mountains somewhere and he still speaks in their queer way. + +"They say," she added with a lowered voice, "that he struck it rich once, +had nearly half a million dollars, and that he's got some of it hid away +in the hills somewhere. But, then," she sighed, "you can't believe +anything you hear and only half you see in Alaska. Alaska is a place of +wild dreams." + +Johnny was recalling all this as he made haste to split dry wood into +fine pieces, whittle some shavings, then light a blaze in their +out-of-doors fireplace. + +"It's about morning," he said, at last looking into Smokey Joe's seamed +face. "Did you come far?" + +"Been travelin' mighty nigh all night," the old man drawled. "Me and my +hounds here." He nodded at three powerful dogs, already curled up on the +snow for a sleep. "Right smart cold up yonder. Hit's a sight better here +in the bottoms." + +"We'll have coffee before you know it," Johnny said cheerily. "Coffee and +sour-dough flap-jacks." + +"Ah," the old man sucked in his breath. "Sour dough flap-jacks. They +shore do stick to yer ribs. Reckon Smokey Joe's the flapjack eatinest +feller you almost ever seed." + +Lawrence grinned. This old man spoke a strange language. + +"A bear!" Smokey chuckled. "You all thought I were a bear! That's right +smart quare." + +"We almost caught a cub," Johnny explained. "Caught him alive, I mean." + +"Almost." Lawrence laughed. "But his mother objected." + +"Bears," said the old man, blinking at the fire. "Back thar in them thar +glaciers thar's bears you might nigh wouldn't believe the plain truth +about." + +"Why?" Johnny sat up. "What's strange about them?" + +"Might nigh everythin's quare, I reckon. Hm," the old man sniffed the +coffee, "smells powerful good." + +"It'll be boiled in a minute or two," said Johnny. "But tell me about +those bears." + +"They're blue, plumb blue, like a thin sky." The old man struggled for +words. "They're right smart woolly like sheep, I reckon. But they ain't +sheep. God-a-mighty, narry a bit of it. One of them clawed my lead dog +like tarnation. An' they're the fish-eatinest critters you most ever +seed." + +"Polar bears?" Johnny suggested. + +"Polar bears, big as good-sized hounds!" Smokey sniffed. "Who's ever +hearn tell of sech polar bears?" + +Who indeed? Johnny was growing excited and confused. "Woolly, blue bears +no bigger than dogs," he was thinking. "What kind of bears could they +be?" + +In his confusion he upset the coffeepot and spilled half its contents. +For all this, there was plenty left. Smokey Joe drank it piping hot, ate +in a ravenous manner. Then, springing to his feet and calling to his +dogs, declared he must get down to Palmer for a new pack of grub. + +"He's found a trace of color in some dashing stream that doesn't freeze, +not even in winter," was Johnny's conclusion. "He's going to hotfoot it +right back and get rich--maybe." + +"But, Johnny," Lawrence was not smiling, "do you really suppose there are +any such bears as he described?" + +"Of course not," was Johnny's prompt reply. + +"But, Johnny, if there were, if we caught one alive! No bigger than a +dog. We could do it, Johnny. We could buy a tractor." + +"Forget it. It's all a pipe dream, I tell you." + +But Lawrence did not forget Smokey Joe's blue bears, nor, in the end, did +Johnny. + + + + + CHAPTER VII + A STRANGE BATTLE + + +Shortly after noon of that same day a slim, bright-eyed man in a huge +beaver overcoat drove up to the Lawson cabin. Johnny and Lawrence, who +were about to go back to their wood cutting, stared at him. + +"Hello, boys," was his surprising greeting. "I hear you bring 'em back +alive." + +"Why, yes, we--Sometimes we do," Johnny replied in confusion. + +"Blackie Dawson told me about you." + +"Oh, Blackie." Johnny's face brightened. + +"I am in the animal business," the man explained, alighting from his +hired sled and allowing Lawrence to lead his horse away. "I thought you +boys might help me a little." + +"Help you? Oh, sure!" Things were looking better and better. "Here's +where we get a start," Johnny was thinking. + +"What have you?" the man asked. + +"Well, er--mister--" + +"They call me Professor Ormsby," said the stranger. "You may call me what +you please." + +"Well, then, Professor," Johnny went on, "we have a silver fox, a +perfectly keen fox." + +"Caught in a trap, I suppose?" + +"No. By hand." + +"By hand!" The Professor stared. "How do you do it?" + +Johnny told him in as few words as possible and with no dramatics at all, +just how it was done. + +"Oh, I say!" the Professor exclaimed. "That's great! You took a chance +with that fox. But, let me see--No-o, I can't use a silver fox. How about +beavers?" + +"We haven't taken any beaver. We--well, we were afraid it might be +against the law even to catch them alive." + +"I have a government permit," said the Professor. "But if you haven't any +beaver--" + +"Catching beaver would be easy. We have a grand colony not three miles +away," Lawrence put in. "We might--" + +"How about mink?" Johnny asked. "We have some fine ones. Or snow-shoe +rabbits?" + +"I suggest that you eat the rabbits," the Professor laughed. "I'll have a +look at your mink. But beaver! There's your main chance. Can't you get me +some? Big ones, the bigger the better. + +"You see," he smiled, "we think we're really doing good through this +work. In the big cities, hot in summer and cold in winter and crowded +always, there are hundreds of thousands of children who would never know +what a woodchuck, a monkey, a beaver or a bear looked like if they didn't +see them in a zoo. Brings real joy to them, I'm sure. Many's the fellow +who dates his first real interest in the wide out-of-doors to his visit +at the zoo." + +"Yes, I--" Johnny had scarcely heard him. "Could we do it?" he was asking +himself. He was thinking of beaver. "Why not? Thousands and thousands of +city children." His head was in a whirl. + +"I think," he tried to make his voice seem very cheerful, "I think we can +supply the beaver. Can't we, Lawrence?" + +"What? Yes. Oh, yes," Lawrence replied. + +"One of them must be a big one, a real boss of the village," warned the +Professor. + +"We've got him," Johnny laughed uncertainly. "Napoleon himself." + +"Yes. Oh, yes. We've got him, all right," Lawrence did not laugh. + +Strangely enough, as a short time later the boys went away on one more +"Bring 'em back alive hunt" there was no spring in their step. Their +faces were sober. If they succeeded this one more time, the coveted +tractor would be within their grasp, and yet they appeared anything but +happy. + +"Might even get the Titan," Lawrence tried to tell himself. This boy +loved fine machinery and that Titan tractor was a beauty. It had power, +plenty of it. With it they could not only pull stumps and plow fields for +themselves, but do work for other settlers on shares and, in quiet times, +they could work on the road. "Four live beavers," he thought. "That's all +it takes." Yes, that was all it took, and yet-- + +Up a small stream that flows into the Matanuska River early in the year +the boys had discovered a beaver colony. Many an hour they had spent +watching these busy beavers. Never in all their lives had they seen such +feats of engineering done by creatures of the wild. + +There were at least sixty beavers in the group. One big fellow, weighing +sixty pounds or more, was the leader. He was the boss contractor. And +such a boss as he was! + +"Napoleon," they had named him. He stood for hours, as the great little +general is pictured, straight, stiff and soldier-like. To him came the +others. Were there trees to be felled? Two lieutenants came marching +soberly up to him. They talked earnestly, nodding their heads, like real +people, then off they rushed to start a dozen beavers doing the work. + +It was so in everything. Most interesting of all had been the building of +the big dam. This work, the boys understood, must be rushed. Winter would +come. Ice would freeze two feet thick. The level of the stream must be +raised to six feet so the beaver tribe could use the water beneath as a +highway all winter long. The water must be dammed up. + +This dam building, done under the wise direction of old Napoleon, had +progressed rapidly for a time, then a sudden freshet of water loosened +some of the beams and the whole affair threatened to go down stream. + +"What'll they do now?" Lawrence had asked. + +"Wait and see," was Johnny's answer. + +Old Napoleon sent his men, like sub-engineers, all over the dam, making a +study of conditions. Then, apparently abandoning all this work, he +ordered a new dam built a hundred feet farther down stream. + +But did he truly abandon his first work? Not a bit of it. He and his crew +built just enough of a dam below to raise the water and relieve the +pressure from the original dam. Then, with an air of professional pride, +Napoleon returned to his old post and the work was well completed before +frost. + +"He," Johnny thought to himself, "is the friend we mean to capture and +sell into slavery, Old Napoleon." Little wonder that his heart was heavy. +"Old Napoleon," he whispered once again. + +But what was this? As they neared the beaver colony where they were sure +to find Napoleon out sunning himself, they caught sight of some creature +skulking through the brush. + +"It's a wolf," Johnny whispered. "Let's follow him." + +Follow him they did, and to their consternation saw that he was headed +for the beaver colony. + +"We'd better frighten him away," Lawrence whispered. "He'll drive all the +beavers beneath the ice. Then we won't be able to lasso a single one." + +This, Johnny knew, was good advice, but for some reason scarcely known to +himself, he said, "Let's wait." + +When at last they caught sight of the beaver village, they saw old +Napoleon standing stiff and straight as ever in his place. He was having +a sun bath. + +After sneaking along through the brush, the wolf made a dash at the +beaver. + +"He'll kill him," Lawrence whispered. + +Did he? Strange to say, as the wolf came near, the beaver did not stir +from his place. This appeared to surprise the wolf, who did not at once +rush in for the kill. Sneaking up close, he made a dash at the beaver, +but stopped just short of his goal. Still the beaver did not move. To the +boys this seemed strange. Their respect for the old fellow grew by leaps +and bounds. He appeared to be saying, "What's a wolf that one should fear +him?" + +"He--he's great!" Johnny shrilled. + +"Magnificent," Lawrence agreed. + +Snarling low, the wolf began dashing and snapping at the beaver. Each +snap made him bolder. Now his ugly jaws were three feet from the +apparently defenseless hero of wild life, who had decided to give his +life for his home and his people. Now he was only two feet away. And now +only a foot. + +"We--we'd better step in," came from Lawrence. + +"Wait," Johnny gripped his arm hard. Perhaps he should stop the wolf, but +he waited, fascinated. + +"Now!" Lawrence caught his breath. The end, he was sure, had come. + +And then, of a sudden, things did happen, but not in accord with +expectations. Old Napoleon had chisel-shaped teeth that cut wood like a +hatchet. Without a sound, as the wolf, having grown bold, snapped in his +very face, he shot forward to close those murderous teeth over the wolf's +closed jaws. + +"Great Scott!" Johnny muttered. + +The struggle that followed was fast and furious. Kicking and scratching, +the wolf rolled over and over, but not once did Napoleon's locked grip +loosen. It was only when his opponent, completely exhausted and all but +smothered, lay limp at his side, that he at last pried his own jaws apart +to climb awkwardly to his place in the sun. Instantly the wolf dragged +himself to his feet, to go slinking away into the brush. + +For one full minute the boys stood there motionless. When Lawrence spoke +his voice was husky. "Johnny, I've often suspected old Napoleon of being +a tyrant. He's lazy, too. I've never seen him do a lick of work. But he +is one swell engineer and a grand boss." + +"What's more, he's no coward," Johnny added. + +"Johnny, I can't do it," Lawrence dangled his lasso. + +"Neither can I," said Johnny. "Let's go." + +Turning, they made their way in silence down the narrow stream to its +mouth. There they dropped down upon the snow to put on their skates. + +"Johnny," said Lawrence, "we're a pair of old softies." + +"That's right," said Johnny. "But I don't mind, do you?" + +"Not a bit. Let's go." + + +"Get 'em?" the Professor asked as they came stamping into the cabin. + +"No--er, well, no we didn't," Johnny stammered. + +"How come?" the man's face sobered. "That was your big moment." + +Sensing the tenseness of the situation, Mrs. Lawson said, "The coffee's +hot. I have some spice cookies, just out of the oven. How would you like +a bite to eat?" + +"That--that would be splendid!" said the Professor. + +When, over their cups of coffee, the boys had told the whole story, there +was a strange look on the Professor's face as he said, "Can't say that I +blame you. Under the circumstances I should have done the same thing. We +shall be obliged to get our beaver some other way. And as for your +tractor--" + +"We--we'll manage," Lawrence replied slowly. Then, "By the way, +Professor. You must know about bears. Are there any light blue bears?" + +"Blue bears? Let me think! Oh, certainly! They belong up this way, too. +Very rare they are, though." + +"Blue bears!" Lawrence became greatly excited. "Small blue bears, no +larger than a good-sized dog, with woolly hair? They--they live on fish?" + +"What?" It was the Professor's turn to become excited. "You haven't seen +one? You--you couldn't catch one for me, could you?" + +"Sure--sure," Lawrence stammered. "No, I mean we haven't. That is, we +could, I--I'm sure we could." + +"If you were to bring me one of those bears alive and in good condition," +the Professor spoke in a deeply solemn voice, "you might name your own +price. Glacier bears, they are called. There is a stuffed specimen in the +United States National Museum, but not a single living specimen in +captivity anywhere." + +"We--we'll hunt up Smokey Joe tomorrow," Johnny said. "He's seen them. He +can tell us where they are. In fact, he told us all about them, only I +thought it was all hooey." + +"Smokey Joe? Who is that?" the Professor asked. + +"An old prospector," Johnny explained. "He's been all over this country." + +"In that case," said the Professor, "much as I should like a glacier +bear, I suggest that you postpone your search until late spring. Those +rare creatures inhabit the wildest sort of country, rocks, cliffs and +glaciers. They are worse than mountain goats. You would almost certainly +perish. And besides, it is fairly certain that they, like most others of +their kind, hibernate. And so--" + +"So another bubble bursts," Johnny groaned. + +"Don't be too pessimistic," the Professor smiled. "I shall hope to hear +from you sometime in June or early July. A single specimen will do. + +"And, by the way," he added as he rose, "I've decided to offer you a +hundred dollars for your silver fox. That may not seem such a good price, +but is really above the market." + +"Sold! Sold!" the boys exclaimed in unison. And so it was that the boys +collected their first real money. They were, however, still a long way +from their goal. + + + + + CHAPTER VIII + THE STORMY PETREL'S FIRST PRIZE + + +As the winter wore on the cold grew more intense. Ice on the streams was +thick. Wild animals appeared to vanish from the scene. Snow covered much +of the river surfaces. All these things served to make "bringing them +home alive" more difficult. + +At last the boys gave up this strange occupation and turned to the task +of clearing the ten-acre tract. + +"If we can get that tract cleared we'll plant it in barley, oats and +peas. When these are ground together they make excellent chicken feed. +We'll go in for poultry. There's a steady market for dressed chickens and +eggs at Fairbanks," said Mr. Lawson. + +"Yes, if we get that tract cleared," Lawrence thought, but did not say. +No further suggestion that they go into debt for a tractor was made by +anyone. + +The long Arctic evenings were divided between games and dreaming. The +fame of Johnny's and Joe's boxing had traveled far. The recreation room +at Palmer was given over to this excellent sport two nights a week. + +A boxing club was formed. Even Jack Mayhorn dropped his feud with Johnny +and joined up. Members of a boxing club at Seward accepted an invitation +for a contest. Johnny and Joe won this by a narrow margin. + +On the evenings when business or pleasure did not take them to town +Johnny and Lawrence might often be found dreaming by their own +hearth-fire. + +"When the land is cleared and plowed, when the grain is sowed and we've +earned a breathing spell," Lawrence would say, "then we'll hunt up old +Smokey Joe and go out for one of those glacier bears." + +"If we can find Smokey Joe," Johnny would smilingly agree. "And if they +don't need us for service in Bristol Bay." + +"Bristol Bay," Lawrence would reply doubtfully. "Seems as if I'd rather +catch animals alive than go after those Orientals." + +"We'll take them alive, too," Johnny chuckled. + +Lawrence was not so sure of this. Hour after hour Blackie Dawson, who had +discarded his crutches, entertained them with stories of his adventures +with the Orientals. + +"They want everything for themselves. They spoiled their own fishing by +catching the salmon before they were half grown and canning them right on +the ships. Now they want to come over here and do the same, right up +there in Bristol Bay. + +"They catch our fish and can 'em, then they pop into Seattle or San +Francisco and say, 'See all the fine fish we have canned for you. Come +and buy them.' + +"Think we'll do that?" he would storm. "Not on your life! We'll get 'em. +You'll see. + +"But the Shadow," his voice would drop, "that shadow that passes in the +fog. How's a fellow to catch that? Who can tell? But we'll get it, too," +he would add, striking the table a lusty blow. + +In March he received his appointment as Commander of the _Stormy Petrel_. + +"A swell boat." He was proud of her. "Come on down with me and we'll turn +her motors over once or twice just to get the rust out of 'em." + +Johnny and Lawrence accepted his invitation. They did far more than turn +the motors over. With Lawrence as engineer and Johnny as first mate, they +cruised for three days along the Alaskan shores. + +On the third day, "Just to get in practice," as Blackie put it, they +hailed a suspicious-looking craft carrying no flag. When the skipper +failed to heed Blackie's command to head around, they sent a ball from +their shiny brass cannon over her bow and she promptly hove to. + +She was found to be carrying contraband drugs. "A fair capture in a fair +chase," as Blackie expressed it. "A regular feather in our cap." + +"Well," said Johnny, "how did you like it?" + +"Those are glorious motors," Lawrence enthused. "How I'd love to be their +master. But I hope--" he hesitated. "I rather hope we go after the +glacier bears. That's the surest way to get a tractor. And a tractor's +what we need most." + +"Time and fate will decide," Johnny said soberly. + +"Time and Blackie," Lawrence added with a laugh. + +"And Smokey Joe," Johnny amended. + + + + + CHAPTER IX + FATE LENDS A HAND + + +Strangely enough it was Fate, in the form of an automobile accident in +far away Seattle, that cast the final vote deciding their choice between +the _Stormy Petrel_ in Bristol Bay and a glacier bear hunt with Smokey +Joe. + +Spring had come at last. Steadfastly refusing to go in debt, the Dawsons, +with Johnny's help, were attempting to clear their land without the help +of a tractor. + +At first it was fun. With blasting powder and dynamite they blew the +larger stumps into shreds. The boom--boom--boom of blasts might be heard +for miles. + +There remained thousands of smaller stumps. To force these from the tough +sod and heavy black soil with pick, shovel and bar, was back-breaking +labor. + +"Give me time," Johnny would groan when morning came. "There's a place in +my back somewhere that bends. I'll find it. Just give me time." + +Joke as they might, they could not but feel that progress was woefully +slow and that seed-time would find them all unprepared. + +One bright day an automobile came bumping over the uneven road to pause +before their field. Out from it popped an old friend. + +"Blackie!" Johnny exclaimed. "I thought you'd be in Bristol Bay by now." + +"I'm on my way," Blackie puffed. "And so are you. + +"Mr. Lawson," he exclaimed, "I must draft your boys into my service." + +"What about these stumps," Mr. Lawson straightened his stiff back. + +"What'll it cost to have 'em out with a tractor?" Blackie demanded. + +Both Johnny and Lawrence looked at him with gleaming eyes. + +"Why do you need my boys?" the man among the stumps demanded. + +"Two of the men who were to accompany me have been crippled," Blackie +explained. "They were in an auto accident in Seattle. I had a wire this +morning. They were so badly hurt they could not let me know sooner. And +tomorrow we were to sail. Already there has been news of trouble in +Bristol Bay. + +"I tell you, Mr. Lawson," Blackie was pleading now. "It's for Alaska and +her greatest enterprise I ask it. Yes, and for every humble American who +makes a simple meal from a can of salmon. As I see it, it's your +patriotic duty to let them go." + +Then Blackie did a strange thing for him. He quoted poetry-- + + "'Not once nor twice in our fair Island's story + Has the path of duty been the way to glory.' + +"Mr. Lawson!" he exploded, "let them go. Here!" he waved a roll of bills. +"I'll pull your stumps. I'll plow your land and sow your seed. Let them +go." + +Who could have refused? Surely not a man with Tom Lawson's patriotic +soul. "Al-all right, boys," he said huskily. "Go get your clothes. +And--and Blackie, I must trust you to bring them safely home." + +"No need to worry," Blackie reassured him. "We'll all be back to shoot +fire-crackers with you on the Fourth of July. And may your fields be +green by then." + +Twenty-four hours later Johnny and Lawrence found themselves standing on +the narrow deck of the _Stormy Petrel_ watching a familiar shore-line +fade from their sight. + +To Johnny this seemed just one more journey into the great unknown. To +Lawrence it was something more, his first long trip away from his own +family. Strange emotions stirred within him. Questions he could not +answer crowded through his mind. How long was this journey to last? What +strange, wild adventures would he meet? What would be the outcome? Would +they be of some real service? + +Through his thoughts ran Blackie's two lines of verse, + + "'Not once nor twice in our fair Island's story + Has the path of duty been the way to glory.'" + +What did it mean? He had only a vague notion. + +"MacGregor," he said to the gray-haired engineer who thrust his head up +from the engine room, "what do these words mean?" He repeated the lines. + +"Well, noo, me lad," said the friendly old Scotchman, "I've never been +too good at poetry. But it seems to me it says if ye think first of yer +country and her needs, ye'll be likely to get the things you want most +fer yerself; that is, I meant to say, in the end." + +"Thanks." Once again the boy paced the deck. Was this true? He wanted a +tractor, a humble, earth-digging, sod-plowing, stump-pulling tractor. It +was a strange thing for a boy to want, he knew. Most boys would have +wished for an automobile, but he wanted a tractor. Would he get it? + +As they left Seward behind and headed west to follow the Alaskan +Peninsula until they could cross over into Bristol Bay, it seemed to him +that they were heading directly away from his heart's desire. The pay +they were to receive was small. It would help very little. "And yet," he +thought with a firm resolve to do his best in his strange new position, +"Sometimes fate does seem to take a hand in making things come out just +right. Here's hoping." + +The _Stormy Petrel_ was a sturdy boat with powerful motors. She was +small--little larger than a good-sized speed boat. But how she could go! + +There was a small after-cabin with six bunks ranged along the sides. Here +George, the colored cook, presided over a small stove producing glorious +things to eat. The coffee was always hot. And indeed it was needed, for, +as a gray fog settled down upon them, the air became bitter cold. + +Johnny was to take watch for watch with Blackie as steersman. Lawrence +was to exchange watches with MacGregor and preside over the motors. Had +this been a week's cruise simply for pleasure, nothing could have been +more delightful. Johnny loved boats. Lawrence listened to the steady roar +of his motors and was joyously happy. + +And yet, there hung over them a sense of approaching danger. + +"Say-ee!" Johnny exclaimed on the third day, after taking their position +and studying the chart. "We're closer to Asia than we are to Seattle." + +"Aye, that we are, me lad," MacGregor agreed. + +"Yes, and that's why it's so easy for these Orientals to slip over here +and trap our fish," Blackie exploded. + +"And that," he went on quietly, "is why you settlers in Matanuska Valley +are given so much financial aid. Your old Uncle Sam wants you there. He's +going to locate more and more people along these Alaskan shores. You +watch and see! Why? To give them homes? Not a bit of it. To have people +here to watch those Orientals, that's why." + +"Well," said Johnny with a laugh. "Looks like we'd learn a lot of +geography and current history on this trip." + +"No doubt about that, me lad," MacGregor agreed. + +They had been on the water for five days when, touching Johnny on the +shoulder, Blackie pointed at two spots of white against the sky. + +"That's snow on two mountain peaks," he explained. "The cannery we're +heading for is built on the banks of a small river close to these +mountains. We'll be there before dark. And after that," he took a deep +breath. "After that our real work begins." + +"A new world," Johnny murmured dreamily. + +"You don't know half of it," said Blackie. And Blackie was right. + + + + + CHAPTER X + A NEW WORLD + + +Next morning Johnny and Blackie Dawson sat on the deck of the _Stormy +Petrel_. A wild nor'wester was whipping up the ocean spray. Even on the +river well back from the narrow bay, little whitecaps came racing in. + +"No day for going out!" Blackie grumbled. "Pile up on the rocks, that's +what we'd do." + +"Yes," Johnny agreed. Fact is, he at that moment was not thinking of the +sea, but of the quiet Matanuska valley, of the snug home he and his +people had built there. He wondered in a vague sort of way how far this, +his latest venture, would lead him from that home. He was thinking not so +much for himself as for his cousin Lawrence. + +Strange as it might seem, the welcome given them by the people of the +cannery had not come up to their expectations. Men had stared at them, +had mumbled something under their breath, then gone about their work. + +Work there was to be done, too. There was a pleasant hum of expectancy +about the place. Every motor, machine and conveyor in the place was being +given the once-over. Power-boat motors thundered as they went through +their testing. Johnny felt a desire to become a part of it all. And yet-- + +"Fool sort of thing this rushing off after adventure," he told himself. +But, had love of adventure alone brought them this far, hundreds of miles +from his quiet valley? Love of home was one thing, love of one's country +another. You didn't-- + +His thoughts broke off short. There had come the sound of a loud voice. +The _Stormy Petrel_ was anchored on a narrow dock that ran along the side +of a long, low building, the cannery. A window was open. The speaker was +near. Johnny caught every word. As he listened his ears burned. But what +could he do? He was on his own boat. People who do not mean to be heard +too far must speak softly. + +Perhaps the man meant to be heard. There was more than a suggestion of +anger and threat in his voice as he said, "Fine fix we're in! Huh! Here +we are part of the biggest industry in Alaska. Fifteen million dollars a +year. The Orientals start cuttin' in on us. We call for help, for +protection. And what do we get? A lousy tub no bigger than a gill-net +boat. And how's she manned, I ask you?" + +A second voice rumbled words that could not be understood. + +"She's manned by a crippled young skipper," the first speaker growled. +"An old Scotch engineer and two kids. Protection! Bah!" There came a +grunt of disgust. "We'll have to take things into our own hands." + +At that a door slammed and they heard no more. + +"Well?" Blackie tried to scare up a grin. It was not a huge success. +"Kids," he said. + +"We're not quite that," Johnny said quietly. "We _are_ pinch hitters." + +"Sure you are," Blackie agreed. "But I wouldn't trade you for half the +so-called men in the regular service. + +"Say, Johnny!" His voice dropped. "Know who that was talking?" + +"No-o." + +"It was Red McGee. He is the union agent that looks after the interests +of these men working in the canneries. They say he's a good man and a +fighter, but narrow. A--a fighter. Hm'm--" Blackie seemed to play with +the words. + +"Johnny," his whisper sounded like an exploding steam valve. "You _like_ +to box, don't you?" + +"Nothing I like better," Johnny grinned. "Started when I was six and +never stopped." + +"Red McGee's a boxer," Blackie said. "Off times like this I'm told these +men up here go in for boxing bouts. Nothing savage, you understand, just +a few friendly rounds. And Red's never been beaten by any of them." + +"And I suppose you expect me to trim him, at least to try it?" Johnny's +face was a study. + +"No-o, not just that, only a few friendly rounds. I'd like you to +represent the _Stormy Petrel_." + +"I think I get you," Johnny's lips moved in a quiet smile. "You want this +crowd to know that I'm not a child." + +"Johnny," Blackie's tone was almost solemn, "it's important. Mighty +important! If this fishing mob gets started and if they find a ship out +there in Bristol Bay catching fish contrary to law, there's going to be +trouble. More trouble than all our diplomats can clear up in a year. + +"There's no getting 'round it, this business has been slighted. But this +much stands out like your nose--we've got to do what we can. And we can't +do much if these Alaskans sneer at us. + +"So-o, son," he drawled, "if they give you a chance tonight you step in. +And if a chance doesn't open up, I'll open one. + +"Come on," he sprang to his feet. "It's time for chow." + +Passionately fond of boxing as Johnny surely was, he found himself +dreading the encounter Blackie had proposed for that night. Why? He could +not have told. + +A strange audience awaited him in the long, low-ceilinged room where, on +working days cases of salmon were stored for shipping. Seated on empty +packing boxes, the men formed a hollow circle. This circle was to be the +ring for the evening's entertainment. + +"They're all here," Blackie grinned. "A dozen nationalities: Italians, +Finlanders, Swedes, down-east Yankees, an Eskimo or two and what have +you. + +"One thing they've got in common," his voice rang true, "they're all +Alaskans at heart. Hard fighters, straight shooters, they look you square +in the eye and treat you fair. But when anyone tries any dirty, +underhanded work, you'll see sparks fly." + +"Well," Johnny smiled. "Whatever else happens, there will be no crooked +work tonight. I don't fight that way." + +"Don't I know it?" Blackie agreed. + +"Well, now, here we are," he chuckled a moment later. "Reserved seats. +Box seats, mind you. Who could ask for more?" + +As Johnny sat, quite silent in his place, watching one short three-round +match after another being fought in a good-natured rough-and-tumble +fashion between boatmen, cannery workers, carpenters, engineer and +blacksmith, he became more and more conscious of one fact--the crowd was +holding back its enthusiasm. + +"It's like the preliminary bouts in Madison Square Gardens," he said to +Blackie at last. "They seem to be waiting for the one big fight. What's +coming?" + +"Can't you guess?" + +"No-o, I--" + +"It's you and Red McGee. They're waiting for that." + +"What?" Johnny half rose to his feet. + +"Keep your seat." Blackie pulled him down. "Ever hear of the grapevine +telegraph?" + +"Yes, in--in a sort of way." + +"It's the mysterious manner in which news travels up here. These fellows +know about you. The minute I gave them your name they busted out, 'The +kid that packs a wallop?'" + +"And you--" + +"I said, 'Sure! None other. But does Red McGee know it?' + +"They said, 'Guess he doesn't. He's been in Seattle, just come up.' + +"Then I said, 'Mum's the word. We'll just ask him to give Johnny a few +pointers in boxing.'" + +"And they agreed?" Johnny seemed ready to bolt from the room. + +"Sure. Why not?" Blackie grinned. "It's the grandest way to get in with +all of 'em. They like a good joke. So does Red McGee." + +"Even if it's on him?" + +"Even if it's on him. Absolutely." + +"Then he's a real sport," Johnny settled back in his place. "It will be a +real joy to box him a few rounds." + +"Okie doke," Blackie seemed relieved. "But, Johnny," he added, "pull your +punches. Murder isn't legal in Alaska, not south of the Arctic Circle." + +"I only hope Red McGee remembers that," was Johnny's solemn reply. + + + + + CHAPTER XI + THE FALL OF THE RED McGEE + + +When by popular request, emphasized by loud shouts, Red McGee was called +upon to put on the gloves, he stepped forward smiling. Johnny slid to the +very edge of his box for a good look. This was the first time he had seen +the man. He was a little startled. + +"So that's what I'm going up against?" he murmured low. + +Six feet of man, broad shoulders, a shock of red hair that stood straight +up, a square jaw and glittering eyes, this was Red McGee. + +And was he popular? The hoarse shouts of approval that made the rough +rafters ring as he stepped out on the floor left no room for doubt. + +Red was to box three rounds with a man named Tomingo, a dark-faced +foreigner who piloted a gill-net boat. Johnny was thankful for this brief +reprieve before he too should step into the ring. + +That Red McGee was no mean boxer he learned at once. He had a head on his +shoulders and a remarkable eye. + +"He seems to anticipate every move this Tomingo makes," Johnny groaned in +a whisper. + +"They have boxed together before," was Blackie's answer. "Perhaps many +times. When you play a game with a man many times, just any game, you +come to know his tricks. But you, Johnny, he doesn't know you. It's an +advantage. + +"But, Johnny," he cautioned after a moment's silence, "don't let him get +to you. Look at those arms! If he hits you just once, a good square one, +you're sunk. + +"And, boy," his voice dropped, "this is a big spot. It's important, +mighty important. These fellows must respect us, have faith in the +_Stormy Petrel_ and her crew. If they don't, they'll go storming out +there six hundred strong, looking for trouble. And if they find it! Oh, +man! They might start a war." + +"There!" Johnny breathed. "There's the bell. That match is over. And Red +McGee is just nicely warmed up." + +The tall, lanky boatman who acted as referee shuffled off the floor. + +"Who's next?" Red McGee invited with a broad smile. + +It was evident at once that few of the men cared to take him on. Tomingo +was wearing a flaming patch where Red's glove had raked his chin. + +"Red," one of his own men volunteered, "there's one of them kids from the +_Stormy Petrel_ who'd like to learn a little about boxing. Would y' mind +a teachin' him?" + +"One of those boys?" Red looked squarely at Johnny. Johnny flinched. Did +Red know? "Oh, sure!" Red's lips spread in a broad smile. "I like boys, +always have. Sure I'll show him. + +"Look, Tom," he turned to the referee. "Help the boy on with his gloves. +Be sure he gets 'em on the right hands. It's awkward boxing if you +don't." He let out a low chuckle. + +Once again Johnny flinched. What did Red know? Probably nothing. This was +just his way of poking fun at the _Stormy Petrel's_ crew. This made +Johnny a little angry, but not too much. + +"Show 'em, Johnny," Blackie hissed in his ear. Next Johnny found himself +shaking the great paw of Red McGee. And so the fight began. + +Nothing had been said about the number of rounds, nor their length. +Johnny was a little taken back when the referee settled himself on a box +in a corner. + +"But then," it came to him with a sudden shock, "I'm supposed to be a +learner. When you're taking lessons there are no rounds. Well, I'll be a +learner, for a while." + +He carried out his plan to the letter, almost. After giving him a few +words of instruction, Red invited him to "Sail right in. Hit me if you +can." + +The boy did not exactly "sail in." Instead, he danced about the big man +in an awkward but tantalizing fashion. There is nothing more irritating +than a fly buzzing around one's head. Johnny was, for the moment, Red +McGee's fly. He was here, there and everywhere. At times he appeared to +leave himself wide open to one of Red's sledge-hammer blows, but none of +these really connected. + +All the time Johnny was thinking, "How long will he stand this? How long? +How--" + +The answer came sooner than he expected. His arms were all but at his +side, he was looking Red squarely in the eyes when he saw those eyes +change. It was like the change of a traffic light from green to red. Of a +sudden, a huge gloved paw came squarely at the side of his head. + +No one will ever know what that blow might have done had it arrived at +its proposed destination. It did not arrive. Johnny's head was not there. +Instead, it was Red who, to his vast surprise, received the lightest of +taps on the tip of his chin. + +The crowd saw and roared. There were men, plenty of them, who knew that, +had Johnny not pulled that punch, Red would have hit the floor. + +Did Red know? For the life of him Johnny could not tell. One thing he did +know, this was no longer a boxing lesson, nor was it to be a sparring +match. It was instead to resemble an old-fashioned fight with no gong, no +referee and no time out. Red McGee was aroused. There could be no doubt +about that. + +Johnny kept his opponent going about the ring in a whirl. Twice he +stopped and all but fell into Red's waiting fists. Twice he heard the +whistle of a glove as it brushed his ear. + +Once, when he was in Blackie's corner, he heard a hoarse whisper, +"Steady, there, boy. I can't afford to lose you." + +Once, in a mad rush, Red McGee tripped, falling to his knees. Backing +away into a corner, Johnny gave him time to regain his feet. Gladly would +the boy have remained in that corner for the count of a hundred. All too +soon he caught Red's challenge. + +"Come out an' box." + +"Red's in a tight place," Blackie said in a low tone to Lawrence. "I'm +almost sorry I got him into it. He's got a bull by the tail and can't let +go. If he quits now he's afraid he'll lose the respect of his men. If he +goes on, well, anything may happen." + +In the end two things happened. Both were surprises to Johnny. + +The older man was tiring. Johnny found that by using a little strategy he +could tap the man's chin at will. Be it said to his credit, he tapped +that round red chin only twice. There is little to be gained by an +unnecessarily large score. + +Those two taps, little heavier than love pats, stirred up something deep +in Red's nature. His men were looking on a new man. Not that they thought +the less of him for it. Rough and ready men of the northern wilds, they +understood as few ever do. + +Then things began to happen fast. Red lunged at Johnny. The boy dodged. +The man came at him again. In one of those seconds when reason goes on a +vacation, Johnny tried one more pulled punch to the chin. He did not pull +it fast enough. Red McGee fell upon that punch as a polar bear falls upon +a spear. + +There came a resounding thwack. Then, doubling up like an empty sack, Red +McGee spread himself neatly on the floor. He was out for much more than +the count of ten. + +The hush that followed was appalling. But the shout that followed! +Nothing Johnny had ever before heard even remotely resembled it. Perhaps +a gladiator in the Roman Arena, had he returned from the dead, might have +recognized it with joy or fear. + +In vain did Johnny try to analyze that sound. Was it a cheer? Or was it a +curse? Should he be carried out like a football hero or crushed by an +infuriated mob? + +Strangely enough, as he stood there half paralyzed by the sudden shock of +it all, he was conscious of one voice. Above the shout had risen a +woman's scream. And he had not known there was a woman in the place. Who +was she? Where had she come from? Why was she here? + +"It's all right, boys," he heard a big voice boom. "He didn't aim to do +it. He pulled his punch. Twice he did it. He--" + +The speaker broke off short. There was a girl at his side, or perhaps a +young lady. Johnny was not sure. A round, freckled face and angry eyes, +that was all he saw. In another second she would have been at him, tooth +and nail. But the big foreman, who had done the talking, wrapped a long +arm about her waist as he said, "It's all right, Rusty. Everything is O. +K., child. He didn't aim to do it. An' your daddy ain't hurt none to +speak of. It's what they call a knockout. He'll be 'round in a twinkle." + +At that the girl hid her face in the foreman's jacket to murmur fiercely, +"The brute! The ugly little brute!" + +And Johnny knew she meant him. Because she was a girl, because he had +hurt her and he felt miserable, he slipped back into the outer fringe of +the milling throng. + + + + + CHAPTER XII + A PTARMIGAN FEAST + + +As Red McGee opened his eyes he found the foreman, Dan Weston and his +daughter, Rusty, bending over him. + +"Wh-what!" he exclaimed, struggling to a sitting position, "what in the +name of--" + +"You fell into a fast one, Red." The foreman laughed. The crowd joined in +this laugh but not the girl. Sober of face, she stood looking down at her +father. + +"Daddy," she began, "are you--" + +"Do you mean to say that kid from the _Stormy Petrel_ put me out?" Red +McGee interrupted. + +"Well, you went out," the foreman drawled. "The boy was the only one near +you so I reckon--" + +He was not allowed to finish for at that Red McGee let out a tremendous +roar of laughter. + +"Ho! Ho! Ha-ha-ha!" he roared. "That's one on Red McGee. + +"But, boys!" he struggled to his feet. "I want to admit right here. There +might be something to that _Stormy Petrel_ crew after all. Give 'em a +chance, I say." + +"Sure! Sure!" the crowd boomed. "Give 'em a chance." + +"Where's that young roughneck?" Red demanded, staring about him. "I want +to shake his hand." + +"Here--here he is!" Blackie pushed Johnny forward. + +"I--I'm sorry--" Johnny began. + +"Young man," Red McGee broke in, "never apologize. Your enemies don't +deserve it, and your friends don't demand it. From now on we're pals. +Shake on it." Their hands met in the clasp of a grizzly and a bear cub. + +"What's more," Red went on, "the treat's on me. You're coming up to +dinner with me, all four of you fellows from the _Stormy Petrel_. Ever +eat ptarmigan pot pie?" + +"Never have," said Johnny. + +"Well, you're going to before this day is ..." + + * * * * * * * * + +... look into her eyes, he found himself seeing cold, blue-gray circles +expressing as near as he could tell, undying hate. + +"Of course," he said to Blackie, "you can't expect a girl to understand +about boxing, with all of its ups and downs. But it does seem she might +give a fellow the benefit of the doubt." + +"She will, son. She will," Blackie reassured him. "Perhaps sooner than +you think." Was this prophesy or a guess? Time would tell. + +Rusty McGee was the type of girl any real boy might be proud to call a +pal. With an easy smile, a freckled face and a mass of wavy, rust-colored +hair, she caught your interest at a glance. The strong, elastic, healthy +spring of her whole self kept you looking. + +More than once during his visit to the McGee summer home, a stout log +cabin nestling among the barren Alaskan hills, Johnny found his eyes +following her movements as she glided from room to room. + +"Boy, she can cook!" Blackie exclaimed as he set his teeth into the juicy +breast of "mountain quail," as ptarmigan are often called. And Johnny did +not disagree. + +Since the crew of the _Stormy Petrel_ were her father's friends, it was +evident that Rusty meant to do her best as a hostess. But to Johnny she +gave never a smile. + +"How she must love that old dad of hers!" Blackie whispered once. +Johnny's only answer was a scowl. + +Yes, Johnny was shunned and slighted by this youthful "queen of the +canneries," as she had once been called, but the _Stormy Petrel's_ +engineer, old Hugh MacGregor, came in for more than his full share of +interest. + +Hugh MacGregor was truly old. His thatch of gray told that. With +grandchildren of his own he was just a big-hearted old man. Rusty was not +long in sensing that. + +When the dinner, a truly grand feast, was over, the others, Blackie, Red +McGee, Lawrence and Johnny retired to the glassed-in porch where they +might have a look at the barren hills of Alaska and the wide, +foam-flecked sweep of Bristol Bay, and, at the same time, talk of fish, +Oriental raiders and the sea. + +MacGregor remained behind to "help with the dishes." + +"Do you like Alaska?" Rusty asked him. + +"Oh, sure I do!" was the old man's quick response. "I spent a winter much +further north than this many years ago. I was quite young then. It was +thrilling, truly it was. Cape Prince of Wales on Bering Straits--" his +voice trailed off dreamily. + +"Way up there?" the girl exclaimed. "What were you doing?" + +"Herdin' reindeer and Eskimo," he laughed. "I crossed the straits in a +skin boat with the Eskimo and lived a while in Russia without a passport. +You do things like that when you are young. + +"Ah yes," he sighed, "youth is impulsive, and often wrong." He was +thinking of Johnny. He knew how Johnny felt about things. He had become +very fond of the boy. + +Did Rusty understand? Who could tell? Burying her hands in foamy suds, +she washed dishes furiously. Nor did she speak again for some time. + +Meanwhile, over their pipes, Red McGee and Blackie were discussing the +task that lay before them. + +"I suppose you know all about this Oriental fishing business," Red +suggested. + +"I'm not sure that I do know all about it," was Blackie's modest reply. +"Suppose you tell me." + +"It's like this," Red cleared his throat. "There was a time when we +thought the salmon supply off these shores was inexhaustible. We caught +them in nets and traps just as we pleased. + +"Then," he blew out a cloud of smoke, "there came a time when we woke up +to the fact that the whole run of salmon might vanish. You know what that +would mean?" + +"Yes, I know," Blackie agreed. "The little man in Hoboken, Omaha and +Detroit who hasn't much pay and has a big family could no longer feed the +children on a fifteen-cent can of salmon." + +"Right," McGee agreed. "More than that, thousands of fine fellows, just +such men as you saw tonight, fair-minded, honest men that would," he +paused to chuckle, "that would see one of their best friends knocked cold +by a stranger in a fair sparring match and not want to kill him, men like +that would be out of a job. Their families would go hungry. You know, +about all they understand is salmon catching." + +"And so?" Blackie prompted after a moment's silence. + +"So the government and the canners got together on a conservation +program; so many fish to be caught each year, the same number allowed to +go up stream and spawn. + +"The plan was well worked out. We've put the salmon industry on a sound +foundation. It will continue so for years unless--" + +"These Orientals are allowed to come over here and set three-mile-long +nets across the bay," suggested Blackie. + +"That's just it!" McGee struck the table a resounding blow. "They're +taking advantage of a technicality of international law. And unless we +drive them out--" + +"Not too loud," Blackie cautioned. "There goes one of them now." + +"What?" McGee sprang to his feet. A slender, dark-haired person was +passing down the path before the cabin. + +"No," he settled back in his place. "He's not one of 'em. He's one of our +Eskimos. We have three of them down here. It's a little off their regular +beat. But they are keen at locating the runs of salmon. Inherited it from +their fathers, I-- + +"But say!" his voice rose. "He does look like one of those Orientals." + +"Sure he does," Blackie agreed. + +"We might use him for a sort of spy," McGee's voice dropped to a whisper. +"His name's Kopkina. Used to work in a restaurant. He picked up the +Oriental lingo, at least enough to pass for one of 'em. If some of them +come around here, we'll have Kopkina mix in with them. He might find +things out, important facts." + +"It's a good idea," Blackie agreed. + + +"Yes," MacGregor was saying to Rusty, as he told more of his adventures +in the very far north, "it was a bit peculiar goin' up there like that, +livin' with the Eskimos. And me still a young fellow like Johnny Thompson +now." He shot her a look. She smiled at him in a peculiar way, but said +never a word. + +"It was the food that was strange," he went on after a chuckle. "Of +course, you can chew polar bear steak if you've got uncommon good teeth. +Seal steak's not half-bad and reindeer makes a grand Mulligan stew." + +"Yes, I know," the girl agreed. "We have some reindeer meat sent down +every season. Stay with us and you'll have a taste of it." + +"We'll stay, all right," MacGregor declared. "That's what we're here for +to stay, hunting Orientals and shadows--shadows." He repeated the word +slowly. "Blackie believes in moving shadows in the fog on the sea." + +"Shadows?" the girl stared at him. + +"Sure! He says they glide along across the sea with never a sound. Like +some phantom schooner it was," he said. + +"That's strange." The girl's eyes shone. "There was a gill-net fisherman +last season told something just like that. He was an Italian, sort of a +dreamer. We didn't believe him. But now--what do you think?" + +"I don't know what to think," MacGregor scratched his gray thatch. + +"But, Mr. MacGregor," the girl said after a moment, "didn't you have a +thing to eat except Eskimo food?" + +"What? Oh, yes, up there, up there when I was a kid same as Johnny," +MacGregor laughed. "Sure--sure we did. It came on a sailin' schooner all +in cans. + +"We had evaporated potatoes and eggs in cans, butter pickled in cans, hot +dogs in cans, everything. And the Eskimos," he threw back his head and +laughed. "They'd stand around watchin' to see what we'd take out of a can +next. + +"And then we got a phonograph," he laughed again. + +"A phonograph?" Rusty said. + +"Sure. First one those little brown boys ever seen. Had a long tin horn +to it, that phonograph did. The Eskimos looked at it and tapped the tin +horn. They said, '_Suna una?_' (What is it?) We didn't tell 'em, so they +tapped it some more and said, 'All same tin can-_emuck_.' + +"Bye and bye we cranked it up and started it going. The record was a +white man singin' 'Meet me in Saint Louis, Louie. Meet me at the Fair.' + +"Well, that was funny!" he chuckled. "The Eskimos just looked and +listened for a long time. Then one of them looked at the others and said, +'Can you beat that! A white man in that tin can!'" + +The merry laugh that rang out from the kitchen was heard by those on the +porch. Johnny heard it with the others and was glad--glad that that fine +girl could laugh even if it wasn't his joke. + +"See that cannery out there?" Red McGee was saying. "Cost a cool million +dollars. Paying interest on the investment, too. Also it's giving two +thousand people a living. But these Orientals with their floating +canneries--" + +"Floating canneries?" Lawrence broke in. + +"Sure! That's what they've got. They pick up some big hulk of a ship +cheap, install some canning equipment, load on a drove of cheap coolies +and steam away. Pretty soon they're over Bristol Bay, just off the shores +of Alaska, but beyond the three-mile limit. Three miles! Bah!" he +exploded. + +"I'm in favor of calling every square mile of Bristol Bay American +waters," Blackie replied. + +Red McGee stared at him with sudden approval. "Say!" he roared, "we must +be brothers." + +"We ought to run those Orientals off," Blackie grinned. "We're here to +start just that. That boat of ours may not seem so hot, but she's got +speed and power, three airplane motors in her. Good ones, too. Once we +sight an Oriental fishing boat setting nets too close behind the fog +they're coming ashore." + +"To do a lot of explaining." + +"Yes, and for quite a long visit." + +"That's the talk," Red McGee stood up. "Here's hoping the wind drops so +you can get there. The fishing hasn't really started. No foreign boats +have been seen. But they're there. They made a haul last year. We're sure +of that. So why shouldn't they come back?" + +"Why not?" Blackie agreed. + +In all of this time neither Johnny nor Lawrence said a word. For all +that, they were thinking hard and their young hearts were on fire with a +desire to do their bit for the good old U. S. A. and Alaska, their +present home. + +"Nice place you've got here," said MacGregor, as he joined the party on +the porch. + +"It will pass," was Red McGee's modest reply. "I built it for my wife. +She loved these rugged hills and the smell of the sea. She--" his voice +faltered. He looked away. "She left us a year and a half ago. But Rusty +and I, we--we sort of carry on. + +"But if those Orientals--" his voice rose, "Oh! Well, enough of that for +today. It's good of you fellows to join us in a feast!" + +"It's been swell!" said Blackie. + +"Swell! Grand! Mighty keen!" were the impulsive comments of the boys. + +"We know each other better," said Blackie. + +"A whole lot better," Red McGee agreed. + +"Goodbye, Rusty," MacGregor called back through the house. + +"Goodbye! Goodbye! Come again soon," came back in a girlish voice. + +"I wonder," Johnny thought as he took the winding path leading down to +the wharf. "Wonder if we'll ever get to come back here?" + + + + + CHAPTER XIII + THE SHADOW + + +"Fog." There was more than a suggestion of disgust in Johnny's tone as he +said this word. It was the next morning. After a good night's sleep +aboard the _Stormy Petrel_ he felt ready for anything. The moment he +awoke he had listened for the pounding surf. + +"Gone!" He had leaped from his bunk. "Storm's over. Now for a good look +at Bristol Bay and perhaps, just perhaps, some of those Orientals." + +"Here's hoping," Lawrence agreed. + +Yes, the storm was over, but here instead was a damp, chilling blanket of +dull, gray fog. + +"Can't see a hundred feet," he grumbled. + +"You'll get used to that, son." It was Red McGee who spoke. He had been +leaning on the rail talking to Blackie. "'Men and Fog on the Bering Sea.' +That's the name of a book. And it's a good name. There are always men and +nearly always there is fog. + +"Fish are coming in," he added as a cheering note. "Two boats are just in +from a try at the gill-nets. They made a fair catch." + +"But this fog," Johnny insisted, "gives those Orientals a chance to slip +in close, doesn't it?" + +"It does!" Red agreed. "Blast their hides! That floatin' factory of +theirs comes in close to the three-mile limit. Then their other boats, +small, fast ones, can come over the line and set nets. You couldn't see +them in the fog. They'd put 'em up early. Three miles of nets. + +"Claim they're catchin' crabs. Crabs, me eye!" he exploded. "Crab nets +are set on the bottom. Salmon nets are set close to the top. Drift nets +are what they use. We've never found one inside the three-mile line, but +we think they've been there all the same. + +"If you ever do find one," he turned to Blackie, "take it up and bring it +in. We'll can their fish an' boil their nets. + +"Shouldn't be any three-mile line," he continued. "All our shore water +belongs to us. So do the fish. It's food, son! Food for the millions. And +these Orientals would have had fish on their own shores if they hadn't +exterminated them." + +"We're going out right now," said Blackie. "Going to have a look for that +shadow that passes in the fog. We've got a nice swivel cannon up there +forward. Don't know whether you can hit a shadow, but it won't do any +harm to try." + +"All the same, this _is_ a serious situation," said Blackie as they +headed out into the fog. "These Alaskans are a strange people. They are +like the men of the old west, the west that's gone forever; fearless men +with hearts of gold, fighting devils when they know they've been wronged. +And this Oriental raiding business is an outrage, providing it's true." + +"But is it true?" Johnny asked. + +"That," said Blackie, "is what we're going to find out. + +"Johnny," he said after a moment, "go up forward and remove that box. Let +our little brass messenger swing with the boat." + +A moment later, up forward, a small swivel cannon swung from side to +side. As it did so it seemed to point, first right, then left. + +"This way or that?" Johnny thought. "I wonder which it will be." + +Hour after hour the fog hung on. Hour after hour Johnny squinted his eyes +for some moving object in that blanket of gray fog. The cold, damp ocean +air chilled him to the bone. Stamping his feet, he held doggedly to his +post. When his watch was over he went below to soak in the heat of the +stove that George, the colored cook, kept roaring hot. He drank two cups +of scalding black coffee, downed a plate of beans and a whole pan of hot +biscuits, then spread himself out on a cushioned seat to close his eyes +and dream. + +In those dreams he saw creeping gray shadows, darting fish and a pair of +laughing eyes. The eyes closed. When they opened the face wore a frown. + +"Rusty!" he whispered. "Wonder if she'll ever forgive me?" + +All too soon his turn at the watch came. The days were long, twenty hours +from dark to dawn. By nature a hard driver, inspired by his desire to +help the Alaskans, Blackie steered his small craft endlessly through the +gray murk. + +Then--of a sudden Johnny rubbed his eyes--stared away to the +right--closed his eyes--snapped them open again to whisper hoarsely, + +"Blackie! The shadow passes." + +"The shadow! Where?" + +The boy's hand pointed. + +"As I live!" Blackie muttered. + +A short, slim line, little darker than the fog, moved slowly across the +spot where sky and sea should meet. + +"Ahoy, there!" Blackie roared. "What boat goes there?" + +No answer. + +"I'll show them!" Blackie put out a hand. Three powerful motors roared. +The _Stormy Petrel_ lurched forward, all but throwing Johnny into the +sea. + +Sudden as the movement was, it proved too slow. Like a true shadow, the +thing vanished into the murk. + +"It--it went down," Johnny stammered. "Must have been a whale." + +"Or a submarine," Lawrence suggested. + +"It did not go down," said MacGregor. "It slid away into the fog. And it +was not a whale. I've seen plenty of whales. They're never like that." + +"Wait!" Johnny sprang for the cannon. "I'll give them a shot just to let +them know we're after them." + +"No! No! Not that!" MacGregor waved him back. "'Speak softly and carry a +big stick.' That was Teddy Roosevelt's motto. The grandest president that +ever lived. There's time enough to make a noise after we've got 'em under +our thumb." + +"I--I'm sorry," said Johnny. + + + + + CHAPTER XIV + A VOICE IN THE FOG + + +Forty-eight long hours the _Stormy Petrel_ haunted the gray fog. During +far more than his fair share of that time, eyes blinking but tireless, +Johnny stood on deck studying the small circle of black waters. + +Three times his heart leaped as a dark bulk loomed before them. Three +times he heaved a sigh of disappointment. + +"Only one of the gill-net boats returning to the cannery," was the +answer. + +"They're running strong," was the joyous report of one fisherman. "Full +load first trip. Looks like a grand season." + +"Poor luck," came from the second. "We tried hard. Got only half a load. +Have to come in anyway. It's the rule. Fish must always be fresh." + +The third boat had had even worse luck. It was going back all but empty. + +"No new calico dress for Nancy this time," the youthful skipper groaned. + +"No gitta da dress," his Italian companion agreed. + +At last, out of gas, with her crew half-blind from watching, the _Stormy +Petrel_ headed for the harbor. + +"They're out there somewhere," Red McGee insisted, as he met them at the +dock. "Must be anchored up north of here somewhere. It's the boys who go +up that way who come back half-empty. + +"But the wheels are turning," he added with a touch of pride. "Ever see a +cannery in operation?" he turned to the boys. + +"No, never have," was the quick response. + +"Rusty," said Red, turning to his daughter, "how'd you like to show these +boys through our plant?" + +Did Johnny detect a frown on the girl's face? If so, it was gone like the +shadow of a summer cloud. + +"Sure! Come on!" she welcomed. They were away. + +Somewhere Johnny had heard that a fish cannery was a place of evil smells +and revolting sights. Dirty coolies gouging into half-rotten fish--that +was his mental picture. + +A surprise awaited him. Not a coolie was in sight. The place smelled as +fresh as a May morning. To his ears came the sound of rushing water. + +"Where are the coolies?" he asked a man beside a machine. + +"This is him," the man chuckled. "An iron coolie." + +As the two boys watched they saw the machine seize a large salmon, sever +its head and tail, remove the scales and fins, clean it and pass it on in +a split second. + +"Jimminy crickets!" Lawrence exploded. "And I used to think I was the +champion fish cleaner!" + +Rusty favored him with a gorgeous smile. + +When, a little later, Johnny made a try for that same young lady's smile, +the cloud once again passed over her face, but no smile. He was not, +however, entirely discouraged. It was, he thought, more as if she could +not forgive him than that she did not want to. + +"We saw the shadow pass," Lawrence confided to the girl, as at last they +stood before a canning machine. + +"Oh!" the girl breathed. "Did you? And what--" + +"It vanished into the fog." + +"I have a small motor-boat," the girl said, in evident excitement. "It's +the _Krazy Kat_. I--I'm going out to look for the shadow in the fog." + +"You--you'd better not do that," Johnny spoke before he thought. "You'd +be--" He did not finish. + +"I was practically born and raised here." She spoke to him, as an +old-time Alaskan might to a newcomer. + +Johnny did not resent it. He had spoken out of turn. And yet he was +disturbed. He did not care to think of this fine young creature out there +in the fog alone. Supposing she did find the Orientals setting nets. +Suppose they found her, alone out there in the fog? + +"None of my business," he told himself fiercely. "Just none at all." + +The _Stormy Petrel_ remained an entire day in port. Blackie spent his +time listening to reports from the various fishing grounds. The shores of +Bristol Bay are hundreds of miles long. Next time he went out he wanted +to go to the right spot, if there were such a spot. + +Johnny made the acquaintance of Kopkino, the Eskimo. From him he learned +much about salmon, Orientals and the shores of Bristol Bay. And then, +just at midnight, he passed the sturdy little man standing beside a dark +pathway. There were three little men with him and they were all talking. +They were not Eskimos. He was sure of that. But they were Orientals. He +had heard enough of the languages to know. + +At once his mind was filled with questions. Was Kopkino betraying his +employer for Oriental gold, or was he acting as a spy for his big white +brother? Who could say? + +"He's an Oriental," Johnny told himself. "All Eskimos are. But after +all--" He came to no conclusion. + +Just before dawn the _Stormy Petrel_ crept out into the fog. She was +bound for an unannounced destination. + +"Action," Johnny said to Lawrence. "This time we are to have action. I +feel it in my bones." + +One thing puzzled Johnny not a little. They were provisioned as if for a +long trip, two weeks or more. + +Several hours later the _Stormy Petrel_ was once again circling about in +the fog. + +"Seems like it'll never end, this fog," MacGregor said to Johnny. They +were on deck working out their watch. "Looks as if nature was on the side +of those Orientals. + +"Orientals," he continued musingly, "I don't suppose they're much +different from the rest of us, only just some of them." + +"Just some of them," Johnny agreed, giving the wheel a turn. + +"Come to think of it," MacGregor went on, "there are a few white men who +are not so honorable." + +"Quite a few," Johnny agreed. + +Truth is, Johnny was dead tired. He wanted nothing quite so much as to +crawl into some warm corner and sleep for hours and hours. + +"I don't hate them all the same," MacGregor squinted his eyes to look +through the fog. Then he demanded low, "Hear anything, Johnny?" + +"Not a thing." + +"Thought I heard a voice coming out of the fog." + +For some time after that neither spoke. They were listening with all +their ears for some sound that might tell them the mysterious moving +shadow was about to pass. + +"What is this shadow?" Johnny asked himself. "Submarine, some fast, +silent craft, or a whale?" + +He liked the idea of a submarine. The Orientals had them. Why not use +them for laying nets? Easy enough to vanish when danger was near. + +"Hate, me lad, is destructive," the aged man's voice was solemn as he +took up the thread of conversation he had dropped. "Hate destroys you as +well as the people you hate." + +He broke off short to cup a hand behind his ear. + +"There _was_ a voice," he insisted in a hoarse whisper. + +"Yes, I heard it," Johnny replied, tense with sudden excitement. + +Ten minutes had passed. They were beginning to relax when the sound came +again. + +"Over to the right," MacGregor shrilled. "Turn her about quarterin' them. +Give her top speed." + +"Right." Johnny twisted the wheel. The motors roared. It was a bold step +that might have led to disaster. Should there be a boat out there setting +nets, and should they crash at that speed, what would it mean? Johnny did +not dare to think. + +"There!" MacGregor gripped the boy's arm. + +"Oh--ah!" Johnny groaned. "We missed them." + +It was true. Off to the left, for the space of seconds, they saw an +unmistakable dark, gray bulk. And then it was gone. + +"Our own speed defeated us," declared MacGregor. "Ah, well, better luck +next time." + +"Or worse," Johnny grumbled. + +Had he but known it, it was to be worse, much worse. + +"As for me," MacGregor said a half hour later, resuming his talk, "I +don't hate anybody. It's not worth while. Sometimes I hate the things +they do. Mostly, I try to think of good people and the good things they +do. + +"And that," his voice rose, "that's what I like about this job of ours. +If we can drive these Orientals from our shores we'll be doing good to +our own people, a whole lot of 'em. + +"Know what I see when I'm tired and I close my eyes?" he asked suddenly. + +"No. What?" Johnny grinned good-naturedly. + +"Children," MacGregor said in a mellow tone. "Children playing before an +open fire and their mother puttin' the crust on an apple pie in the +kitchen. And those, Johnny, are the children and wives of men way up here +scoutin' around in the cold and fog for salmon. We're servin' them, +Johnny, or at least we're trying to." + +Just then Blackie's head popped up out of the hatch. + +"See anything?" he demanded. + +"Plenty," said Johnny. + +"Yes, an' heard 'em," MacGregor added. + +They told Blackie what had happened. + +"So you think you heard them?" he asked. + +"Think?" MacGregor roared. "We _know_ we heard 'em." + +"Might have been a seal barking to his mate, or mebby a loon. You can't +be sure. Question is, if they're here, where's their nets?" Blackie came +up on deck. + +"Turn the boat north by east," he said to Johnny. "We're going in for a +rest." + +"Rest? What's that?" Johnny opened up a grand smile. + +"Something we don't have much of," said Blackie. "But this fog burns your +eyes. You're no good when you've been out too long. + +"There's a cabin on shore if only we can find it," he explained. "A +trapper's place, snug and warm. Red McGee told me about it. Trapper's +gone south with his furs. We're to make ourselves at home." + +Make themselves at home they did. After tying the _Stormy Petrel_ up at a +narrow dock they helped George up to the cabin with kettles, pans and +food supplies. Then, while a jolly wood fire roared in the huge stove +made of a steel gasoline barrel, laid on ends, they sprawled out on +rustic chairs to sniff the odor of roasting beef and baking pies and to +dream dreams. + +With his eyes closed, MacGregor was seeing "children and their mothers +putting the top crust on apple pies." In his dream Blackie held a +struggling Oriental by the collar of his coat and the seat of his +trousers. As for Johnny, he was seeing a round, freckled face all rosy +with smiles. Then, to his dismay he was seeing that same face take on a +somber look. + +"Rusty," he thought once again. "Will she ever forgive me?" + +The feast George had prepared was one fit for a king or even a big league +baseball player, and the sleep they had in that cabin resting among the +bleak Alaskan hills was the soundest Johnny had known for many a day. +Well it was that this should be, for Fate had much in store for him. + + + + + CHAPTER XV + A ROAR FROM THE DEEP + + +"It will be an hour or two before I can get out," Blackie said next +morning, standing up to stretch himself before the fire. "I want to go +over some maps Red McGee gave me. Lawrence can draw up a simple chart +that will keep us going right. + +"MacGregor," he turned to the aged Scotchman. "How would you like to take +Johnny for a circle or two in the fog? You might discover some evidence. +It's nets we want most. If we can discover some of those nets inside the +three-mile limit it will help a lot." + +"Like nothin' better," said MacGregor. "Come on, Johnny, let's get +goin'." + +MacGregor had spoken for both of them. Johnny was fond of the engineer. +He was old, mellow and kind, was MacGregor. This, he had confided to +Johnny, was to be his last year with the service. Another twelve months +and he would be pensioned. "And, Johnny," he had added, "I'm as eager as +any boy to have a part in something big before I am compelled to go." + +"I hope you can have," had been Johnny's heartfelt wish. + +So now, with the sun still low and the fog, it seemed, thicker than ever +before, they slipped out of the snug little natural harbor into the great +unknown that is any sea in time of fog. + +Standing at the wheel, Johnny watched the dark circle of water about +them. Ever they moved forward, yet never did this circle grow larger. It +was strange. + +There was life at this circle. Now a whole fleet of eider-ducks, resting +on their way north, came drifting into view. With a startled quack-quack +they stirred up a great splatter, then went skimming away. + +And now a seal with small round head and whiskers like a cat came to the +surface to stare at them. + +"Not worth much, that fellow," was MacGregor's comment. "Not much more +hair than a pig. + +"But look, Johnny!" his voice rose. "There's a real fur seal. His hide's +worth a pretty penny. Wouldn't have it long either, if those Orientals +sighted him. We used to have a hot time with 'em over the seals. Had to +pay 'em to get 'em to leave the seals alone. That was a shame. Have to do +the same with the salmon, like as not. We-- + +"Look, Johnny! What's that?" His voice suddenly dropped to a whisper, as +if he believed the fog had ears. "Right over to the left, Johnny. Ease +'er over that way." + +"Another seal," said Johnny. + +"It's no seal," MacGregor whispered. "Johnny!" His whisper rose. "We got +'em. It's a net marker. Inside the three-mile limit. An' it's none of Red +McGee's net markers either." + +"That--that's right," the boy breathed. + +"And there's the floats, Johnny! There they are!" + +Sure enough, leading away into the fog was a wavering line of dots. + +"We'll follow it," was MacGregor's instant decision. "See how much net +there is, then--" + +"I'll follow it," Johnny agreed. + +"Set the boat to go five miles an hour. I'll time you." MacGregor pulled +out his large, old-fashioned watch. "Now we'll see." + +For a full ten minutes, in silence, the two of them watched the +apparently never-ending line of net floats appear and disappear into the +fog. + +"Near two miles of it," MacGregor growled. "And yet no end. No wonder +some of our fine boys come in with empty boats. These Orientals, they +just find a place outside where the salmon run an' head 'em off. They-- + +"Slow up, Johnny!" he warned. "There's the end. Shut off the motor." + +The motor ceased to purr. Silence hung over the fog. A seal bobbed up his +head, then ducked. A large salmon, caught in the net close to the +surface, set up a feeble splatter. + +"Ease about," said MacGregor. "I'll pick up that net with this pike pole. + +"Now," he breathed, leaning far out over the rail, "now I got her. Now--" + +He had succeeded in getting his hands on the marker when catastrophe came +thundering up at them from the deep. A tremendous explosion sent the +water rocketing toward the sky. The prow of the _Stormy Petrel_ rose +until it seemed she would go completely over. + +Frantically Johnny gripped the wheel to save himself from being plunged +into the icy water. But where was MacGregor? + +For ten tense seconds the boat stood with prow in air. Then with a slow, +sickening swash, she came down. + +"MacGregor!" Johnny cried. "What happened? Where are you?" + +"Here--here I am!" MacGregor's voice rose from the sea. + +"Johnny!" his voice was hoarse with emotion. "Shove off that life boat. +Get her off just any way. There's a terrible hole in the _Stormy's_ side. +She'll sink in another minute. For God's sake, be quick!" + +Johnny was quick and strong. If ever his strength stood him in good stead +it was now. + +The life boat hung over the afterdeck. The knots of ropes that held it in +place were wet and stiff with fog. + +"No time," he muttered. With his knife he slashed away the ropes. The +boat fell on deck with a thud. It was a heavy steel boat. To his +consternation, he saw that it had fallen squarely between the heavy +rails. The prow must be lifted. Creeping under it, he put all the +strength of his back against it. It rose. + +"Now!" he breathed. "Now! And now!" + +The boat was on the rail. He could fairly feel the _Stormy's_ deck +sinking beneath him. She was doomed, there was no doubt of that. Those +heavy motors would take her down fast. + +Once again he heaved. The life boat was now a quarter over the rail, now +a third, now half. + +Leaping from beneath it, he executed a double movement, a shove and a +leap. He was in the life boat. The life boat plunged, all but sank, +swayed from side to side, then righted herself. + +There was a low, sickening rush of water. Johnny looked. The _Stormy_ was +gone. In her place were swirling water and in the swirl an odd collection +of articles; a coat, a cap, a pike pole, and MacGregor's checkerboard. + +"MacGregor!" Johnny called hoarsely. "MacGregor! Where are you?" + +"Here! Over here!" was the cheering response. "I had to get away. She +would have sucked me down." + +Seizing an oar, Johnny began sculling the boat. In a moment he was +alongside his companion. A brief struggle and MacGregor, watersoaked and +shivering, tumbled into the boat. + +"John--Johnny," his teeth were chattering. "There--there shou-should be +d-d-dry clothes in the stern." + +Dragging a half barrel from the prow, Johnny pulled out shirts, +underclothing, trousers, socks and shoes. + +"Seems you were looking for this," he chuckled as he watched the plucky +old man disrobe himself. + +"Johnny," said MacGregor. "In the Coast Guard service you are always +looking for it an' all too often you're not disappointed." + +When, a few minutes later, after a brisk rub-down, MacGregor had +struggled into dry clothes and had succeeded in lighting his pipe, he +said, "Well, me boy, we thought we had 'em an' now they've got us. We're +miles from anywhere in a fog. And that's bad! Mighty bad." + +"Do you suppose Blackie heard it?" + +"What? The explosion? 'Tain't likely. We're all of four miles from there. +Don't forget, we followed that net two miles. An' that explosion was +muffled by the water. + +"An' if he heard," he added after a brief pause, "what could he do? He's +four miles away. No compass. An' no boat except maybe a fishing skiff. +No, Johnny," his voice sounded out solemn on the silent sea. "For once in +our lives we are strictly on our own, you and me. + +"Well, me lad," he murmured a moment later. "They got us that time. +Attached some sort of bomb to their net, that's what they did. Safe +enough in a way, too, for how you goin' to prove it was their net? Yes, +they got us. But you wait, me lad, we'll be gettin' them yet." + + + + + CHAPTER XVI + LOOMING PERIL + + +Many times in his young life Johnny had been on his own, but never quite +like this. + +"Not a bit of good to row," was MacGregor's decision. "We've not the +least notion which way to go. If there was a breeze we might row by that. +There's no breeze." + +"No sun, moon or stars, either," Johnny agreed. + +For a full half hour they sat there in silence. Off in the distance a +seal barked. Closer at hand an eider-duck quacked to his mate. A sudden +scream, close at hand, startled them for an instant. It was followed by a +wild laugh. They joined in the merriment. It was only a loon. + +There came a wild whir of wings. A flock of wild ducks, flying low and +going like the wind, shot past them. + +"That's north," Johnny exclaimed. "They're going due north to their +nesting place. That's east," he pointed. "All we have to do is to row +that way. We'll come to land." + +"If you kept your course, which you couldn't," MacGregor chuckled. + +"It's worth trying. Anyway, I'm cold," Johnny began to row. "There may be +other bird flights to set me right." + +There were not, at least not for fifteen minutes. When at last a pair of +loons with long necks stretched straight before, passed them, to his +disgust, Johnny saw that the boat was headed due north. + +"Well," he sighed, dropping his oars, "At least I--" + +"Listen!" MacGregor put up a hand. + +Johnny listened. "Say! That's no seal." + +"Nor a bird either. That's a human sound." + +"Like someone trying to start a motor." + +"Just that." + +For a time the sound ceased. Then it began again. + +"Over to the left." Once again Johnny took up the oars. This time he +rowed slowly, silently. No telling whose motor had stalled. Fisherman, +trapper, or Oriental? Who could tell? + +Four times the sound ceased. Four times Johnny's oars rested on the +surface of the water. + +When, at last, a small, dark spot appeared on the surface of the sea, +Johnny fairly ceased to breathe. + +"Heck!" said a voice in that fog. + +"Doesn't sound like an Oriental," Johnny whispered. + +"Fisherman nor trapper either," replied MacGregor. + +Leaning even more gently on his oars, Johnny sent his boat gliding +forward. Then, of a sudden, he dropped his oars to stare. + +"It's that girl, Rusty," he whispered hoarsely. + +"The same," MacGregor agreed. + +There could be no doubt about it. The girl was bending over to give her +flywheel one more turn. Over her boy's shirt, high boots and knickers she +had drawn a suit of greasy coveralls. On her face, besides a look of grim +determination, there was a long, black smudge. + +"Heck!" she exclaimed once more. + +"Havin' motor trouble?" MacGregor spoke aloud. + +The girl started so suddenly that she all but lost her balance. Then, +after a brief spell of unbelieving silence, she said, "It's you, Mr. +MacGregor! How glad I am to see you! I've been lost for hours. I--I went +out to hunt the Shadow, that shadow you know. My motor's stalled. But +now--" + +"Now we're all lost together," MacGregor chuckled. + +To Johnny, the girl gave never a second look. + +"Do--do you suppose you could start it?" she said to MacGregor, nodding +at her motor. + +"No harm to try. At least we'll come aboard for a cup o' tea," MacGregor +chuckled. + +Johnny rowed the lifeboat alongside the girl's boat, the _Krazy Kat_, and +they climbed aboard. + +"She's not gittin' gas," said MacGregor, after he had turned the motor +over twice. + +"I know," the girl's brow wrinkled. + +Without saying a word, Johnny scrambled back to the box covering the gas +tank. After lifting the box off, he struck the tank a sharp rap. The tank +gave off a hollow sound. + +"You might try putting some gas in your tank," he said with a sly grin. + +"Oh, but there must be gas!" the girl exclaimed. "There must be." + +"Perhaps," said Johnny. "But it's empty. May be a leak." Drawing a small +flashlight from his pocket, he bent over and examined the offending tank. + +"Yep," he said, "there is a leak, a small hole, but big enough. Your gas +is in the bottom of the boat, along with the bilge water. Any reserve +supply?" + +"Not a bit." + +"Well, then, here we are." Johnny took a seat. "Now we have two boats and +there are three of us. The motor-boat won't go, but--" + +Suddenly he sprang to his feet. "You'd have a compass, wouldn't you?" + +"Ye-es," the girl replied with evident reluctance, "but it--it's out of +order. That's why I got lost." + +"Well, anyway," Johnny said with forced cheerfulness, "now there are +three of us. Two's company and three's a crowd. I always have liked +crowds. Besides," the corners of his mouth turned up, "you've got +something of a cabin." + +"Oh, yes." The girl seemed, for the moment, to forget that she was +speaking to one who had knocked her beloved daddy out. "Yes, there is a +cabin. There's a small stove and--and some wood. There's tea and some +pilot biscuits." + +"A stove, wood, tea and pilot biscuits?" Suddenly MacGregor seized her +and waltzed her about in a narrow circle. "Rusty, me child, you are an +angel." + +A half hour later found them comfortably crowded into Rusty's small +cabin. They were sipping tea and munching hard round crackers. + +"The fog'll lift after a while," MacGregor rumbled dreamily. "We lost our +boat. That's bad. But there's marine insurance. That's good. We'll have +another boat. I wonder," he paused to meditate, "wonder what Blackie and +the others are thinking by now." + +"And doing," Johnny suggested uneasily. + +"Yes, and doin'," MacGregor agreed. + +A half hour later, growing restless, Johnny crept from his corner, opened +the cabin door and disappeared up the narrow hatch. + +Ten seconds later he poked his head into the door to exclaim in a low, +tense voice, "MacGregor, come up here quick." + +MacGregor came. The girl came too. For a full half minute the three of +them stood there speechless. They were looking up and away. Their eyes +were wide and staring. + +"MacGregor," Johnny asked, "what is it?" + +"A ship," MacGregor whispered. "A thunderin' big ship. She's not two +hundred leagues away. She's not movin', just driftin'. That's how she +came close to us." + +"Wha-what ship is she?" + +"Who knows, son? But I'd lay a bet I could guess the country she came +from." + +"So--so could I." Johnny's throat was dry. + +"We--we," Rusty pulled her old sou'wester down hard on her head, "we'd +better get into the life boat and row away. It--it doesn't matter about +the _Krazy Kat_. It really doesn't." She swallowed hard. + +"We can try it," MacGregor agreed. "But I'm afraid it's too late. + +"Well," he added with a low, rumbling laugh. "We were lookin' for 'em. +Now we found 'em, we don't want 'em. Come on, an' mind you, never a +sound!" + + + + + CHAPTER XVII + TRAPPED + + +"It's no use. We're in for it." Five minutes later MacGregor dropped his +oars. From some spot close to that dark bulk against the sky had come the +throb of a motor. + +"Rusty, me child," the old man's voice was very gentle. "Be sure those +golden locks of yours are well tucked in. Whatever you do, don't remove +that sou'wester. For the present you are a boy. You must not forget." + +"I--I won't forget." Rusty's fingers were busy with her hair. + +"I only hope," the old man added soberly, "that my guess is wrong." + +Scarcely were the words out of his mouth when a smart little motor boat, +bright with red and white paint, hove into view. And on the deck, +scarcely less smart in brass buttons and braid, stood a small man with +slanting eyes. + +Those eyes appeared a trifle startled at sight of MacGregor. "A thousand +pardons." The little man's voice was smooth as oil. "What is that which +you wish?" + +"Only a few gallons of gasoline," said MacGregor. + +The lightning change on the little man's face was startling. It was as if +a dagger had suddenly flashed from his belt, yet his tone was smooth as +before. + +"Ah! You are out of gas? Very unfortunate. Your line, please. We shall +escort you to our ship." + +"But we don't want to go to your ship," MacGregor protested. "All we want +is gas." + +"Ah, yes, a thousand apologies. But here there is no gasoline, only at +the ship. Your line, please." + +"Say, you--" Johnny's angry voice was stopped by a heavy pressure on his +arm. + +"Give him our line, son," said MacGregor. + +Grudgingly Johnny obeyed. A moment later, with the two boats in tow, the +bright, little craft went rolling back toward that broad, black bulk. + +"It's no use to quarrel with 'em," MacGregor said in a sober whisper. +"We've fallen into their hands. I think that chap recognized me. I've +been along the Pacific waterfronts for many years. So have these +Orientals." + +"But--but what will happen?" Rusty asked. + +"Who knows?" was MacGregor's sober reply. "Let us hope for the best. +They'll not let us go now. When they're well beyond the three-mile limit +they may give us gas and let us go. + +"In the meantime, Rusty," he warned, "don't forget you're a boy. It's a +good thing you've got on knickers instead of a dress." + +They were brought alongside. A ladder was let down. They climbed aboard. +There they were ushered before one more small man who wore even more +brass and braid. Johnny thought with a touch of humor that he would make +a very fine monkey if only he had a cap, a tin cup and a string. + +When MacGregor requested that they be given gasoline and allowed to +leave, there were excuses, very profuse and polite, but quite formal. +There were reasons, very unfortunate reasons; too much fog, a storm +coming up, too few men to spare even one or two, to find the way alone +quite impossible. Oh, quite! + +The man, who beyond doubt was the captain, talked on and on. + +It all ended by the _Krazy Kat's_ being hoisted on board, by the little +party drinking very black and very hot tea with the much adorned captain, +and at last by their being escorted, for all the world as if they were +embarking on a long voyage, to a pair of staterooms on the second deck. + +For a time after the stateroom doors had been closed the surprised trio +stood staring first at one another and then at their surroundings. + +The two staterooms were joined by a door. There were two berths in each +stateroom. There were round portholes, no other windows. + +"That will be your stateroom, Rusty," MacGregor opened the door to the +one beyond. "Keep your outside door locked. + +"One thing more," hesitatingly he produced a pair of scissors, "I always +carry them," he explained. "A man doesn't live everywhere as I have done, +not in Alaska, without learning to cut hair. I'm a fair hand at it. +Rusty, me child, those rusty red locks of yours have got to come off." + +Without a word the girl dropped to a stool beside the berth. + +"Johnny," said MacGregor, "I suggest that you step outside and stand +guard. Don't leave the door, not more than three steps. If anyone comes +near, make some noise on the door." + +"Right," said Johnny. + +"Rusty," said MacGregor, "do you ever box?" + +"Oh yes, often." The girl's face flushed. "Often. Daddy and I box by the +hour." She gave Johnny a strange, fleeting look. + +"Good!" MacGregor exclaimed low. "Tonight we'll have an exhibition match, +just you and Johnny. Two boys showing these Orientals how to play. + +"And now," he nodded his head toward the door. + +Johnny opened it ever so softly, peered through the crack, and was gone. + +At the same moment the old man lifted the shabby sou'wester from the mass +of lovely hair, blew on his scissors, heaved a heavy sigh, then slashed +with apparent ruthlessness at a great handful of perfectly natural, +copper-colored curls. + +A half hour later the door opened a crack. + +Taking the cue, Johnny stepped inside. He stopped short when he looked at +Rusty. + +It was with the greatest difficulty that he suppressed a smile at what he +saw. The sou'wester was no longer needed. Good old MacGregor had done his +work well. Rusty's hair looked like a real boy's. + +"What a grand boy!" Johnny thought. And after that, "What a perfect brick +of a girl she is!" + +"Mac," he said a moment later, "there are twenty thousand fine big red +salmon up forward. I stepped around a hatchway far enough to see." + +"Twenty thousand," the old man murmured. "Our boys get fourteen cents +apiece just for catchin' 'em. Twenty-eight hundred dollars. A grand +livin' for two happy families. And that's the first haul. There'll be +many another unless someone stops 'em. + +"And we won't stop 'em," he added with a touch of sadness. "Not just yet. +But you wait!" he sprang to his feet. "We'll get a break yet." + + + + + CHAPTER XVIII + FIVE ROUNDS AND A FRIEND + + +It may seem a little strange that MacGregor and his young companions +accepted the whole situation so calmly. Yet the old man had lived long +and in many places. He was wise in the ways of the world. He realized +that they had already seen too much to be released at once. How long +would they be detained? To this question he could form no answer. Perhaps +until the end of the legal fishing season, twenty or more days away. +Perhaps longer. They might even be taken to the Orient. After that some +fantastic story might be told of their being picked up adrift on the high +seas. + +Johnny was thinking along these same lines. But he, unlike MacGregor, was +already laying plans for escape. For the present, however, he was willing +to bide his time. + +Dinner was brought to them by a smiling little brown man. It was not a +bad meal, as meals go on the sea--boiled rice, baked salmon and tea. + +When it was over, MacGregor slipped out into the gathering night. While +he was gone not a word was spoken. Johnny was busy with his own thoughts. +So, he supposed, was the girl who now looked so very much like a boy. + +He was thinking, "I wonder if there were shadows passing us in the fog. +Or did we imagine them?" Certainly he had seen nothing resembling a +shadow here. And this girl. Would she forgive him? Well enough he knew +that in trying times such as these people were either drawn closer +together or driven farther apart. He could only wait and see. + +"There's hope in the airplane that young Dan MacMillan is bringing up," +he thought with fresh courage. "If only he'd arrive and fly over this +ship we'd manage somehow to signal him and then the whole navy would be +on this old freighter's heels." + +He was thinking now of something told to him in secret by Red McGee. He +had been speaking of the cannery. It had been built by old Chad +MacMillan. A crusty, honest, fair-dealing man, he had managed it for many +years. + +"Then he died," Red had gone on, "and young Dan MacMillan, just out of +university and full of big ideas, inherited it. This winter I suggested +that he hire a seaplane to go out scouting for these Oriental robbers. + +"'It's a fine idea,' he said to me. 'A grand idea. I'll buy a seaplane +and learn to pilot it. You'll be seeing me up there scouting around as +soon as the salmon season opens.' + +"That's what he said to me," Red McGee had drawn in a deep breath. "These +wild young millionaires! What can you expect? He's not here now and like +as not won't show up at all." + +"What can you expect?" Johnny was thinking over his words now. "If only +Dan MacMillan showed up over this old craft all these little brown men +would be scared out of their skins." + +But would he come? He dared not so much as hope. + +He wondered about Lawrence and Blackie. He suffered a pang because of +Lawrence. What a shame that he had dragged the boy up here! He would be +far better off in Matanuska valley planting turnips and potatoes, hunting +wild geese, and, perhaps, catching a glacier bear way back in the +mountains. + +But here was MacGregor. And he carried in his hands, of all things, two +pairs of boxing gloves. Johnny had wondered where they were to come from, +but now here they were. + +"These little brown boys go in strong for boxing," the old man explained. + +"I told them," continued MacGregor, "that you were one of America's most +promising young boxers, but a little out of training." + +"Quite a little," Johnny agreed. + +"I said you and your boy pal would put on an exhibition match on deck +tonight." + +Rusty shot him a look, but said never a word. + +"I hope you understand," the old man said soberly, "that I am asking you +to do this for your own good." He was talking to Rusty. + +She bowed gravely. Then, of a sudden, her face brightened. "I hope they +take us lightly," she said. "That may give us a chance to escape." + +"That's what it will," MacGregor agreed. "And this boxin' stunt is just +the thing to put them off their guard." + +A half hour later, beneath a brilliant electric light, with a circle of +dark faces about them, Johnny and Rusty shook hands for the first time in +their lives, then drew on the gloves. + +Johnny had boxed strange people in many an out-of-the-way place. Never +before had he boxed with a girl. He was not sure he was going to like it +now. But with MacGregor as manager of the strange affair, there was no +turning back. + +It _was_ strange, there was no getting around that. A swaying light, a +host of sober, brown faces, the gray fog hanging over all, made it seem +fantastic indeed. + +There were to be five short rounds with MacGregor keeping time. + +At the very beginning, Johnny discovered that his opponent was fast and +skillful. Having no sons, Red McGee had taken it upon himself to train +his daughter in the manly art of boxing. Life on the bleak Alaskan shore +was often dull. The girl had welcomed each new lesson. And now Johnny was +discovering that her punches that from time to time reached his cheek or +chin, were far from love pats. They really stung, nor, try as he would, +could he entirely escape them. + +"She's taking it out on me because of her father," he thought grimly. +"Well, I can take it." + +What did the audience think of this affair? Who could tell? They watched +in silence. Once when Rusty was tossed into their midst they helped her +to her feet and pushed her into place. Their movements were so gentle, +the flitting smiles about their lips so friendly, that, for the moment, +the girl forgot her role and said, "Thank you." + +The rounds passed speedily. When the fourth and last was up, Johnny said +in a whisper, "Come on, Rusty, let's make this one snappy. Give them a +real show." + +Snappy it was. From the moment MacGregor gave them the signal they +whipped into it with a wild swinging of gloves. Rusty's footwork was +perfect. Johnny found himself admiring the manner in which, hornet-like, +she leaped at him for a sharp, stinging blow, then faded away. + +Perhaps he was admiring her too much. However that might be, in the last +thirty seconds of the bout he stepped into something. Trying for a bit of +reprisal in the way of a tap on her chin, he left an opening far too +wide. Rusty's eyes opened wide, her stout right arm shot out and up. It +took Johnny squarely under the chin and, "believe it or not," he went +down and out like a match. + +He was not out long, perhaps eight seconds. When at last his stubborn +eyelids opened he found himself looking at a circle of grinning brown men +and at Rusty who stood staring at him, but not smiling at all. + +"Well," he laughed, "that must square the McGee's with Johnny Thompson." + +"John--Johnny, please!" she cried. "I didn't mean to. I truly didn't." + +"All right." Johnny sprang to his feet. "Shake on it. Let's always be +friends." + +The girl made no response. There was no need. She did clasp his hand in a +grip that was friendly and strong. + +A half hour later they were having one more cup of tea in their +staterooms and Johnny was thinking, "Life surely is strange. I wonder how +this affair will end." + +Before he fell asleep he went over it all again. Blackie and Lawrence, +the silent, moving shadow, the hard-working men on shore, the airplane +that might come. When he was too far gone in sleep to think clearly he +fancied that he felt the ship's propeller vibrating, that the ship was on +the move. He was not sure. After all, what did it matter? There was +nothing he could do about it. And so, he fell fast asleep. + + + + + CHAPTER XIX + ORDERED BELOW + + +Back in the trapper's cabin Blackie was in a rage. He stormed at the +Orientals, at MacGregor, then at himself. From time to time he rushed out +on the small dock in a vain attempt to pierce the thick fog and to listen +with all his ears. + +"The robbers have got them," he muttered. "I should have known. That +shadow! It's done for them and for the _Stormy Petrel_." + +As night came on he settled down to sober thinking. "There's a fishing +skiff out there by the dock," he said to Lawrence. "We'll have to put it +in the water and make a try for the mainland. This cabin is on an island. +Mainland must be thirty miles away. We'll make it. We'll find some sort +of power boat. And then, by thunder! Things will get to popping!" + +Lawrence, too, was disturbed in his own quiet way. He knew a great deal +about Johnny. Many a time Johnny had been in a tight spot. Always, +somehow, he had come out safely. MacGregor was old and wise. And, after +all, this was not a time of war. Why need one worry too much? + +There were a number of tattered books on the shelf in the corner. +Evidently this trapper was something of a naturalist, for five of these +were about animals and birds. In browsing through these, the boy made a +real find, a picture of a glacier bear, a brief description, and the +history of the animal as far as known. + +It was with the feelings of a real discoverer that he read those words +over and over. When he had finished he said to himself, "If ever I see +one of those bears I'll know him." + +But would he? At the present moment those bears seemed as far away as the +moon. And yet, who could tell? + +At dawn next morning the three of them, George, the cook, Blackie and +Lawrence, carried their few supplies down to the dock, tacked a note on +the door, climbed into the broad, clumsy skiff and rowed into the fog. + +"We'll follow the shore as far as we can," said Blackie. "We'll have to +cross a broad stretch of open water, but I think I can manage that with +my pocket compass." + +When at last Lawrence saw even the small island disappear from sight, he +regretted the circumstances that appeared to make it necessary to leave +that comfortable retreat. + + +When Johnny and his friends came on board that same morning, they found +the fog still with them, but it was thinner. There was a suggestion of a +breeze in the air. + +"Going to clear," was MacGregor's prophecy. This, they were soon to +discover, did not concern them too much, at least not in the immediate +future. + +When they had eaten a strange mixture of rice and meat and had gulped +down some very bitter coffee, a little man with neither gold nor braid on +his uniform came up to them, saluted in a careless manner and said +simply, "Come." + +They followed him from one deck to another until they found themselves in +a vast place of steam and evil smells. + +When their eyes had become accustomed to the light and steam, they saw +long rows of men toiling and sweating over apparently endless tables. +Before the tables, on a conveyor, thousands of large salmon moved slowly +forward. + +"No iron coolie here," Johnny chuckled. "Everything is done by hand. +Heads off, tails, fins, all with big knives." + +"Please," said the little man. He was holding out a long, thin, oilskin +coat. Understanding his wish, Johnny put it on. Still wondering, he +watched MacGregor and the girl follow his example. + +"Please," said the little man again. "A thousand apologies." He was +holding out three long, sharp knives, at the same time pointing with his +other hand at a break in the solid line of salmon workers. + +"Why, the dirty little shrimp!" Johnny exploded. "He wants us to go to +work." + +"Steady, son," MacGregor warned. "They understand English. I fancy there +are worse places than this on the ship. We have no choice but to obey." + +Johnny muttered, but dropped into place to slash off a large salmon's +head. + +He had worked in a rebellious humor for a quarter of an hour when, on +looking up, he discovered that Rusty was performing the most disagreeable +task in the salmon line. She was cleaning the fish. Shoving past +MacGregor, he turned her half about as he muttered low, "You take my +place." + +To his great astonishment, he felt the girl whirl back to her place, give +him a hard push, then saw her resume her work. + +For a space of seconds he stood there stunned. Then he laughed low. The +girl was wise, much wiser than he had known. She was supposed to be a +boy. Boys were not gallant to one another. She would play the part to the +bitter end. Johnny returned to his task. + +"Mac," he was able to whisper at last, "why would they do this to us?" + +"You answer," was the old man's reply. "Sh-sh--" he warned. "Here comes a +big shot, one of the monkeys with gold buttons." + +As he passed the "big shot" smiled suavely at them, but said never a +word. + + + + + CHAPTER XX + A BATTLE IN THE DARK + + +Even at lunch time the toiling trio, Rusty, Johnny and MacGregor, were +not invited to have their lunch on deck. Instead, they were served, like +the coolie with whom they toiled, with great bowls of some mixture that +looked like soup. + +"Hm," MacGregor sighed, "fish chowder. And not bad." + +Rusty's eyes shone. "What a lark!" She laughed outright. "I only wish we +had a camera. My crowd down in Seattle won't believe me." + +Johnny looked at her in surprise and admiration. "Here's one girl with a +spirit that can't be broken," he thought. + +"Reminds me of a time I was on the Big Diomede Island on Bering Straits," +said MacGregor with a rumble of merriment. "We were cutting up a big +walrus. I saw an old woman working over the stomach of that walrus. Know +what the walrus lives on?" he demanded. + +"Clams," said Johnny. + +"Right. Bright boy," said MacGregor. "The thing that had happened was +this. The walrus had been down to the bottom. He'd ripped up the sand at +the bottom of the sea. He'd cracked a lot of clams and had swallowed 'em. +He hadn't digested 'em yet when we shot 'im. Know what that Eskimo woman +was doing?" + +"Can't guess." + +"She had a white pan and was savin' the clams from the walrus' stomach. +And that night," there came a low rumble from deep down in MacGregor's +throat, "that night we had seal steak and clam chowder for supper. An' I +took seal steak." + +"O-oh," Johnny breathed. + +"Mr. MacGregor," Rusty said with a gurgle, "you wouldn't spoil anyone's +dinner, would you?" + +"Not for the world," was the old man's solemn avowal. + +"Listen," MacGregor held up a hand. "I hear an electric generator going. +It's on this deck. I wonder why? I'm going for a little walk." + +"They'll chase you back." + +"That's all they can do." He was away. + +"The ship's beginning to sway a little," Johnny said. "Shouldn't wonder +if we'd get a storm." The girl could not suppress an involuntary shudder. + +"Johnny," she leaned close to speak almost in a whisper. "When we used +coolie labor I learned to talk with them a little. I've been talking to +the coolie who cuts off fish's heads next to me. He says they expect to +have a boatload of fish in a week or ten days. Then they'll go back to +the Orient." + +"And if we go with them?" Johnny breathed. + +"I've seen pictures of the Orient." The girl's eyes were closed. "It's +gorgeous. It truly must be." + +"Do you think we'd get to see anything?" + +"Why not?" the girl laughed low. "It's all there to see. At least they +can't keep us from dreaming." + +"No, they surely cannot." At that Johnny did some very choice dreaming, +all his own. + +He was wakened from these dreams by the return of MacGregor. "It's the +strangest thing!" he exclaimed. "I got a look into that place. There's a +huge generator an' it's chargin' batteries." + +"Batteries!" Johnny exclaimed in surprise. + +"Sure! Banks and banks of large batteries." + +"When submarines go under water," Johnny spoke slowly, "they use +batteries for power. What do you think?" + +"I don't think," said MacGregor. "Anyway, here's our little boss. He +wants us to resume our duties as first-class cleaners of sock-eyed +salmon." + +As the day wore on Johnny watched Rusty ever more closely. The heavy, +unpleasant work, together with the ever-increasing roll of the ship, was +telling. He was not surprised that, after the day was over and they were +allowed to go to the upper deck, she took his arm to lean on it heavily. + +"Johnny, I won't give up. Please help me not to give up." + +Johnny looked down at her with a reassuring smile. + +As they stepped on deck they found themselves looking at a new world. +Gone was the fog. In its place was racing blue waters, flecked with foam. + +"A storm!" the girl shuddered. + +"Just too dark to see land," Johnny groaned. "If it wasn't, we might get +our location and then--" + +"Then what?" she whispered. + +"I have some plans. We--" + +"Sh--an officer!" she warned. + +At the evening meal Rusty ate hard, dry crackers and drank scalding tea. +She was still putting up a brave struggle against being sea-sick. + +When darkness came they went below. Rusty retired at once. Johnny threw +himself, all dressed, upon his berth, but did not sleep. + +An hour later a shadowy figure passed him. It was Rusty. She was carrying +blankets. Without a sound, he followed her. Arrived on deck, he saw her +at the rail. Understanding, he dropped down upon a wooden bench. + +After what seemed a long time, she turned and saw him. Swaying as she +walked, she came toward him to drop down at his side. She did not say, "I +am so sick!" She was too game for that and there was no need. He wrapped +her in the blankets. Then they sat there in silence. + +The wind was rising steadily. It went whistling through the rigging. +Ropes banged and yard-arms swayed. A shadow shot past them, a watch on +duty. Lights shone on the blue-black sea. It was a truly wild night. + +Of a sudden a form stood before them. Clutching a steel cable, it clung +there. + +"Thousand pardons," it hissed. "Cannot stay here. It is forbidden." + +"My friend is sick. We stay." Johnny felt his anger rising. + +"Thousand pardons," came once more. "Cannot stay." + +"Million pardons," Johnny half rose. "We stay." + +A hand reached out. It touched Rusty's shoulder. That was enough. Johnny +leaped at the man. They went down in a heap. A second more and Johnny +felt a steel clamp about his neck, or so it seemed. + +"Jujitsu," he thought in sudden consternation. Throwing all his strength +into an effort to break the man's grip, he failed. Coughing, trying to +breathe, failing, strangling, he felt his strength going when, of a +sudden, he caught the sound of a blow, then felt the hated arm relax. Ten +seconds more and he was free. + +"You--you hit him," he managed to breathe. "Is he dead?" + +"No--no. Watch out!" the girl warned. + +Just in time Johnny caught the man. This time, gripping him by collar and +trousers, he dragged him from the floor. And then, screaming like some +wild thing, the brown man found himself hanging out over an angry sea. + +"Johnny, don't!" The girl's hand was on his arm. + +"Oh, all--all right." + +Swinging the brown man in, he dropped him on the deck. Like a scared +rabbit, the intruder went racing off on all fours. + +"Now I've done it," Johnny groaned as he dropped back in his place. + +"Perhaps," said Rusty. "Still, you can't tell." + + + + + CHAPTER XXI + WALL OF GLASS + + +Rusty was not the only one disturbed by this storm. At the very moment +when Johnny was at grips with the Oriental on the ship's deck, Lawrence, +Blackie and George were battling for their very lives. + +What had happened? The distance from the trapper's cabin to shore was, +they had discovered, far greater than they had supposed. When at last the +fog cleared they found themselves far from any shore on a black and +threatening sea. + +"Might as well keep headed for the mainland," was Blackie's decision. + +Head for the mainland they did. After that, for hours, with the storm +ever increasing in intensity, they rowed as never before. + +The clumsy oars were rough and hard to manage. Lawrence's hands were soon +blistered. Tearing strips from his shirt, he bound them up and rowed on. + +Fortune favored them in one thing. They were going with the wind. Had +they been forced to face into the storm, their boat would have been +swamped at once. As it was, just as darkness began to fall the skiff +began to fill. + +"Lawrence, you start bailing," Blackie commanded. "George and I will +row." + +"Ya-as, sir, we'll row. Don't nebber doubt dat," George agreed. Then he +began to sing, + + "Roll, Jordan, roll. + Oh! Oh! Oh! I want to go dere + To hear old Jordan roll." + +Lawrence thought with a shudder that he might be there to hear Jordan +roll before day dawned. + +By constant bailing he was able to keep the skiff from swamping. So, +chilled to the bone, hoping against hope, he labored on. + +When at last they found themselves near to some shore, his heart failed +him. + +"Towering rocks," he groaned. + +"There's a break in those rocks," said Blackie. "I saw it before dark. +We'll follow along and here's hoping." Once more he put his stout +shoulders to the oars. + +A half hour passed, an hour, two hours. Numb with cold and ready to drop +from exhaustion, Lawrence wondered if Blackie could have been wrong. Was +there a break in that wall? And then--he saw it. + +"There!" he exclaimed. "There it is. Straight ahead!" + +He dared not add that it seemed a strange break. Not very deep, it +appeared to give off an odd sort of glimmer at its back. + +Just as they were ready to enter the gap, a great cloud went over the +moon and all was black. + +Steering more from instinct than sight, they rowed on. To Lawrence, at +that moment, the suspense was all but overpowering. Where were they +going? Could they find a landing? What was the end to be? + +One thing was encouraging, the waves in this place were not so wild. They +no longer dashed into the boat. So with darkness hanging over them they +rowed, for what seemed an endless time, but could have been only a few +moments, straight on into the unknown. + +And then. "Man! Oh, man! What was that?" The boat had crashed into an +invisible wall. + +Lawrence put out a hand. "Glass!" he exclaimed. "A wall of glass." + +"Not glass, son," Blackie's voice was low. "A wall of ice. The end of a +glacier. This is a spot where icebergs break off. If one of them had been +jarred loose by the bang of our boat--and if they had been sent tumbling +by the sound of a voice--man! Oh, man! We would be lost for good and +all." + +"Blackie, look!" Lawrence spoke in a hoarse whisper. "A light." + +"It's a star," said Blackie. + +"A light," Lawrence insisted. + +"Yas, man! A light," George agreed. + +Just then the moon came out, revealing a sloping mountain side. And, +close to a shelving beach was a cabin. The light shone from that cabin. + +"Oh! Oh! Lord be praised!" George whispered fervently. + +Ten minutes later, as they drew their boat up on the beach, the cabin +door was thrown open and a man, holding a candle close to his face, +peered into the darkness to call, "You all come right on up, whoever you +all are." + +"That," said Lawrence in a surprised whisper, "is Smokey Joe." + +"Smokey Joe, you old bear-cat!" Blackie shouted. + +The grizzled prospector let out a dry cackle. "Come on up an' rest +yerself," he welcomed. "I got a Mulligan on a-cookin'." + +At first Lawrence found it hard to believe that this was really Smokey +Joe. "How," he asked himself, "could he come all this way?" As he studied +a faded map on the deserted cabin's wall, however, he realized that the +distance overland was short compared to the way they had traveled by +water. + +Joe's Mulligan stew proved a rich repast. He had killed a young caribou +two days before. There had been bacon and hardtack in his kit. Besides +these, he had found dried beans and seasoning in the cabin. + +"Yep," he agreed, as Blackie complimented him after the meal was over, +"hit's plum grand livin' when you sort of git the breaks. + +"An' listen," his voice dropped. "Hit's plumb quare how things git to a +comin' yer way. Yesterday I found gold. Struck hit rich, you might say." +From a moose-hide sack he tumbled a handful of nuggets. + +"Gold!" Blackie exclaimed. + +"Yup. Hit's might nigh pure gold," the old man agreed. "Nuther thing +that's plumb quare. Hit's nigh onto that little blue bear's den." + +"What?" Lawrence started up. "A blue bear! A--a glacier bear?" + +"Reckon you might call 'em that," the old man agreed. + +"He's been a-stayin' in a sort of cave up thar fer a right smart spell." + +"How--how far is it?" Lawrence asked almost in a whisper. + +"Hit--I reckon hit's--" the old man studied for a moment. "Why, hit's +right about three peaks, a look an' a right smart." + +"What does that mean?" Blackie asked in a surprised tone. + +"Wall, you jest climb one of them thar least mounting peaks," the old man +explained. "Then another, an' another." + +"Three peaks," said Blackie. + +"Fer startin'," said Smokey Joe. "Arter that you take a look an' hit's a +right smart furder than you can see." + +"Perhaps about ten miles," suggested Blackie after they had had a good +laugh, which Smokey Joe took good-naturedly. + +"Near on to that," the old man agreed. + +Long after the old man had rolled himself in his blankets and fallen +asleep Lawrence and Blackie sat beside the cracked stove talking. + +"Blackie," Lawrence said in a husky voice, "that little blue bear is +worth a lot of money. The Professor told us he'd trade us a tractor for +one. They're rare, about the rarest animals on earth. There's not one in +captivity anywhere." + +"That won't help much," Blackie grumbled. "If this wind goes down, we've +got to get out of here at dawn. Something's happened to Johnny and +MacGregor. We've got to look for them." + +"Yes," Lawrence agreed. "But if the wind doesn't go down?" + +"We'll have to stay here," said Blackie. "And," with a low chuckle, "we +might go 'three peaks, a look and a right smart' looking for your +blue-eyed bear." + + + + + CHAPTER XXII + DREAMS + + +"Johnny," Rusty's voice was low, husky with strangely mingled emotions, +"when we are back at the cottage, I'll make a big pan of ice-box cookies. +We'll take them with a big bottle of hot cocoa. We'll go out on a sunny +rock and have a feast." They were still on the deck of the rolling ship +and it was still night. + +Rusty's voice rose. "And such sunshine! Nowhere in the world is it so +glorious." + +"All right," Johnny agreed. "Ice-box cookies, hot chocolate and sunshine. +That will be keen." + +"Dreams," he was thinking. "How often when things are hard, very hard, we +dream." As he closed his eyes now he could see dead salmon in endless +rows. He could hear the monotonous drone of brown men and the endless +wash-wash of the sea. "How grand at times to dream of other things far +away!" he said. "And what a joy to know of other places where we have +been gloriously happy." + +"Yes," she agreed, "that is wonderful. And Johnny," she went on, "we have +a home in Seattle, father and I. It is small, but, oh, so beautiful! +Climbing roses and pine trees. There's a lake before it. There is a +dancing pavilion not far away where the boys and girls I know best come. +There they swing and sway to bewitching waltz time. _Over the Waves_, +_Blue Danube_ and all the rest. Johnny, will you come sometime and join +us there?" Her voice seemed dreamy and far away. + +"Yes," said Johnny. "Some day I'll come." + +"But first," he thought savagely, "I'll see this infernal boat at the +bottom of the sea." + +For a time after that they were silent. Once again they heard the beating +of ropes against spars, the wail of the wind and the dash of spray on the +deck. How was all this to end? + +"Rusty," Johnny said, "I would like to leave you for a while." + +"Why?" + +"There's something I want to do. You know," he leaned close, speaking in +a hoarse whisper, "there's a hole in the gas tank of your boat." + +"Yes, but--" + +"We may get a break. Your boat was put on deck after two others. That +means they'll have to put her in the water before taking the others off. +If there was gas in her tank we might slip down to her and get away." + +"But the gas, Johnny?" + +"There are two large cans in another boat. I saw them. I--I'm going to +plug up that hole in your tank, then try to fill it from the cans." + +"They--they may catch you." Her voice trembled. + +"I'll take a chance." He rose without a sound. "I'm off. If I don't come +back, tell good old MacGregor." + +"I--I'll tell him." Her whisper was lost in the wind. He was gone. + +Creeping along the swaying deck, dodging behind a lifeboat when the watch +appeared, scooting forward, then pausing to listen, he at last reached +the side of the _Krazy Kat_. + +After securing the cans of gasoline, he lifted them to the deck of +Rusty's small boat. Then, with a deft swing, he threw himself after the +cans. The deck was wet with fog. Slipping, he went down in a heap, but +made no sound. + +Feeling about in the dark, he found the tank and the leak. A sharpened +splinter of wood stopped the hole. + +"Now the gas," he whispered. This he knew would be most dangerous of all. +Cans have a way of gurgling and popping in an alarming manner. The +gurgle, he concluded, would not matter. It would not be heard above the +roar of the wind and the wash of the sea. But the tinny bangs? Ah, well, +he'd have to risk it. + +When one can was emptied into the _Krazy Kat's_ tank, he heaved a sigh of +relief. The second was half-emptied when he caught the sound of +footsteps. + +"The watch!" Consternation seized him. Flattening himself on the deck, he +clung to the still gurgling can. + +The sound of footsteps ceased. His heart pounded. Was he caught? Seconds +seemed minutes. If the can popped he was lost. Ten seconds, twenty, +thirty--again the footsteps. Then they grew indistinct in the distance. + +"Ah," the boy breathed. + +Just then the all but empty can gave forth a loud bang! + +Johnny jumped, then lay flat, listening with all his ears. For at least +two full minutes he remained there motionless. The watch did not return. + +With great care he lifted the empty cans from the deck of the _Krazy Kat_ +to toss them into the foaming sea. Then, stealthily as before, he made +his way back to Rusty's side. + +"I--I did it," he shrilled. "Now for a good break and we're away." + +"Here--here's hoping." She drew her hand from beneath the blankets to +grip his own. + +"MacGregor, what do you think they'll do to me?" Johnny asked an hour +later. The storm had partially subsided. Rusty was feeling better. They +were back in their staterooms. Johnny had told the old man of the night's +adventure. + +"It's my opinion," said MacGregor, "that you'll be shot at sunrise." + +"That won't be so bad," said Johnny, joining in the joke. + +"Not half-bad," MacGregor agreed. "I mind an Eskimo we shot up there in +the far north. He'd killed a white man. The revenue cutter came along an' +the judge tried him. + +"When the judge's decision had been arrived at, they told this Eskimo to +stand up. + +"Well, sir, he stood there stiff an' straight as any soldier. He was sure +he had been condemned to die and that he was to be shot. They're a sturdy +lot, those Eskimos. + +"Well," MacGregor paused to laugh. "They set a thing up an' aimed it at +the Eskimo. Something clicked. The Eskimo blinked. But nothin' else +happened. + +"The white men folded things up and left. But the Eskimo still stood +there, not knowin', I suppose, whether he was dead or alive. + +"Know what happened?" he concluded. "He'd been found innocent and they +had taken his picture. + +"For all I know," he added, "he's livin' still an' so'll you be, me boy, +forty years from today. + +"What can they do?" he demanded. "They don't dare harm us." + +"I wouldn't trust them too far," said Johnny. + +"Nor I," Rusty agreed. + + + + + CHAPTER XXIII + IN THE BLUE BEAR'S CAVE + + +It was with a feeling of great uneasiness that Johnny came on deck next +morning. What was to happen? Had that little brown man told the story of +their struggle in the night? And if he had? He shuddered. + +Yet, strange to say, the day wore on in perfect peace. They were not even +asked to go below and clean fish. The reason for this was apparent, the +fish on deck had been taken care of. Since the storm was still roaring +across the sea, no others could be brought in. During the forenoon two +small, motor-driven crafts came close to stand by. + +"They belong to this outfit," MacGregor declared. "They may have salmon +below-deck. They're afraid of the storm. That's why they don't come in. + +"Ah, well," he sighed. "We're here for the day at least. Even if your +_Krazy Kat_ was in the water, Rusty, we couldn't risk her in a storm like +this." + +"These Orientals are a queer lot," Johnny mused. + +"Queer's no name for it, me boy," said MacGregor. "As for me, I don't +trust 'em. They're like children, just when they're makin' the least +noise is when you're sure they're up to some mischief." + +Was this true? Johnny shuddered anew, but said never a word. + +They discovered during their lunch in their stateroom at noon that there +was something vaguely familiar about the brown boy who brought the lunch. +Johnny stared at him. But Rusty exclaimed in a whisper, "Kopkina! You +here?" + +The boy made a motion for silence. "I am spy," he whispered. "Red McGee +good man. Me, I, Red McGee man. + +"You listen," his voice dropped to a whisper. "I tell 'em, that one +captain this ship, tell 'em you Red McGee boy." He nodded to Rusty. "Tell +'em Red McGee mebby plenty mad. Plenty 'fraid Red McGee. They not punish +you for fight on deck last night. Must go now." He disappeared through +the door. + +"Boy!" Johnny breathed. "I'm feeling better already." + +Two hours later they had added cause for feeling better. Just when the +sea was beginning to calm a little they caught the drum of a motor. As +Johnny heard it his heart stood still, then leaped. + +"A motor," he breathed. "That's a powerful motor. If only it's Dan +MacMillan and his seaplane." + +"It is! It is!" Rusty's voice rose to a high pitch. "There! There it is. +See!" + +Johnny did see. He pointed it out to MacGregor. They all leaned on the +rail watching the seaplane approach. + +"If it's only Dan," MacGregor breathed. + +There came the sound of rushing feet. Apparently every little brown man +on the boat had heard those motors. They came swarming onto the deck. + +"If it's Dan MacMillan," said MacGregor, "there's sure to be someone with +him." + +"They'll be looking for us," said Rusty. + +"Yes, and we'll have to find a way to let them know we're here," Johnny +added. + +"That," said MacGregor, "is going to be hard, with all these." His glance +swept the brown throng. + +"Tell you what!" Johnny exclaimed. "Rusty and I might do a little boxing +bout. There's sure to be someone on the plane who knows us." + +"And they'll recognize you by your actions," MacGregor agreed. "It's a +capital idea. I'll go for the gloves." + +And so it happened that, as the seaplane flew over the ship, circled, +then dipping low, passed within a hundred feet, those in it witnessed a +strange sight--two white youngsters staging a boxing match for the +benefit of a host of little brown men, who, truth to tell, gave them +scant attention. + +"I only hope they recognized us," said Johnny, throwing his gloves on the +deck. + +"You and me too," said Rusty. "Anyway," she laughed, "that's one time I +didn't knock you out." + +Whatever impression this little drama may have made upon the occupants of +the seaplane, the effect of the appearance of the seaplane on the little +brown men was apparent at once. On every face as the seaplane went +winging away MacGregor read consternation. + +"They're afraid," he grumbled low to his young companions. "Down deep in +their hearts they are afraid." + +"What will they do now?" Rusty asked anxiously. + +"They're already doin' it," said MacGregor, calling attention to the rush +and bustle on board. "Puttin' the ship in shape. It wouldn't surprise me +if they weighed anchor within the hour. And if they do, me lassie," he +added, "you may be lookin' on them Oriental cities within a week, for +they'll be headin' straight for home." + +"Oh-o," Rusty breathed. But she said never a word. + + +On that same morning in Smokey Joe's cabin Lawrence was up before the wee +small hours had passed. After one good look at the sea, which was still +rolling high, he dashed back into the cabin to find Blackie staring at +him wide awake. + +"Black-Blackie," he stammered. "I--I hate to disturb you. But--but that +blue bear--" + +"I know." Blackie sat up. "Three peaks, a look and a right smart ho, +hum." + +"Blackie! It's terribly important. Just think! A little blue bear. The +only one in captivity, if we get him." + +"I know." Blackie slid out of his bunk. "Get the fire going. Put the +coffee pot on. We'll be off in a half hour." + +"Oh, think--" + +"Put the coffee on!" Blackie roared. + +After tacking an old shirt to a pole as a signal of distress to any boat +that might pass and instructing Smokey Joe to be on the lookout, Blackie +drew a rough map, showing where, according to Smokey's direction, the +bear's cave might be found. After that he led the way over the first +"peak." + +These peaks were, they discovered, mere ridges. The distance was, in +reality, much shorter than they had thought. + +"This is the place," Lawrence said, an hour and a half later. "It must +be." + +"It is," Blackie agreed. "There are the two scrub spruce trees with +Smokey's blaze on them." + +"And there's the cave!" Lawrence was greatly excited. + +"Not much of a cave," said Blackie. "Might be quite some bear at that. +Wait." + +With a small hatchet he hacked away at a dry spruce knot until he had a +pitch-filled torch. This, with the aid of some dry shavings, he lighted. + +"Now," he breathed. "Give me one of the ropes. We'll have to manage to +tangle him up somehow. I'll lead the way." + +"Al-all right," Lawrence's tongue was dry. + +The floor of the dark grotto was strewn with pebbles. To walk without +making a noise was impossible. + +"Wait! Listen!" Lawrence whispered when they had covered some twenty +paces. + +As they paused, they caught a low hissing sound. + +"Snakes," the boy suggested. + +"Not here. Too cold. It's the bear. Get your rope ready." + +Slowly, cautiously they moved forward. + +"There! There are his eyes." Two balls of fire appeared directly before +them. + +And then things began to happen. A low snarl was followed by the sound of +scattered pebbles. Blackie was hit by the rushing bear and bowled over +like a ten pin. But Lawrence, quick as a cat, saw a hairy head, aimed a +short swing and let go his rope. + +Next instant he was shouting: "Blackie! Quick! Help! I got him! I got +him!" + +The husky little blue bear dragged them both to the very entrance of the +cave. There, panting and tearing at the rope, he paused to glare at them. +The rope was drawn tight about his shoulders with one foreleg through the +loop. + +Blackie, who was both fast and strong, made quick work of what remained +to be done. Fifteen minutes later, carrying the live bear slung between +them on a pole, they headed for the cabin. + +To their great joy, as they neared the cabin, they saw one of Red McGee's +gill-net boats awaiting them in the little bay. Smokey Joe had flagged it +down. + +After a hasty, "Thank you and goodbye" to Smokey, they tossed their +priceless captive into the after cabin of the stout, little motor-boat to +head straight away over a rolling sea toward still more adventure, of +quite a different nature. + + + + + CHAPTER XXIV + OVERTAKING A SHADOW + + +Once again it was night. The wind had gone down with the sun. The sea was +calm. On board the Oriental ship there was a strained air of tense +expectancy. + +"I can't understand what's keepin' 'em here," MacGregor said in a low +tone to his young companions. "It's plain that they're scared stiff of +that seaplane. Looks like they'd heave anchor and be away any minute. And +if they do--" There was no need to finish. Both Johnny and Rusty knew +that this would mean a trip to the Orient under circumstances stranger +than any fiction. + +"They seem to be waiting for something," said Johnny. + +This was true. All the little brown men not stationed at posts of duty +were standing along the rail looking away toward the distant shores that +were lost in the night. + +"They'll be back," MacGregor said, thinking of the men on the seaplane. +"Looks like it's a race against time. But what are they waiting for?" + +It was not long until they should know. As they stood there, nerves +a-tingle, listening, a distant confusion of noises came to them. + +"If there were a war," said MacGregor, "I'd say it was rifle and +machine-gun fire." + +This notion was too fantastic to be seriously considered. But what was +it? + +Second by second the sound increased in volume. "Can this be what they're +looking for?" Johnny asked. + +If so, these little men welcomed it in a strange manner. Short, sharp +commands were given. Scores of men went into frenzied action. + +"Look!" Rusty gripped Johnny's arm. "They're lowering my boat into the +water." + +"And it's got gas in the tank. All ready to turn over and start. If +only--" + +"That's motors we're hearin'," MacGregor broke in. "A thunderin' lot of +'em! I shouldn't wonder--" + +"MacGregor," Rusty seized his arm, "our boat is in the water. They are +all crowding the rail again. This may be our chance." + +"So it may," the old man agreed. "Follow me. Not a sound!" + +"I'll get Kopkina," offered Johnny. "I just saw him on deck." + +Dodging behind a life-raft Rusty and MacGregor went scurrying along in +the dark and Johnny and Kopkina soon joined them. + +"It--it's just here," Rusty whispered. + +"We--we need a rope ladder," Johnny exclaimed low. + +"Here's one," came in MacGregor's cheering voice. "Let her over easy +now." + +"Now," he breathed. "Over you go." + +The speed with which they went down that ladder, all but treading on one +another's fingers, would have done credit to the U. S. Navy. + +"Now I'll cut her loose," said MacGregor. "All right, Rusty, turn her +over." + +The fly-wheel whirled. The splendid motor began a low put-put-put. They +were away into the dark. + +"They'd have trouble findin' us," MacGregor murmured. + +"But listen!" Johnny exclaimed. + +The sound of many motors had doubled and redoubled. Just as they were +about to swing around the prow of the ship, something long, dark and +silent shot past them. + +"The Shadow!" Johnny exclaimed. + +It was true, this was the Shadow. But at last the Shadow was not going to +escape. After it thundered a powerful speedboat and as she shot past them +the excited trio saw a burst of flames and caught the rat-tat-tat of a +machine gun. + +This was followed instantly by a wild scream from the Shadow which +sounded very much like a sign of surrender. At the same time the sea +seemed fairly ablaze with lights from many boats. + +Johnny's head was in a whirl. What was happening? Without knowing why she +did it, Rusty seized him by the arm and held him tight while she +screamed, "Johnny! It's wonderful! Wonderful!" + +What had happened may be quickly told. When Blackie and his crew failed +to return, and Rusty as well, there had been consternation about the +cannery. There was little use searching Bristol Bay in a fog. When, +however, Dan MacMillan appeared in his seaplane, they went into action. +Red McGee climbed into the cockpit and they were away. They had circled +for an hour when they sighted the Oriental ship. + +As they flew over it Red McGee experienced no difficulty in getting the +unusual signals Johnny and Rusty had set up for him. He recognized the +boxing forms of both Rusty and Johnny. + +Realizing that his daughter would be on board that ship only against her +will, he went into a wild rage. He demanded that the seaplane be landed +close to the ship and that he be allowed to "tackle the whole lot of 'em +single-handed." + +To this young MacMillan, would not consent; for, in the first place, the +sea was too rough for a landing and in the second, he was not willing as +he later expressed it, "To see a good man commit suicide by tackling a +hundred Orientals single-handed." + +He had flown back to their base. By the time they reached the cannery, +Red had cooled off. + +"I want every last boat gassed up for an emergency run," he commanded. +"Any of you men that have guns, get 'em loaded and ready. There's a +couple o' whale-guns up at my cabin. You, Pete and Dan, get 'em an' see +that they're loaded. We'll show 'em." + +They were about ready for a start when Blackie and his men arrived on the +scene. + +"Blackie," Red exploded, "they've got Rusty and your boy, Johnny. They're +holdin' 'em captive. Come on! We'll start a war!" + +For once, Blackie did not say, "No." After they had turned the small, +blue bear loose in a sheet-metal tool-shed he climbed into Dan +MacMillan's speed boat, dragging Red and Lawrence with him, and they were +away. + +It was this speedboat that had spied the Shadow. They had given it chase +and had, as you have seen, at last, after sending a volley of machine-gun +bullets across its bow, overhauled it. + +The Shadow was the very craft that had been awaited by the Oriental ship. +Had it put in an appearance two hours sooner, the ship must surely have +weighed anchor and our story might have been much longer. As it was, the +Orientals were destined to wait a long, long time before lifting the +Shadow on deck, if at all. + +While Johnny and Rusty looked and listened, the whole cannery fleet, +every small deck bristling with guns, surrounded the ship. + +Having overhauled the Shadow, Blackie placed it in charge of another +craft, then came gliding in alongside the _Krazy Kat_. + +"MacGregor," he said in a husky voice, "tell me what happened." MacGregor +told him. Hardly had he finished when a small motor launch carrying three +little brown officers arrived. The officers were fairly aglow with gold +and braid. + +"A thousand pardons," their leader began. He was allowed to go no +farther. + +"Listen!" Blackie stood up. He was dressed in corduroy trousers and a +leather jacket. His face was working strangely. + +"Listen," he repeated. "No apologies, not a thousand, nor even one. I'll +do the talking." His voice was low. "I know why you're here. To catch our +fish. You sank our boat. You have an hour to get your ship headed out of +Bristol Bay. We'll take that Shadow of yours with us. We caught her +lifting nets inside the three-mile limit. That makes her a fair prize. + +"As to the sinking of the _Stormy Petrel_, I shall make a complete +report. The matter shall be taken up by our diplomats. + +"I might add, for your further information, that a law is now before our +Congress making Bristol Bay United States waters, open to our fishermen +alone. It will pass. If you care to come back next year we will meet you +with three destroyers. + +"And now, gentlemen," he doffed a ragged cap, "I bid you good-night." + +Clicking their heels, without a single apology, the officers saluted, +then the power boat lost itself in the shadows. + + + + + CHAPTER XXV + "BILL" RETURNS + + +"Rusty, my child," said Red McGee, springing aboard the _Krazy Kat_ as +soon as the Orientals were gone, "are you all right?" + +"Never better," Rusty laughed. "And never half so excited. I--I'm all +right," she added, "except that I'll have to grow a new crop of curls." + +"Curls," Red chuckled. "They're not very necessary. Not even for a girl. + +"Going back with us in the speed boat?" he asked. + +"No-o, if you don't mind," she hesitated. "We've been together so long, +the three of us, MacGregor, Johnny, and I, that I--I think we'd like to +follow you back in the _Krazy Kat_." + +"O.K.," Red agreed. "Kopkina, suppose you come with me. I want to thank +you for what you've done for us. Now let's get going." + +Already the Oriental ship that had never been welcome was slipping out +into the night. + +On the way back Johnny and Rusty spent most of their time studying the +stars and the moon. Just what they read there only they will ever know. + +The secret of the Shadow was found to be quite simple, as most secrets +are. It was a long, low craft without deck, cabins, rails or riggings. +Powered by large storage batteries, it was able to slip in close to +shore, set a three-mile-long net at night and lift it in the morning. The +fish were rushed to other motor-boats outside the three-mile zone and +were then carried to the floating cannery. + +After installing a gasoline motor, Blackie used the Shadow for sea +patrol. No demand for the return of the craft was made. Needless to say, +the duties of Blackie, MacGregor, Johnny and Lawrence were exceedingly +light for the remainder of the season. + +The small blue bear throve on fish-cleanings and other scraps. He was fat +and friendly when at last the boys headed for Seward and Matanuska +Valley. At Seward they left him in the care of a friend until they could +come in a small truck and cart him home. + +At the cabin in the valley Johnny and Lawrence were given an uproarious +welcome. + +One thing surprised them--the Professor was back. "I am waiting for +Bill," he explained. + +"Bill! Who's he?" Lawrence asked. "Oh!" he exclaimed. "He's the man who +built the shelter and left a note saying he was coming back. Let me +see--" + +"Today," said the Professor. "And here he is now." A smiling young giant +with a full red beard came tramping down the road. + +"Bill, did you get one?" the Professor demanded. + +"No," Bill's smile faded. "I did my best. I got the head and hide of one, +that's all. Had to kill him, or lose him. I--I'm sorry." + +"A whole year," the Professor groaned. "And never a bear." + +"A bear!" Johnny exclaimed. "Surely there are bears a-plenty." + +"Not that kind," the Professor corrected. "I want the kind we talked +about once, a glacier bear. Nothing else counts." + +"Oh, a glacier bear!" Lawrence laughed happily. "Is that all you want? I +have one coming up on a truck from Seward. It should be here any time." + +"Just like that!" Bill dropped weakly down upon a stump. "A whole year. +Ice, snow, blizzards, glaciers, hunger, a whole year. Never a bear. And +now this boy calmly says, 'I've got one coming up.'" + +"Such," said the professor, "is the luck of the chase." + +There was time for Bill to satisfy his craving for a "real feed." Then +the truck arrived. + +The Professor and Bill gave one look at the little blue glacier bear. +Then, for sheer joy, they fell into each other's arms. + +"What do you want for him?" the Professor demanded at last. + +"A tractor," said Lawrence. + +"The best in the settlement!" + +"The Titan." + +"Agreed and for good measure, a gang plow, a harrow, two drums of gas and +three log chains." + +Lawrence could not say a word. He could only stand and stare. All his +dreams had come true in a moment. + +"I only wish we might do better," the Professor half apologized. "But +we've spent a great deal of money in the search. So-o, I--" + +"I think," said Lawrence, "that you're a very good sport. And--and we +thank you." + +Three days later Johnny and Lawrence were in Seward for a day with +Blackie when a trim power boat glided up to the dock. + +"Hello, Johnny!" came in a girl's voice. It was Rusty. + +"Come on down to Seattle with us," Red McGee boomed. + +"We'll show you a roarin' good time, just to celebrate the finest salmon +season ever known." + +"What do you say?" Johnny turned to Lawrence. + +"You go," said Lawrence. "I'm a farmer now. I've got to stay with my +crops, and I'm anxious to get started with the new tractor." + +Johnny went. If there were further adventures awaiting him at the end of +that short journey you may find them recorded in a book called, _Sign of +the Green Arrow_. + + + + + Transcriber's Notes + + +--Copyright notice provided as in the original printed text--this e-text + is public domain in the country of publication. + +--Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and + dialect unchanged. + +--In the text versions, delimited italics text in _underscores_ (the HTML + version reproduces the font form of the printed book.) + +--Marked with ellipses the end of page 129, where the printed edition + apparently dropped a page or two from the manuscript. + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Shadow Passes, by Roy J. 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