With a roar, the beast sprang forward.

“Gee whiz, but that was a hot one!” exclaimed Fred Martin, as he wrung his hands after throwing back the ball with which he and his chum, Bobby Blake, were having a little pitching practice on the Rockledge School campus.

“Had pepper on it, did it?” laughed Bobby, as he gripped the ball in readiness for another throw.

“It fairly smoked,” commented Sparrow Bangs, who was stretched lazily on the ground near by. “Bobby, you’ve got speed to burn this season.”

“If he pitches that way against Belden it will be all over except the shouting,” remarked Mouser Pryde, who was the second baseman of the Rockledge team.

“Bobby’ll need all he’s got when we tackle those fellows, if what I hear is true,” put in Billy Bassett. “A fellow was telling me the other day that they have a couple of new batters on their team who can fairly kill the ball, while the rest are pretty handy with the stick.”

“I’ll back Bobby against the bunch,” said Howell Purdy loyally. “He’s beaten them before and he can beat them again.”

“Don’t be too sure,” laughed Bobby. “There’s nothing certain in baseball, and they’re a pretty husky bunch to stack up against. Whenever we’ve beaten them we’ve known at least that we’ve been in a fight.”

“We sure have,” agreed Perry Wise, a fat boy who had been nicknamed “Pee Wee” in sarcastic reference to his size.

“We,” repeated Jimmy Ailshine, in derision. “Where do you get that ‘we’ stuff? You never caught a ball or hit one in your life.”

“Haven’t I always rooted for the team to beat the band?” asked Pee Wee, in an injured tone. “What would the nine do without somebody to root for it when the pinch comes? As a rooter, I’m a wonder.”

“Sure,” said Mouser soothingly. “And Shiner is wrong when he says you never caught a ball. I saw you catch one last winter—a snowball, right on the end of your nose.”

The boys laughed and Pee Wee glared.

“You fellows stop picking on Pee Wee,” said Billy Bassett. “With all your kidding, there are some things in which he’s away ahead of you boobs.”

“Name them,” demanded Fred.

“For instance,” remarked Sparrow incredulously.

“Well,” replied Billy, “he’s more polite than any of you, for one thing.”

Pee Wee began to look interested, though a little puzzled. Although his manners were fairly good, as boys go, he had never thought that politeness was one of his outstanding virtues, nor had any one else called this fact to his attention.

“How do you make that out?” asked Howell Purdy.

“Prove it,” challenged Mouser.

“All right,” responded Billy. “Here’s the proof. When any of you are seated in a crowded car where there are ladies standing, what do you do?”

“Stand up and let a lady sit down,” replied Mouser, while the rest nodded approval.

“Exactly,” replied Billy. “You stand up and let a lady sit down. And that’s where Pee Wee has it all over you in politeness. He stands up and lets three ladies sit down.”

There was a moment of silence while this sank in, and then the boys broke into a roar of laughter, while Pee Wee looked around for something to throw at his tormentor, who adroitly skipped behind a tree.

Just at this moment, Mr. Carrier, one of the teachers, came along. He greeted the boys pleasantly and they responded heartily, for he was a prime favorite with all of them. The athletic games of the school came under his special supervision, and he had the gift of imparting his own vim and enthusiasm to the players. He had been a star himself both in football and baseball in his college days, and his thorough knowledge of both great games made him a first-class coach for the Rockledge boys. Under his tutelage, winning teams had been turned out in the previous year, and he was eager that his teams should repeat their triumph this season.

“Practicing up, I see,” he said, with a smile, as he nodded to Bobby.

“Just enough to keep my arm limber,” Bobby replied. “I want to be in shape for our next big game.”

“And that comes off in less than two weeks now,” rejoined Mr. Carrier. “I hear that the Belden nine is going great guns in practice and that the victory they won over Somerset the other day has given them confidence. They figure, too, that since we’ve had the championship for some years the time is just about due for them to have their turn. But we don’t agree with them, do we?” he added, with a twinkle in his eyes.

“No, sir!” agreed Bobby. “They’re not going to carry off the Monatook League pennant if we can help it.”

“It does look pretty good on the Rockledge grounds, doesn’t it?” remarked Mr. Carrier, as he cast his eyes up on the flagstaff where the beautiful banner fluttered in the breeze. “I’m depending on you boys to keep it there. Don’t forget the practice game to-morrow between the first and second nines.”

He passed on, and the boys looked after him with respect and admiration.

“He’s a dandy,” commented Sparrow.

“I’ll tell the world he is,” affirmed Mouser. “He’s more like a pal than a teacher, though he’s a mighty good teacher, at that.”

“Oh, I say, fellows,” called out Billy, slipping out from behind his tree, though still keeping a wary eye on Pee Wee, “there was a man downtown this morning putting up posters for a big circus that’s coming over to Ridgefield in a week or two. From what it said on the posters, it’s going to be a humdinger.”

“Trying to get us on a string again?” asked Sparrow suspiciously.

“No, honest I ain’t,” asseverated Billy, forgetting his grammar in his eagerness. “This is straight goods. It’s going to be in Ridgefield a week from next Friday. Gee, how I’d like to go!”

“Who wouldn’t?” remarked Fred. “But what good does it do us to have it in Ridgefield? That’s twenty miles away, and you know the doctor won’t let us go.”

“Maybe it’ll come to Rockledge, too,” put in Howell hopefully.

“No chance,” declared Billy. “I asked the man who was putting up the posters, and he said that this town wasn’t on the list.”

“That’s too bad,” said Bobby regretfully. “I haven’t been to a circus for a long time and I sure would like to see it.”

“Like’s no name for it,” chimed in Shiner. “I’m just crazy to see it. Just think, fellows, the tightrope walkers and the bareback riders, the acrobats turning somersaults over the elephants, the fellows swinging on the trapeze and the horizontal bars—”

“And the clowns,” added Billy, as Shiner paused for breath.

“Billy likes the clowns because he can steal all their old chestnuts and pass them off on us,” was Pee Wee’s vengeful dig.

“But there’s something new in this,” went on Billy, not deigning to notice Pee Wee’s fling. “They show a real Eskimo band, headed by a chief named Takyak who has a trained walrus that can do all kinds of stunts. I never saw anything like that in any circus I’ve ever been to.”

“What’s a walrus?” asked Shiner, who was not very strong on the subject of natural history. “Something like a shark?”

“No, you silly,” returned Billy, who, fresh from his study of the posters, had the advantage over his mates. “It looks something like a seal, only it’s bigger and fatter—oh, it’s as fat as Pee Wee—” Here the latter gave an indignant snort—“and it’s got big tusks and as much whiskers as those fellows over in Russia—you know the ones I mean, those Bolsheviks—and it’s sure the kind of thing I wouldn’t like to meet up an alley on a dark night, and they say it can do anything but talk, and the Eskimos had a big fight when they captured it, but now they’ve got it so tame that it eats out of their hands, and it lives on fish, and it’s got a bellow that you can hear for a mile and—”

“For the love of Pete, somebody stop him,” cried Fred. “He’s getting black in the face. You’d think he was a barker for the circus.”

But Billy was not to be stopped altogether, though the current of his eloquence was changed by a thought that had come to him while he was talking.

“Say, fellows!” he exclaimed eagerly, “what I said about the Russians reminded me of a joke!”

“What have we done that we should be punished like this!” moaned Shiner.

“Men have been killed for less crimes than Billy’s,” asserted Mouser.

“But this is a good one,” Billy declared. “It made me laugh when I heard it, and I know a good joke when I hear one.”

“I don’t believe it,” said Sparrow. “If you’ve ever heard a good one you’ve never passed it on to us.”

“Billy’s jokes are so poor that they wear rags,” proclaimed Howell.

“Or so old that they’ve got false teeth,” added Fred.

But Billy, undaunted by the general chorus, persisted.

“I’ve got a dime in my pocket,” he began.

“I’ll bet it’s plugged,” put in Pee Wee.

“I have a dime in my pocket,” repeated Billy with dignity, “and I’ll give it to the fellow that can guess my joke before I can count twenty. That shows how good I think it is.”

As Billy had calculated, this secured the instant attention of the boys, for it was nearing the end of the term, pocket money was running low, and a dime—well, a dime was a dime.

“Let’s see it,” said Sparrow cautiously.

Billy promptly produced it.

“There it is,” he said. “Take a good look at it, for that’s the nearest any of you will ever get to it. You couldn’t guess this joke in twenty years let alone twenty seconds.”

“All right,” said Fred impatiently. “Go ahead! Shoot!”

Billy leaned forward impressively.

“What’s the quickest change of nationality on record?” he asked.

Shiner scratched his head in perplexity.

“Come again,” he said. “I don’t get you.”

Billy looked at him in patronizing scorn.

“Why, you poor fish,” he explained, “a change of nationality is when a man stops being a citizen of one country and becomes a citizen of another. It’s as if a Frenchman went to England and took the oath of allegiance to the English king. Instead of being any longer a Frenchman he’d then be an English subject. Or a Swede might come to this country and be naturalized here. He’d no longer be a Swede but an American. In other words, he’d have changed his nationality.”

“Cut it short, Billy,” interrupted Fred. “I want that dime.”

“You won’t get it,” retorted Billy. “Now I’ll put it to you again. To change a man’s nationality usually takes considerable time. What’s the shortest time it’s ever been done in? Now I’ll start to count. One—two—three——”

“I know,” shouted Pee Wee.

Billy, in some alarm, hurried on with his counting.

“Four, five, six, seven,” he rushed along.

“It’s this way,” sputtered Pee Wee, also in a hurry. “It was a man climbing a greased pole. He went up a Pole and he came down a rushin’.”

Billy, who despite his frantic haste had been able to get up only to seventeen in the count, turned scarlet.

“That’s right,” he admitted reluctantly. “How did you guess it?”

“Oh, I heard that ages ago,” returned Pee Wee airily. “That joke was old when Noah went into the Ark. He used to tell it to Ham and Shem and Japhet when he wanted to put them to sleep.”

Billy was crestfallen, but he was game and brought out the dime, which Pee Wee promptly stowed away in his pocket.

“Gee,” murmured Shiner, “I don’t see why climbing a pole and coming down in a hurry makes a man change his nationality.”

At this a roar of laughter went up. Finally it was Pee Wee, elated with his victory, who explained.

“You silly,” he said, “the man went up a Pole—you know what a Pole is—and came down a capital R-u-s-s-i-a-n, Russian. Now do you see?”

“Oh,” answered Shiner, crestfallen.

“Got any more jokes, Billy?” Pee Wee asked politely. “If you have, bring them out and I’ll guess them at the same price.”

Billy tried to think of a suitable retort, but the financial calamity that had come upon him had paralyzed, for the moment, his gift of repartee.

“Never mind, Billy,” laughed Bobby, clapping him on the shoulder. “You can’t always put it over. And, anyway, Pee Wee’s going to spend that dime to treat the bunch and you’ll have your share of the doughnuts.”

“Sure thing,” said Pee Wee generously. “I can get ten doughnuts for a dime, and I can’t eat more than eight of them. The other two you fellows can divide up among yourselves.”

“Don’t give things away so recklessly, or I can see where you’ll be going to the poorhouse in your old age,” chaffed Fred.

“He’ll never live to be old,” put in Shiner. “He’ll die early from enlargement of the heart.”

“Maybe he’ll strain a point and give us three,” suggested Mouser hopefully. “But, anyway, let’s go down to the store and get them now while Pee Wee still has the dime.”

“It’s a pretty long walk,” objected Pee Wee. “And what with that stone bruise on my foot and the way I’ve been working—”

“That’s right!” observed Sparrow. “We forgot all about that stone bruise. It isn’t fair to make poor Pee Wee go all that way. He can give us the dime and we’ll go down and get the doughnuts and bring him back his share.”

This appealed to all but Pee Wee, who had well-grounded fears that they would bring back his share inside of them.

“I guess I can make it,” he said, getting heavily to his feet. “But let’s take our time. There’s no use going at it as if we were running a Marathon.”

He led the way with the air of a monarch followed by his retainers, and not one of them stayed behind, for the lure of the doughnut was too strong to be resisted.

“Let’s take the short cut down the school lane,” suggested Fred, and as this met with general approval they turned off into a lane that led down past the private orchard of Dr. Raymond, the head of the school.

They had not gone more than a hundred yards when Bobby gave an exclamation.

“Look at that big touring car at the side of the road,” he ejaculated, indicating a powerful looking automobile that was standing under the shadow of some trees close to the fence that skirted the orchard.

“What’s it doing there, I wonder,” remarked Fred. “This isn’t a public road, and I never before saw an automobile in it, except the doctor’s own car.”

“Maybe it belongs to some friends who have come to call upon him,” hazarded Shiner.

“Or somebody who switched off into the lane by mistake,” guessed Sparrow.

As the chums drew nearer they could see that the car was empty with the exception of the driver. He was a rough-looking fellow with a coarse, mottled face, shifty eyes and generally uncouth appearance. His cap was drawn down over his low forehead and a half-smoked cigarette dangled loosely from his lips.

“Looks like a tough customer, doesn’t he?” murmured Fred, in a low voice to Mouser, who was next to him.

“He sure does,” returned the latter. “No friends of the doctor would have a fellow like that to drive for them.”

Bobby had given one quick glance at the driver and then his eyes roved over to the orchard. What he saw gave him a start.

“Look, fellows!” he cried. “Those fellows are robbing the doctor’s orchard! And they’ve tackled that prize thousand-dollar tree with the early apples!”

He made a rush for the fence with his comrades close behind him.

The fellow in the driver’s seat of the big automobile dropped his cigarette and half started from his seat as he heard Bobby’s words and saw him making for the fence.

“Hey, youse!” he shouted, “what are youse buttin’ in for? Keep out of this. Get right along an’ mind your own business.”

“Nobody asked for your advice,” shouted Bobby, as he scaled the fence and dropped on the other side. “Come along, fellows, and come quick.”

At a little distance from the fence stood a tree that the doctor, who was an enthusiast on fruit growing, prized above all his other possessions. It bore an exceedingly rare species of apple that matured early in the season, had a delicious flavor and was highly valued by experts. It was a new variety, and it was understood that the doctor had paid as much as a thousand dollars for it with a view to developing in time a whole orchard of the same species. The boys had often heard him talk about it, and they knew how much he valued it. One of Billy’s stock jokes was to refer to it as the “apple of his eye.”

Beneath this special tree were standing four youths of the same type as the one in the car, while in the tree itself was another. The apples were still green, of course, but this did not deter the marauders.

They were considerably larger and older than the Rockledge boys, but the latter were so full of indignation as they ran toward them that they took little account of size or age.

“What are you fellows doing?” cried Bobby, as he came within earshot of the intruders. “Leave those apples alone.”

The strangers looked up in some surprise at the interruption and then conferred together hastily.

“What have you got to say about it?” blurted out the one who seemed to be the leader of the party. “They ain’t your apples, are they?”

“No, but they belong to the head of our school,” replied Bobby. “And he’d have you arrested for stealing them if he knew about it.”

“Well, what he don’t know ain’t a-goin’ to hurt him,” sneered the fellow. “An’ if they ain’t your apples you ain’t got no license to interfere. You git along now an’ beat it while the goin’s good.”

“Give him a clip in the jaw, Hen, an’ take some of the freshness out of him,” growled one of the fruit thieves.

“You can’t bluff us with any of that kind of talk,” declared Bobby stoutly. “I’ve got the number of that car, and you fellows will be tracked down and arrested if you don’t get away from here quick.”

An ugly look came into the bully’s eyes as he clenched his fist.

And while, with his heart beating fast but his courage unshaken, Bobby waited for the expected rush, it may be well, for the benefit of those who have not read the earlier volumes of this series, to tell who Bobby and his chums are.

Bobby Blake was now about thirteen years old, and had been born in a little town called Clinton. He was the only child of a business man of that place, whose affairs frequently called him away from home.

Mr. and Mrs. Blake had gone to South America on a protracted trip a few years before our present story opens, and had been fortunate in finding an excellent private school for Bobby near home, in the Rockledge School. His first year there and adventures are related in “Bobby Blake at Rockledge School.”

His special friend was Fred Martin, the son of a merchant of Clinton. Fred had received the nickname of “Ginger” because of his fiery red hair. It is also a fact that Fred had the hot temper that is popularly supposed to go with hair of that color. It did not take much to get him angry. Still he was generous and straight as a string, and he and Bobby got on famously together. Bobby often had his hands full in getting Fred out of the scrapes into which the red-headed boy’s quick temper led him, and sometimes he did not succeed. But the boys formed a perfect team, and where one was the other was quite sure not to be far away.

They made some good friends at the school and when vacation came they were invited to visit one of them, Perry Wise, the fat boy called “Pee Wee,” at the home of his parents on the coast. Here the boys had a great time fishing, boating, and swimming and found themselves with an exciting adventure on their hands in hunting for a missing boat. These and other adventures of the school chums are related in other volumes of the “Bobby Blake Series.”

And now to return to Bobby where he stood tense and undaunted, awaiting the onslaught of the bully whom he had discovered with his gang robbing Dr. Raymond’s orchard.

“So you got the number of the car, did you?” snarled the leader of the gang, Hen Lemming. “Well, now let me tell you, bo, that I’ve got your number too, and it’s number twenty-three. Do you get me? Twenty-three. That’s a mighty unlucky number, too, as you’ll find out, for I’m going to change the map of that face of yours for buttin’ in.”

As he spoke he made a rush at Bobby with his fist upraised.

Quick as a flash, Bobby grabbed for his legs, as he had often done when tackling an opponent on a football field. It was a perfect tackle, and the bully went down with a crash, so hard, indeed, that he lay sprawling on the ground, stunned for the moment.

In an instant Bobby was on his feet again. “One of you hold that fellow down!” he cried, assuming command of the situation. “Here, Pee Wee, you sit on him.”

Pee Wee instantly obeyed, and his ponderous weight settled on Lemming’s back, keeping him flat to the ground despite the desperate attempts of the reviving bully to throw him off.

“Now,” said Bobby, facing the rest of the intruders, who had stood for a moment paralyzed by the sudden downfall of their leader, “who’s the next one that wants to start something?”

They faced him, growling and storming, but irresolute. The fellow in the tree had now dropped down and joined his companions.

“We’re going to smash you for this,” he threatened, as he rolled up his sleeves.

Fred and the rest of the boys had gathered about Bobby ready to pitch in if need be, and the hostile groups faced each other frowningly. Fred suddenly set up a loud whistle, the well-known Rockledge call for aid.

“Look out, Bobby!” suddenly cried Pee Wee.

Bobby wheeled at the cry and saw the driver of the car, who had climbed the fence and was running to the help of his companions, holding a large stone in his hand.

He was not more than ten yards away and he raised the stone to hurl it at Bobby’s head.

But Bobby was too quick for him. In his pocket was the baseball with which he and Fred had been practicing. Like lightning he drew it out and threw it at the driver with all his strength.

The ball caught the fellow right below the breastbone and he doubled up like a jackknife. The stone dropped from his hand, and he sat down suddenly on the grass, trying to recover the breath that had been knocked out of him.

“Get the ball, Fred,” commanded Bobby, and like a flash Fred retrieved it and put it in Bobby’s hand. Then Fred gave another loud whistle for aid.

“Now,” said Bobby, as he whirled about and faced the group of enemies, who were fairly gasping with astonishment, “that takes care of two of you fellows. Want any more of our game?”

It was very evident that they did not. What they had seen of Bobby’s quickness and resource had been quite enough. And that baseball at such close quarters looked like a mighty powerful weapon. Besides, they could hear the shouts of other schoolboys not far away. All the easy victory the gang had promised itself over these younger and slighter opponents vanished like smoke.

There was no answer except mutterings and growls, and the fellow who had dropped from the tree slowly put on his coat.

“You boys have got the edge on us just now,” he snarled. “But don’t think for a minute that you’re through with us. We’ll get you some time, and what we’ll do to you will be a-plenty. Ain’t that so, Lemming?” he asked of the fellow who had been sat upon.

“We’ll take a chance on you,” replied Bobby heatedly.

The toughs started to go away from the tree, but one of them picked up the bag of apples they had gathered to take along.

“No, you don’t!” exclaimed Bobby. “Drop that.”

The fellow glared at him, but evidently thought it best to obey.

“Ain’t you going to let him up?” asked one of them, pointing to his prostrate leader. “Going to keep him there all night?”

“He’ll get up when you get on the other side of that fence,” replied Bobby.

They picked up the driver on the way and Bobby waited until they had all climbed into the car.

“Now, Pee Wee,” he said, “let that fellow up.”

Pee Wee, much gratified at the prominent part his weight had permitted him to take in the contest, got off his prostrate victim and Lemming struggled to his feet, his face livid and his whole body shaking with rage at his humiliation and defeat. For a moment it seemed as if he would rush at Bobby like a mad bull, but a glance at the faces of the boys and at the baseball that Bobby held ready for action convinced him for the present that discretion was the better part of valor.

“You ain’t heard the last of this,” he snapped. “I’ll get even with you. And when I once get hold of you away from your gang I’ll make you wish you had never been born.”

“Your pals are waiting for you,” was all the response that Bobby vouchsafed, while he watched his enemy with the eye of a hawk.

With muttered imprecations, Lemming slouched sullenly away and climbed the fence. Before he got into the car he turned and shook his fist vengefully and shouted out a torrent of threats. But Bobby simply laughed, and with a honking of the horn that was in itself a promise of vengeance the car started up and rolled away.

They watched it until it had passed from sight and then turned and looked at each other. Other boys now came running up, having heard Fred’s whistle for help.

“Bobby, you’re a trump,” cried Fred, in admiration as he clapped his friend on the shoulder.

All crowded round their leader and showered him with praise until Bobby blushed to the ears.

“Lay off, you fellows,” he cried in some confusion. “The chance simply came my way and I took it. It simply shows that football and baseball tactics are good for something besides games.”

“I thought sure it was coming to a regular fist fight and I was bracing myself for it,” put in Skeets. “But, thanks to Bobby, none of us got a scratch.”

“They’d have had a good chance of getting away with it, too,” affirmed Billy. “They were big husky fellows, almost men, and they’d probably have been too heavy for our bunch. It simply shows that brains and muscle combined are a good sight better than muscle alone.”

“Weight isn’t such a bad thing either,” remarked Pee Wee.

“Right you are, old boy,” laughed Fred. “It would have taken three of us to hold that fellow down as well as you did. You sure did yourself proud.”

“I’d hate to be the driver of that car,” grinned Skeets. “You doubled him up good and plenty, Bobby. He went down as though he had been shot.”

“One strike and out,” laughed Fred. “Bobby’s eyesight was good. He put the ball right over the plate.”

There was more excited talk, then one of the boys who had come running to help their comrades but who had arrived too late said to those who had come with him:

“Well, come on, fellows. Let’s go about our business. This bunch is all right now.” With these words he turned and went off, his especial friends going with him.

“You’ve got to look out for those fellows, especially for that Lemming, Bobby,” warned Mouser. “Those eyes of his were like a rattlesnake’s when he got up from the ground. You humbled him before his gang and made him look like thirty cents, and he isn’t likely to forget it.”

“Oh, I’m not worrying much about him,” returned Bobby carelessly. “He probably got enough to last him for a while. Then, too, he knows that we have the number of his car and could get the police after him if we wanted to.”

“I don’t know but what we ought to do that anyway,” suggested Shiner. “It’s a tough gang and perhaps it’s already done something that the police are interested in finding out about.”

“I guess we’d better let well enough alone,” replied Bobby. “Besides, I doubt whether the doctor would care to have the school mixed up in the matter. But now let’s get along after those doughnuts of Pee Wee. If we wait till to-morrow he’ll have spent the money, and this scrap has given me an appetite.”

“What are we going to do with these apples?” asked Fred. “There’s quite a bunch of them in this bag.”

“We’ll drop in at the Hall and leave them with the housekeeper,” Bobby decided.

“Don’t you think the doctor himself ought to be told about these fellows so that he can keep a closer watch on the orchard?” asked Skeets.

“I suppose he ought,” agreed Bobby. “But I hate to speak to him about it for fear he’ll think we’re looking for praise for getting rid of the rascals. But come along anyway, and we’ll get these apples off our hands.”

As luck would have it, their modesty was not to be spared, for as they went through the front door of the school the first person they encountered was Dr. Raymond himself, who was emerging from one of the classrooms.

The doctor was a tall spare man with an intellectual, finely cut face and a pair of eyes that could look right through one if he were guilty of any violation of rules but that more frequently had a twinkle in them that bespoke a kindly nature and the possession of a sense of humor. He was a strict disciplinarian and an excellent administrator, and had raised the school to a position of such high repute that he had been forced to establish a waiting list. Although the boys knew that he was not to be trifled with, they liked him because he was uniformly just and fair in his dealings with them.

He glanced at them with an expression of some surprise as he noted the bag of apples that Fred carried in his hand.

“They’re apples from your thousand-dollar tree,” volunteered Fred, forestalling the question that he saw in the doctor’s eyes.

“What!” exclaimed Dr. Raymond with a start, as a look of sternness began to steal over his features.

For that tree was his special pride, and he valued it almost as much as the rest of his orchard put together.

“We weren’t the ones that picked the apples,” broke in Mouser. “We found a gang of thieves down there helping themselves and we drove them off. Bobby did the most of it, though. He sure can think quickly.”

“Come in here and tell me all about it,” directed the doctor, leading the way into the room from which he had just come.

“Now, Blake,” he said after they were seated, “from what Pryde said, I fancy you are the one to tell me the story.”

Bobby fidgeted a little uncomfortably. It was hard to tell the facts without dwelling on the part he had played in it, and he hated to find himself in the limelight.

“Why, Doctor Raymond,” he said, “there isn’t much to tell. We were walking down the lane when we saw an auto drawn up at the side of the road and then we saw five fellows gathering apples from that tree. We knew how much you thought of it, so we went into the orchard and made them go away.”

“Were they boys about your own size?” asked the doctor. “Anybody you know about here or in the town?”

“No, sir,” replied Bobby. “They were big fellows, almost men. None of us ever saw them before. They had a big car and they probably came from a distance.”

“How did you get them to stop?” asked the doctor, with some interest. “Persuade them?”

“Well, no, sir,” answered Bobby slowly. “You couldn’t exactly say that we persuaded them. We—we had to use a little force.”

The doctor’s keen eyes twinkled.

“This grows interesting,” he remarked. “I am really curious to know what kind of force you boys used to drive away nearly half a dozen robbers who were almost the size of men.”

“If you please, doctor,” ventured Fred, who had been growing restive at what he regarded as the undue modesty of his chum, “any of the other boys can tell you about it better than Bobby, because he’s the one that about did the whole thing and he doesn’t like to say so.”

Bobby blushed and the doctor laughed.

“I suspected as much,” he said. “Well, then, Martin, suppose you go ahead and tell me all the facts.”

“Well, sir,” replied Fred, “we saw the fellows robbing the tree and we climbed over the fence and went over to them and Bobby told them to stop. The man who seemed to be the leader made a rush, and Bobby dived for his legs and tumbled him to the ground. Then Bobby told Pee Wee—I mean Wise—to sit on him and hold him down and Pee Wee—I mean Wise—did it. Then the man who had been driving the auto came for Bobby with a rock in his hand, and Bobby took the baseball we’d been practicing with out of his pocket and let him have it right in the bread basket—I mean in the stomach—and the man went down. Then Bobby got back the ball and told the other four to beat it—I mean told them to go away—or he’d soak—I mean hit—them in the same way. They saw that their goose was cooked—I mean they saw it was no use—and they flew the coop—I mean they went away. But they shook their fists and told Bobby a whole lot of things they were going to do to him if they ever got hold of him.”

The doctor sat back in his chair and laughed heartily.

“Well, well,” he remarked, while Bobby got red to his ears, “that’s the best story I’ve heard for many a long day. And it seems to have Bobby scattered all through it.”

“I guess those toughs heard some of the other fellows coming to our help, doctor,” interposed Bobby. “They did come, you know, but they got there too late—the fruit thieves had gone away by that time.”

“But really, Blake, even at that, you did wonderfully well, both in quick thinking and effective acting,” replied Dr. Raymond. “You are an honor to the school and I’m proud of you. And I want to thank all you boys, for I know that you were standing loyally by, ready to back Blake up if the necessity arose. But I’m glad that the matter was settled the way it was, for otherwise some of you might have been injured in a row with those who were so much bigger and older than yourselves. For the future I will keep a closer watch upon the orchard, though I don’t imagine,” he added with a smile, “that that particular gang will be eager to try again at the same place where they met with such a reception.”

“Bobby took the number of their car so that you could follow the matter up if you wanted to,” said Fred.

“Still, Bobby,” smiled the doctor, “trust him not to overlook anything. But I hardly think that I care to press the matter any further. I guess the rascals have been punished enough. Still, I’ll note down the number just as a matter of precaution in case they should try to carry out their threats of getting even. That’s hardly likely, but it’s possible. By the way, Blake, I’d be especially careful for a while, and if you see any of the gang hanging around be sure and let me know.”

He jotted down the license number and then, with repeated thanks, dismissed the boys, while he himself sought out Mr. Leith and Mr. Carrier, to whom with many chuckles he narrated the events of the afternoon. Even the stately Mr. Leith unbent, while Mr. Carrier was frankly delighted.

Martin was at that very moment chiding Bobby for having hung back and left it to his friends to tell of his exploits.

“Why didn’t you speak up for yourself, Bobby?” he asked, “instead of leaving it to me to give the doctor an earful—there I go again—instead of leaving it to me to tell the doctor all about it. Any one would think that you were ashamed instead of being proud of what you’ve done.”

“Oh, it wasn’t so much,” deprecated Bobby. “Just a tackle and a baseball throw. Any one could have done it.”

“Great Scott!” snorted Shiner, as he glanced at his watch. “It’s too late now for us to get down to the baker’s for those doughnuts and get back in time for supper.”

There was a chorus of groans from all but Pee Wee, who looked somewhat relieved.

“We’ll have to put it off till some other time,” he remarked. “That stone bruise of mine is hurting me anyway, and then, too, I’ve been working pretty hard this afternoon. Holding that bully down was no cinch.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Skeets unbelievingly. “All you had to do was to sit still, and that’s the easiest thing you do. He couldn’t move any more than if he’d had one of the Pyramids resting on him.”

Pee Wee treated this slighting reference to his really great achievements with the silent scorn it deserved.

“Oh, well,” observed Sparrow, “the doughnuts will keep till some other time.”

“But when that time comes will Pee Wee have the dime?” questioned Shiner incredulously.

“I will,” pledged Pee Wee. And then rising to unusual heights he added: “I promised you fellows two doughnuts to divide among you. I’ll double that. I’ll make it four.”

The last weeks previous to the beginning of the summer vacation were busy ones for the boys. They had to prepare for final examinations, and for those who had shirked their work through the term this was a period of grief and lamentation.

Bobby and Fred had done good work in their studies right along, and the coming tests had no terrors for them.

But there was another interest that held the attention of the boys to a degree greater, it is to be feared, than their studies.

The baseball fight that season between the teams composing the Monatook Lake League had been fiercer than ever before. All of the teams were comparatively strong, considering the age of the players, and the contests had been close and exciting. But in the end it had narrowed down to a contest between Rockledge and Belden, each of which had won and lost the same number of games. The crucial game was to be played by these two hot rivals on the Belden grounds, and feeling was at fever heat in each school.

While in fielding ability there was very little to choose between them, it was generally admitted that Belden had the “edge” on Rockledge in the matter of batting. This had been shown by the scores of the games that had already been played. The Belden tallies were much in excess of those rolled up by the Rockledge boys, and the former had a formidable list of three-baggers and homers. The Rockledge victories on the other hand were marked by small scores, and had mostly been won by the good pitching of Bobby in the box.

So the forthcoming contest had resolved itself in the minds of the boys into a struggle between heavy batting and good pitching. Which of the two would prevail?

The Belden boys thought that they could give the answer. They had never before felt so confident, and they were jubilant at the fine showing made by their team with the bat. It was freely predicted that Bobby would be sent to the bench before the game was half over. And with him out of the game, the Belden boys felt that they could simply romp in, for Howell Purdy, the other Rockledge pitcher, while fairly good, was admittedly not in the same class as Bobby.

But on the other hand, the Rockledge boys had seen Bobby too often “come through” to feel depressed at the prospect. They knew that he would have to face a fiercer attack than usual.

“But,” said Fred, “we are sure that before long Bobby will have those redoubtable sluggers eating out of his hand. The bigger they are the harder they fall.” And this fairly expressed the feeling prevalent among his mates.

Bobby himself said little, but worked away like a beaver to perfect his curves and slants and develop his speed. He had never felt in better trim, and in his secret heart had little doubt that he would pull out the victory. But he refrained from predictions, and to the questions that were showered upon him by his comrades merely replied that he was going to do his best.

The great day came at last and was marked by brilliant sunshine. This was a slight disadvantage for Bobby, because a cloudy day is reckoned as an asset to a pitcher, as it makes it harder for the batsman to gauge the ball. Of course this affected the Belden pitcher, too, but not to such an extent, as the Belden boys were not placing as much reliance on the pitching as Rockledge was forced to do.

The fact, too, that the game was to be played on the Belden grounds was, of course, an advantage to that school. The grounds themselves were more familiar to their nine, and they would have the greater number of rooters to cheer on the home team and rattle their opponents.

Still it was all in the game, and the Rockledge boys were in high spirits as they cavorted around the diamond in practice.

The stands were full of interested spectators and there was a great wall of “fans” surrounding the playing field. The Rockledge boys had come over in a body to encourage their team. Dr. Raymond himself had a foremost seat in the grandstand as a guest of the head of Belden school. The two men were the best of friends and laughed and chaffed each other on the merits of the respective teams.

Both nines showed up well in practice, making stops and throws and catches which showed that each team was at the top of its form. It was evident that the game was to be a hotly contested one, and when the bell rang the spectators settled down in their seats with the anticipation of a treat.

Rockledge, as the visiting team, was first at bat. The first man up went out on strikes and a chorus of cheers arose from the partisans of Belden. Fred, who came next, whipped a sharp liner to left. If it had been smartly fielded, it would have gone for a single, but the left fielder fumbled it for a moment and Fred by great running reached second. Then it was the turn of Rockledge to cheer. The hit availed nothing, however, for Barry went out on a pop fly to the pitcher and Sparrow sent a towering fly to right which was gathered in after a long run. The inning had ended without a score, and Belden came in for its half.

That proved short and sweet. Bobby whiffed the first batter that faced him on three successive strikes. The second man dribbled an easy one to the box that Bobby had no trouble in getting to first in plenty of time. The next batsman fouled off two in succession, and then Bobby struck him out with a fast high one that cut the center of the plate. No one had got to first, and the Rockledge rooters cheered Bobby lustily as he came in to the bench.

They felt still better when Mouser caught the ball on the end of his bat for a ripping three-bagger to center. The cheers turned to groans, however, when Mouser took a chance and tried to steal home. It was a rash play at that stage of the game, for no one was out, and even a sacrifice would probably have brought him home. As it was, the ball was waiting for him when he slid into the plate and he looked rather sheepish as he rose and brushed the dust from his uniform. Sheets laid down a clever bunt, on which by good running he reached first. Shiner followed with a daisy cutter between first and second that carried Sheets to third, though Shiner himself could get no further than the initial bag. The inning ended when Billy Bassett hit into a double play.

“That was an awful bonehead play of mine,” said Mouser regretfully, as he and Bobby walked out from the bench to take their places in the field.

“Don’t let it worry you, Mouser,” Bobby consoled him. “That was a whale of a three-bagger that you knocked out, anyway. Any one of us is liable to make a mistake.”

The second inning resulted in another blank for Belden. The first one up went out by the strikeout route. The next one proved a little more difficult, for he refused to bite at the balls that Bobby put over until the count stood at three balls and no strikes.

“Wait him out,” shouted Ormsby, the Belden captain. “He’s getting wild.”

The next ball split the plate for a perfect strike, but the batsman, obeying his captain’s command, let it go by. He refused to offer also at the next one, which also went for a strike. The count now stood three-two, and if Bobby was in a hole the batter was also.

Cool as an icicle, Bobby wound up and put all he had on a high fast one that fairly smoked as it went over the plate. The batter made a wild lunge at it but missed, and the ball sank with a thud in the catcher’s glove.

“You’re out,” called the umpire.

“That’s going some, Bobby,” cried Fred from short. “Keep it right up. They can’t hit you.”

This was a little premature, for the next man connected with the first ball pitched and sent it whistling over Bobby’s head. It had all the earmarks of a single, but Mouser redeemed his previous error of judgment by leaping into the air and making a superb catch that brought the crowd in the stands to their feet. The Rockledge rooters were jubilant, while the Beldenites were correspondingly depressed.

The next two innings passed without a score for either side. Both pitchers were doing excellent work, and while the Belden boxman, Erlich, was hit rather freely, the ball seemed to find a fielder in the way every time. Twice the Rockledge boys had men on bases, once by an error and the other time from a passed ball, but were unable to bring them around.

In the fifth inning, Rockledge broke the ice. Skeets led off with a rattling single to right. Shiner sacrificed him neatly to second. Billy sent a hot one between short and third that looked as though it would be good enough to bring Skeets home, but the ball was retrieved so smartly and thrown into home by the Belden left fielder that Skeets, who had rounded third and started on his homeward journey, saw that he could not make it, and had all he could do to scramble back to third. In the meantime Billy had reached second.

With one man out, Bobby came to the bat. The first was too high and he let it go by. The second was waist high and right in the groove, and Bobby swung at it with all his might. There was a sharp crack as the bat met the ball, and then the latter sped out almost in a line between right and center. Bobby dropped his bat and was off like a flash, while Skeets and Billy came galloping home.

As Bobby rounded first, he saw that the right and center fielders were still chasing the ball. By the time he had reached second the right fielder had picked it up and was steadying himself for the throw to third. The chances of the ball and batter getting there at the same time were about even. But two runs were in anyway, and Bobby knew that he could afford to take the chance. He put on extra speed and slid into the bag just a fraction of a second before the third baseman clapped the ball on him.

“Safe!” cried the umpire, and the Rockledge crowd went wild.

Erlich stiffened up then and let the next batsman down on strikes. Spentz, who came next, hit the ball hard, but it was gobbled up by the center fielder, and the inning was over with Bobby left on third.

But at any rate two runs had tallied, and the way the game was going those two runs seemed big enough to win.

The Belden boys came in for their half, fuming at the lead that Rockledge had gained but not a bit discouraged. Ormsby gathered them about him and urged them on, and their rooters broke out into vociferous cheers.

Weston, one of their heaviest batters and the head of their batting order, came to the plate swinging his bat in a menacing way. He glared at Bobby, who only laughed and sent over a fadeaway for the first strike.

The second ball was a hop and Weston caught it on the under side and sent it high in the air out toward center. It should have been an easy catch, for Devlin had plenty of time to get under it before it came down. But it was the very ease of the catch that was his undoing, for he let it go through his fingers.

Weston, like the good ballplayer that he was, had kept on running at full speed, even though he expected the ball to be caught, so that by the time the muff was actually made he had rounded first and was well on his way to second.

Devlin was rattled by his error and threw wild to the second bag. The ball went over Mouser’s head, and by the time it was retrieved Weston was roosting safely on third amid the jubilant yells of the Belden partisans.

Romney, the next one up, laid down what was intended to be a sacrifice bunt between short and third. Fred and Sparrow both went for it with such eagerness that they collided and were knocked head over heels. By the time Bobby had run over and recovered the ball Weston had easily made the plate and Romney had got to second.

These two “flivvers” in succession were likely to rattle any team, and in order to give his mates time to recover their self-possession, Bobby bent down and fumbled with his shoe laces until the umpire ordered him to play ball.

Then Bobby put on steam and fanned the next batter in three straight strikes.

He made the next one knock an easy bounder toward short. Fred was all set to grab it when the ball struck a stone and took a high bound over his head, rolling out to left field, while Romney made the dust fly as he legged his way to third and the batter reached first.

Howell Purdy, the substitute pitcher, who was playing left field, ran in for the ball. He saw that he could not get Romney at third, and threw to Mouser at second to catch the batter, who was making for that bag. But the ball was ten feet wide of the base and went into the field, while both Romney and his mate scored, making the score 3 to 2 in Belden’s favor.

The Belden boys fairly went crazy. There was a din of horn-blowing and catcalls exceeding anything so far in the game. Their coachers got out on the coaching lines and began a line of chatter designed to rattle their opponents still further.

But no matter how the rest of the team were shaken, Bobby absolutely declined to lose his nerve. He knew that until this inning was over at any rate the only thing left for him was to strike his opponents out. Any ball hit, no matter how easily it ought to be fielded, was liable to be fumbled or booted. So he summoned up all his courage and skill and made the next two fan in succession.

Many a pitcher would have been grumpy and sore at such support. He had not yielded a single hit or passed a man to first, and yet his opponents had made three runs and taken the lead. Yet Bobby’s face was as serene as a summer sky when he drew off his glove and went in to the bench.

Devlin and Howell were bitterly angry at themselves because of their errors, and Fred and Sparrow were limping from the effects of their collision, while the rest of the team were more or less upset by the sudden change in affairs.

“Never mind, fellows,” cried Bobby encouragingly. “Those fellows have certainly had the breaks of the game so far. That collision was an accident and we didn’t know that that stone in the infield would give that bad bound to the ball. But those things generally even up, and they may have their turn of bad luck next. Anyway, they’re only one run ahead and we have time to overcome that. Just let’s brace and we’ll beat them yet.”

But if they were to beat them it was not to be done in the sixth or seventh inning, for those chances passed without Rockledge scoring. Once they got a man as far as third, but there he stayed for want of the necessary hit to bring him in.

Belden was equally unable to score. Bobby was pitching like a demon and his opponents were swinging at the air. Four out of the six who faced him in those two innings went out on strikes, while a foul and a pop fly disposed of the others.

In the eighth inning the skies began to brighten for Rockledge. Erlich, who had pitched good ball up to that time, began to weaken. His fast ones no longer had their usual zip to them, nor were his curves so deceptive. Two hits in succession, followed by a base on balls, filled the bases, and then a wild pitch by Erlich permitted the man on third to score, thus making the game a tie. Belden braced then, and aided by a snappy double play prevented further scoring.

Try as they would, however, they could make no impression on Bobby’s pitching in their half, and the ninth inning opened with the score still a tie.

“Now for a grand rally, fellows,” urged Bobby. “We’ve got Erlich going. Keep up the good work of the last inning and the pennant is ours.”

“We’ll do it,” declared Fred. “He’s got nothing on the ball now but a prayer and a glove. Let’s go in and knock him out of the box.”

They started in as though they were going to do it. Sheets poled out a stinging single to right. Shiner followed with a screamer over shortstop’s head that carried Skeets to third while he himself pulled up at second. A shout went up when Billy met the ball full on the seam, but it died away in a groan when the second baseman made a splendid catch of the liner and returned it in time to double up Skeets as he slid into the plate.

Tumultuous cheers greeted Bobby, as he came to the bat.

“Win your own game, Bobby,” sang out Pee Wee, who had abandoned his usual laziness and all through the game had been rooting like a madman.

“Give the ball a ride!”

“Kill it!”

“Hit it a mile!”

“Show them where you live!”

Erlich looked him over carefully and then tempted him with an out drop. Bobby refused to bite.

The next came straight for his head and would have knocked him out had not Bobby dropped to the ground like a flash.

“He’s trying to bean him,” came in angry shouts from the Rockledge part of the stand.

Erlich, however, who, to do him justice, had no such intention, offered an apology which Bobby accepted without question, as he dug his toes into the ground and waited for the next offering.

It came in the form of a wide outcurve which failed to cut the plate and went for a ball.

Bobby now was on “easy street,” for there were three balls and no strikes, and his opponent had to put them over.

The next ball was to Bobby’s liking, half way between the knee and waist. He swung at it, caught it full and fair, and the ball started off toward right.

Down to first Bobby ran with the speed of a frightened jack-rabbit. He had rounded the bag before he dared to look for the ball. There it was, soaring along like a bird, while both the right and center fielders had turned their backs and were racing after it. He knew it was a sure three-bagger. Could he stretch it into a homer?

He rounded second and kept on toward third. How he ran! The wind whistled in his ears. The stands were a blur of shouting figures who had risen to their feet and were yelling like maniacs.

He touched third and saw out of the corner of his eye that the right fielder had got the ball and was steadying himself for the throw. It was to be a race between him and the ball. Then he straightened himself out for home, and now indeed his feet had wings.

On and on he went like an arrow. But the ball was coming, too. He knew it by the way the catcher threw aside his mask and settled himself for the catch. He knew it by the frantic yells of his comrades urging him on.

Twenty feet from the bag he launched himself into the air and slid into the plate in a cloud of dust. At the same instant he heard the thud of the ball in the catcher’s glove. But the ball was a fraction of a second too late.

“Safe!” cried the umpire, and Bobby rose to his feet, panting but smiling, to have what little breath was left knocked out of him by the hugging and mauling of his exulting mates.

Shiner had preceded him to the plate. The next batter struck out, and the score was now 5 to 3 in favor of Rockledge.

And there it remained, for Bobby simply refused to be cheated out of the victory and fanned the Belden boys in a row as fast as they came to the plate.

Then when the last batsman had thrown down the stick in disgust, the rejoicing Rockledge crowds surged down over the field and despite Bobby’s laughing protestations hoisted him on their shoulders and carried him about the field, dancing and yelling until their throats were hoarse.

“You were the whole cheese, Bobby,” declared Fred with his usual lack of elegance of speech.

“You had the Indian sign on them,” chortled Pee Wee.

“You tamed them good and proper,” jubilated Mouser.

“Where, oh, where is Belden now?” chanted Billy.

“Don’t forget that they played a good game,” put in Bobby generously.

“Sure they did,” agreed Pee Wee. “But we played a better.”

Dr. Raymond, who was feeling almost as delighted as the boys themselves, congratulated the team heartily, reserving especially warm praise for Bobby.

Mr. Carrier, too, took both of Bobby’s hands in his.

“You played wonderful ball to-day, Blake,” he said. “It was the hardest fight we’ve had yet, but you came through it nobly. You kept your nerve in situations that would have tested a veteran, and we’re all proud of you.”

“I’m afraid you make too much of it, Mr. Carrier,” replied Bobby. “The main thing is that the pennant is safe for another year at Rockledge School.”

There was a great celebration on the Rockledge campus that night in honor of the victory. Rules were relaxed and the boys were allowed to do just about as they chose. A great heap of boxes and barrels had been piled up to a height of a dozen feet or more, saturated with oil and set on fire, while the jubilant Rockledge boys did a snake dance around the blazing pile. Even Pee Wee danced, and when that animated mountain so far forgot his natural laziness as to indulge in dancing it was positive proof that the occasion was worth it.

Bobby had been accorded the honor of setting the torch to the pile in recognition of the part he had played in the winning of the pennant, but when in addition he was called on for a speech he, blushing furiously, took refuge behind his comrades, and Billy, who had no scruples against being in the limelight, took his place and regaled the crowd with some of his choicest jokes.

It was late when the flames at last died down and the tired but happy boys agreed to call it a day and sought the beds that beckoned them.

The baseball game had practically marked the ending of the school term, though one or two of the final examinations still remained. These, however, had no terror for Bobby and Fred, who came through them with flying colors. Then nothing remained but to pack up and make ready for home and the long glorious summer vacation to which they had been looking forward for so long.

It was a hilarious crowd that finally bade farewell to Rockledge School. Skeets, Shiner, Mouser and Billy were to accompany Bobby and Fred for a part of the way, though the first two were to separate from their comrades at a junction a little way down the line.

If a dark shadow, dangerous and menacing, was hanging over some of the party, they were blissfully unconscious of it. Life ran strong in their veins and the future seemed to be made up of sunshine and roses. They laughed, wrestled and frolicked, as full of vim and spirit as so many young colts turned out to pasture.

Almost before they knew it, the junction was reached and they got off on the platform. The train that Skeets and Shiner were to take was already waiting, and they had barely time to scramble aboard with shouted farewells to their comrades.

When Fred and Bobby consulted the station agent they learned that there had been a change in the schedule and that the train they had expected to take had left an hour before. There would not be another one on that branch until nearly dark. This was somewhat disconcerting, as they had counted on being home in time for supper and now found themselves faced by the prospect of having to spend the long summer afternoon at this forlorn little junction, where there was absolutely nothing that promised amusement.

As they came out of the station to impart this information to their friends, they found Mouser and Billy standing spellbound before some gorgeous circus posters that had been plastered on the side of an old barn at the far end of the platform.

There was the usual “unparalleled aggregation of matchless, magnificent marvels, gathered together at vast expense from all quarters of the habitable globe,” the wonderful trapezists and acrobats in their “stupendous, death-defying leaps,” the “peerless queen of bareback riders on her milk-white Arabian steed,” the glorious procession of daring knights and fair ladies in the tournament of love and beauty and all the other features that maintain their thrall and witchery for the young.

Though duly impressed by these spectacular features, the boys had seen similar ones before. What especially fastened their attention was the picture of an Eskimo chief with his trained walrus. This was a novelty, and as such had a special and instant appeal.

“Gee!” said Billy wistfully, “how I wish we could see them. This is the same circus I was telling you fellows about a few days ago.”

“Where is it showing?” asked Bobby, as a thought struck him.

“Bayport,” replied Fred, reading from the bottom of the poster. “They’re to be in that town to-day. Where is Bayport?”

Bobby rushed into the station.

“Can you tell me where Bayport is?” he asked the station agent.

“Sure,” replied the latter. “It’s about fifteen miles from here on a branch line. Want to go there? A train will be along in about fifteen minutes.”

“If we go there, can we get back this afternoon in time for the Clinton train?” Bobby inquired.

“That depends on how long you want to stay there,” the agent answered. “There’s a train leaves there about five that would bring you back here in plenty of time.”

Bobby thought for a moment. The circus performance began at two. It would probably be over by half past four. That would give them plenty of time to catch the five o’clock train back.

He ran out to his friends.

“Say, fellows,” he shouted, “what do you say to taking in the circus? I’ve just found out that we can go there and get back in time for our train.”

What did they say? They fairly jumped at the proposal.

In a few minutes the train came along, and after having left their suitcases in the charge of the good-hearted station agent they piled on board, helter-skelter, and were off.

It took only about half an hour to reach their destination. They were surprised to find that Bayport was a large shipping town. A multitude of vessels of all sizes and descriptions were in the harbor, and the wharfs were piled high with merchandise. It was a scene of busy life and bustle, and the boys would have lingered to watch it had it not been for the much greater fascination of the circus. Two o’clock was fast approaching, and they hurried along so as to be in time for good seats. Besides, they wanted to take in some of the side shows if possible before the main performance began.

They heard the music of the band before they came in sight of the grounds, and it still further stimulated their eagerness.

They turned a corner and there before them were the white circus tents with a crowd already wandering about the grounds, the sideshows with the bearded lady, the snake-charmer, the ossified man, the human-pincushion, the fat woman, the midgets, the strong man and other freaks, the array of elephants trumpeting and tossing their trunks, the small boys carrying water for the animals and thus earning free admission to the show, the peanut and lemonade booths, all pervaded by the unforgettable, pungent smell inseparable from the city of tents.

They were walking about and taking in all the sights with the keenest interest when Bobby put his hand suddenly on Fred’s arm.

“Look at those two fellows over there,” he cried, indicating a spot near the ticket taker’s wagon.

Fred looked in that direction, but the crowd was constantly changing and he saw nothing that explained Bobby’s exclamation.

“What is it?” he asked in wonderment.

“I thought I saw a couple of the bullies that we drove away from Dr. Raymond’s apple tree,” replied Bobby, straining his eyes as he searched the crowd.

“It might have been only a resemblance,” suggested Fred.

“Perhaps,” said Bobby dubiously. “But I was certain that one of them was that Lemming, the leader of the gang. And the other looked like the fellow that I doubled up with the baseball.”

“Well, even if it was, that wouldn’t be so surprising” rejoined Fred. “This circus is drawing people from towns for many miles around and those fellows are as likely to come as any one else. Do you think they saw you?”

“They weren’t looking our way when I caught sight of them,” answered Bobby. “As you say, it might have been only a resemblance. And, anyway, they couldn’t put anything over on us in such a crowd as this.”

And in the multitude of things to see and hear the incident passed entirely out of his mind.

“I say, fellows,” exclaimed Billy, “I’ll bet that fellow standing over there is the Eskimo chief, the one they call Takyak on the circus poster. He looks just like the pictures of the Eskimos I’ve seen.”

The man in question was a stocky Eskimo with the broad flat features that proclaimed his race. He was standing rather moodily in the shadow of one of the tents with a distant look in his eyes as though his thoughts were far away.

He glanced carelessly at the boys as they drew near him, and then something about them seemed to awaken his liking, for his face took on a friendly smile.

They smiled in answer, and in response to a question that Bobby rather timidly addressed to him he surprised them by answering in English. It was broken and imperfect but easily understandable. They learned afterward that he had picked it up from the traders who came to his country for seals and fur, and of course his trip with the circus had added considerably to his knowledge of the language.

The boys’ evident interest seemed to please him and he unbent a good deal from the habitual reticence common with his people. They learned from him that he was homesick and longing to be back in his native land.

“Too hot here,” he told them among other things. “Want snow. Plenty ice up Baffin Land. Ice houses. Everything ice. That good for Eskimo.”

“Ice and snow,” murmured Fred. “I wonder—”

“Look out!” suddenly yelled Bobby. And then he made a quick move toward the Eskimo and pushed him back.

Bobby had seen a tent pole swaying. Some guy ropes had broken and the big pole was coming down directly where the Eskimo stood. It struck the ground with a thud, missing Chief Takyak by a few inches.

“Great Caesar!” cried Billy. “Look at that, will you!”

“A close call for Takyak,” remarked Fred.

Some circus men came running forward, to ascertain if anybody had been hurt, and to hoist the pole into place again. The Eskimo chief was startled but speedily regained his composure.

“Boy push me just in time,” he said, with a queer little smile. “No push out of way, big pole maybe kill old Takyak.”

“I’m glad I saw it coming,” answered Bobby. He was a good deal upset himself—indeed they all were. They moved to another spot and the old Eskimo put his hand on Bobby’s shoulder.

“Takyak thank you,” he said simply, and his manner showed that he was deeply grateful.

“Oh, that’s all right,” answered Bobby, not knowing what else to say.

Now the boys felt better acquainted with the old chief and began to ask him a number of questions.

When they asked him why he stayed in this country if he wanted so much to go back to his own his brow clouded.

“Must stay,” he said. “Circus man give me money—make contract. He tell me no go home. But I no want money. Heaps of money up North—yellow money—gold. Old ship there. Men drown. Plenty m——”

But here he seemed to think he was talking too much and drew back into his shell.

“Must go now,” he muttered, and vanished behind the curtain of the tent.

The boys gazed after the Eskimo in wonder.

“Gee, did you hear what he said?” declared Fred. “Heaps of money up North. What did he mean?”

“I give up,” answered Bobby. “But come on. We came here to see the show.”

The billboards advertising this particular circus had not been of a very modest or retiring description, but for once the show almost came up to the lurid praises sung so enthusiastically by the press agent.

There was not such a wide variety of acts as the biggest circuses present, but all the acts there were seemed to be of the best quality. The acrobats performed marvelously on their dizzy, swinging trapezes, the clowns evoked the usual laughter, and the trained animal acts were good. Among the cleverest of these was the act of the old Eskimo with his trained walrus. This animal seemed gifted with almost human intelligence. It balanced itself on rolling barrels, juggled canes, and went through the whole performance as though it thoroughly enjoyed the doing of it, which it probably did. After each successful trick the old Eskimo would throw the walrus a small fish, which it would catch in mid-air and swallow in one gulp, and then go on to the next act with renewed enthusiasm.

When the act was over the audience applauded vigorously as the walrus flopped in its clumsy way back into its cage.

“Gee,” laughed Bobby, “one of those fellows would make a fine pet, if only he were a little more lively on his feet. I’ll bet you could teach him to do almost anything.”

“He seems to have a lot more brains than some people I know,” observed Billy Bassett. “I’m not naming any names, of course, but if that remark happens to apply to any of you fellows, I can’t help that.”

“Well, it’s pretty certain that walrus never tried to make up a joke in his life, and that proves that he’s got more sense than you,” retorted Bobby.

“That’s a true word, Bobby,” observed Fred, grinning, while Billy cast desperately about for a suitable retort. “Give me a walrus rather than a jokesmith any day in the year.”

“Yes, the walrus seems so intelligent,” said Bobby wickedly.

“Say, lay off, you fellows,” said Billy. “I was just thinking up a fine joke about a walrus when you started in with that nonsense and drove it out of my head.”

“And a good thing we did,” said Fred. “Every joke you forget is just that much gained for us. But now keep quiet and look at the show. Those clowns are working off some jokes that are the real thing, not mere amateur attempts.”

“Aw, I could think up better ones any day,” scoffed Billy. “Those fellows are nothing wonderful.”

“Yes, I’ll bet you’d make a first-class clown,” conceded Fred, with a wink at Bobby. “You seem to be specially fitted for that job, some way.”

“Just wait until we get outside,” threatened Billy. “I’ll bribe the keeper to feed you to the lions, see if I don’t.”

“Huh! Lions don’t bother me,” boasted Fred. “If they put me in the same cage with the lions, you’d see a wild mix-up for a few minutes, and then the poor beasts would come shooting out through the bars looking for some place of safety. There’s nothing I like better than throwing lions around.”

“It isn’t right to treat the poor animals that way,” said Bobby, pretending to take his friend seriously. “It’s much better to treat them kindly—pat them on the head and speak soothing words to them. That’s the way I do when I’m training wild tigers just out of the jungle.”

“Humph!” snorted Fred, with pretended contempt, and there the matter dropped.

All followed intently the further progress of the performance. At the last came the exciting chariot race, and the show was over.

The boys filed out with the crowd, and made the round of the stands and booths that were scattered about the circus lot. Pink lemonade and hot peanuts were to be had in riotous abundance, and they indulged in both these luxuries. Billy suggested that now would be a good time for his friends to exhibit their prowess with the lions and tigers, but as they were strangely reluctant, this project was dropped, but not without a few sarcastic remarks from Billy.

“Why, say, Billy, you know well enough we haven’t time for fooling around just now,” expostulated Fred. “We’ve got to get a train pretty soon, and here you are pestering us to go in and rough up a few poor animals that can’t help themselves.”

“That’s right,” said Bobby, in a tone of gentle reproof. “You ought to know better, Billy. Besides, the management wouldn’t stand for it, anyway. Those animals cost them a lot of money, and they wouldn’t like to have to buy new ones.”

“Huh! the management wouldn’t mind,” snorted Billy. “It would save them buying supper for the animals this evening. But you fellows are better at thinking up excuses than I am at thinking up jokes, so I suppose there’s no use talking to you any further.”

“Not a bit,” Bobby assured him cheerfully. “But speaking of Eskimos, isn’t that the old chief himself over there?”

The others followed the direction of his nod, and sure enough, there was Chief Takyak talking with a heavy, red-faced person, who carried himself like one who followed the sea for a livelihood.

The two were talking earnestly together, and as the boys watched them the seaman drew a notebook from his breast pocket and jotted down something in it. Then he and the old chief shook hands. The latter started for his tent while the seaman went off with the rolling stride that comes of walking on the heaving decks of ships.

“Wonder what they were talking about?” speculated Bobby.

“Maybe it had something to do with that ‘fortune’ that old Takyak hinted about to us,” replied Fred. “Maybe there’s something in it, after all.”

“Possibly,” said Bobby, seriously. “But we haven’t much time to talk about it right now. Our train is scheduled to leave in about half an hour, and I vote we get to the station as soon as we can. It’s better to wait a few minutes than to lose the train.”

The others agreed to this, and they set off at a rapid pace. They had not gone far when they turned at the sound of running feet behind them and a breathless small boy came panting up to them.

“Well, young fellow, what seems to be your trouble?” asked Fred. “You look as though you were in a hurry.”

“So I am,” said the youngster aggrievedly. “Youse fellers walk so fast I has to run my legs off to catch youse.”

“But what did you want to catch us for?” queried Bobby.

“Dere’s some friends o’ yours wants to speak wid youse,” said the urchin. “They told me to ast youse to visit dem.”

“Friends!” repeated Bobby, perplexed. “I’m sure I don’t know anybody in Bayport. Have any of you fellows got any friends or relatives in this town?”

None had, and they gazed questioningly at one another and then tried to elicit further information from the boy. But he could do little to enlighten them, and they decided to investigate.

“Lead on, kid, show us the way and be quick about it,” said Bobby, and they all followed in the wake of their small guide. He led them several blocks, then up a narrow street and around an abrupt corner into an alleyway. The boys’ mystification was suddenly dispelled, for from a doorway stepped Hen Lemming, followed by the members of his gang!

The face of the bully wore an ugly scowl, and Bobby and his friends realized that they were in for trouble. However, it was not of their seeking, and there was no way out except flight, which did not even occur to them.

“You fellers are certainly easy,” sneered Lemming. “You came to make us a nice little visit, didn’t you? Well, now that you’re here, we’ll try to give you the kind of welcome you deserve after chasing us away from Doc Raymond’s apple tree.”

“That was your own fault, and there’s no use holding a grudge against us for it,” answered Bobby.

“Don’t argue with him, Hen,” growled one ugly-looking member of the gang. “Let’s give ’em the lickin’ that’s comin’ to them, an’ git it over with.”

“If it comes to lickings, maybe it will be the other way around,” said Fred, his quick temper rapidly rising to the boiling point. “It’s a poor game that two can’t play at.”

The bullies made no answer to this, but began to close in on the boys. Opposing the toughs were Bobby, Fred, Mouser, and Billy. They were outnumbered by Hen’s gang, which consisted of four besides himself. They were so much larger and heavier than the boys they confronted that they seemed to think they had “soft pickings” ahead of them.

But in this they reckoned without their host. The boys’ blood was up, and even in a hopeless battle they were not going to be beaten without a struggle. The bullies made a concerted rush at Bobby and his friends, and by mere weight made them give ground for a moment. But they were right back at their foes and struck out gallantly with all their force. They were strong and athletic for their age, and the school sports had kept them in fine condition, while the bullies, though older, were soft and dissipated. Bobby lashed out and caught Lemming with a well-directed punch in the jaw while the other boys fought like young wildcats.

The fight waxed fast and furious in the narrow alleyway. Mouser was knocked down, but Bobby and Fred stood over him and beat his assailants off until their comrade could struggle to his feet.

Fierce wrath was in the hearts of the trapped boys and the light of battle gleamed in their eyes.

Their unexpectedly strong resistance daunted the gang opposed to them, and there was still a chance that the boys might win when three other toughs dashed out of the hallway and joined the gang. This accession of force was too much, and Bobby and his chums were overborne. Then their hands were tied and they were carried into one of the mean and dirty-looking houses.

Once inside the house the bullies went through their pockets and took their money, watches and everything else of value. The rascals then withdrew to one corner of the room and held a lengthy whispered conversation which the boys could not hear. It was not hard to deduce that they were the subjects of the discussion, however, and the boys waited with what patience they could muster for the next move.

Nor had they long to wait. The conference in the corner came to an end, and Hen Lemming approached them.

“You fellers will be sorry that you ever interfered with me before I get through with you,” he blustered. “It will be a long time before you get back home. I’ll show you that it doesn’t pay to butt in on my affairs.”

“We don’t ask any pay; it’s a pleasure,” said Billy, with an attempt at a grin, but Hen’s scowl only grew deeper.

“You’ll be laughing out of the other side of your face pretty soon,” he threatened. “Take them down to the cellar, boys, and be sure you lock the door after you when you come up. I don’t want to take any chances of their getting away.”

Resistance in their present predicament was out of the question, and the four boys were hustled down a dark flight of steps and into a damp and moldy cellar, without a ray of light in it except the few feeble gleams that percolated down from the door at the top of the stairs. Even this was soon shut off, and they heard the door slam and the sound of a key being turned in the lock.

Bobby was the first to speak.

“We seem to be out of luck, fellows,” he said, with an extremely rueful laugh. “I never thought that big bully would ever get the best of us, but it looks as though he had at last.”

“It’s his turn now, all right, but ours will come,” said Fred. “I wonder if there isn’t any way out of this black hole.”

“You wouldn’t be able to see it, if there were,” said Bobby. “Let’s feel around the walls and see if we can discover anything.”

This they did, but without success. The damp walls seemed unbroken by any opening save that place where the stairs led down from the floor above. Time and again they felt painstakingly about the clammy place, but the last trip was no more profitable than the first.

“I guess we’re up against it,” said Mouser, at last. “About the only thing left to do is sit down and wait for the next move on the part of the jailers. They’ve got us dead to rights, and I suppose there’s no use squealing.”

“Not a bit in the world,” agreed Bobby. “Likely enough they’re only trying to scare us, anyway. Maybe when they think we’ve been down here long enough, they’ll let us go.”

“Well, I’d like to get a wallop or two at Lemming before I go,” remarked Fred, grimly. “That was a beaut that you handed him at the beginning of the scrimmage, Bobby.”

“I landed him the best I knew how, anyway,” acknowledged his friend. “I guess he knew something had hit him.”

The boys did their best to keep up their spirits and remain cheerful, but as the hours dragged themselves along and no sound came from their captors, their misgivings grew stronger and stronger. What had Hen Lemming meant when he had said that it would be a long time before they saw home again? Was this mere idle talk on the part of the bully, or was there a sinister intention behind it? These and many other speculations occupied their minds in the endless hours that they spent in the moldy cellar, and it was with sensations of relief that they at last heard the key grate in the lock at the head of the stairs.

“Come up here one by one, you fellows, and be quick about it,” ordered the harsh voice of the leader of the bullies, and the boys had no choice but to obey.

Bobby was the first to ascend the stairs, and as he reached the top he was seized, a gag thrust into his mouth, and something smothering and muffling descended over his head. He struggled fiercely, but he had no chance against the superior numbers of his captors. A heavy sack was drawn down over his head and shoulders until it reached his feet, and then the open end was gathered together and he found himself as helpless as a prisoner well could be. What had happened to his companions he did not know, and was almost afraid to imagine.

He was dropped none too gently to the floor, where he lay for quite a while. He could hear his captors moving about the room and talking in low voices, but could not make out what was said. After a long time he heard the voice of Lemming, apparently giving some order, and shortly afterward he was lifted to the shoulders of two of the gang. These men descended a different flight of steps from those leading into the cellar where the boys had originally been confined, and near the bottom they set Bobby down and seemed to be fumbling with something.

In reality, one of them was undoing a padlock that secured a door set into a stone wall, and after considerable difficulty he yanked the door open and the two men picked up their helpless burden again and proceeded through a narrow and damp tunnel. The passage was scarcely five feet high, and many times Bobby was bumped and scraped against the roof as the two men carried him along.

At length the narrow passage broadened out, and they set Bobby down with grunts of relief. After resting a few minutes they carried him up a slippery ladder to an old wharf. Alongside this floated a small rowboat, and into this Bobby was thrown in no gentle manner. Then each of the two men picked up a pair of oars, and Bobby could hear the regular beat of the oars in the rowlocks and the lap and murmur of water under the boards on which he lay.

The two men rowed steadily for ten or fifteen minutes, conversing at intervals in a conversation plentifully besprinkled with rude jests. At the end of that time the rowing suddenly ceased, and the steady ripple of water at the bow died down until Bobby knew that they must just be drifting. Whatever was in store for him, he hoped it would come soon and end the nerve-racking suspense.

The men soon resorted to their oars once more, but this time they rowed very slowly and cautiously, stopping at frequent intervals. They were approaching a big schooner lying at anchor in the bay, and as they neared it Bobby could hear the rattle of cranes and winches and the puffing of donkey engines.

For a long time the rowboat in which he lay remained stationary, but then, at a word from one of the two men, it moved forward under the impulse of the oars, and shortly afterward Bobby felt a bump as the bow struck against something.

A moment later he was seized and thrown on top of a heap of boxes and bags. “Guess that’ll fix him,” said one of the men. “And we’ll square up with Cap Garrish for his meanness. Now let’s get away from here before anybody gets wise to us,” and Bobby could hear the rapid beat of oars going away from him.

He did his best to struggle and cry out, but he had been so securely bound and gagged that he could hardly move and found it absolutely impossible to make any outcry. He was still endeavoring to free himself when he suddenly felt himself lifted bodily into the air, together with the boxes and bags on which the two ruffians had landed him. He was lifted rapidly upward, there was a rattle of blocks and the creak of cables, and he felt a sinking sensation as he was dropped swiftly downward. This lasted only a second or two, and then he brought up with a crash as bags and boxes tumbled all about him.

Though Bobby himself could not know just what was taking place, the schooner was loading from a lighter floating alongside, taking the cargo aboard in a net made of ropes, which with its contents was lifted by a crane and swung into the hold. When it landed the net was unfastened and the contents dumped out into the hold. The two rascals had watched their chance, and when the derrick was momentarily idle they had thrown Bobby into the net where, wrapped in the sack, he looked like any article of cargo.

When the winch resumed operations he was swung over into the ship’s hold, where it was only by a miracle that he escaped death or serious injury from the heavy bags and boxes that rolled all about him. Fortunately, the ship was almost through loading, and Bobby had not been in the hold very long before the rattle of the winch ceased, the hatches were clamped down, and momentary silence reigned in the dark hold. Evidently the trimming of this portion of the cargo was to take place later.

The air was hot and close, with a strong flavor of bilge water, and Bobby knew that if he did not soon get out of the stifling sack he would suffocate. He worked desperately at his bonds, straining every muscle in an effort to win freedom. For an hour he struggled sturdily, until he could feel a little looseness in the rope that bound his hands together. Little by little he wormed his hand out, bruising and lacerating it in the process, but caring nothing for that if he could only succeed.

At last with a desperate effort Bobby got his right hand clear, and then the rest was comparatively easy. He tore away the gag that was slowly stifling the life out of him, and then tore at the sack until he had made a rent in it. He got his feet free, and at last wriggled out of the sack, exhausted by his strenuous efforts, but with the will to live strong within him.

Then he had time to wonder what had become of his companions. Had they by any chance been brought to this same place? As the thought struck him he shouted their names. He thought he heard a muffled answer at the other side of the hold. He groped his way along toward the sound, stumbling over innumerable articles that encumbered the place, but getting steadily nearer the muffled voice that he was sure must belong to one of his friends. He would have given anything he possessed for a light, but the darkness was absolute. At length, however, he located the sound, and after feeling around discovered a sack that moved and gave forth sounds of protest when he stumbled over it. In a twinkling he had ripped it open, and with a joyful heart found good old Ginger within. It did not take long to free Fred of his bonds, and the two slapped each other joyously on the back in the relief at finding each other still alive, even though they were in desperate straits.

“There’s Mouser and Billy still to be accounted for, though,” said Bobby. “They’re probably in this place somewhere, but I haven’t heard anybody but you since I’ve been here.”

“You wouldn’t have heard me either, if I hadn’t managed to get that gag out of my mouth,” said Fred. “I only hope I get hold of the bunch that’s responsible for putting it there,” he added, and there was a grim determination in his voice that boded ill for Hen Lemming and his friends.

The two friends set about hunting for the others, but in that black hold it seemed an almost hopeless undertaking. But as it turned out, their aid was not needed, for before they had been hunting very long both Billy and Mouser succeeded in freeing themselves, and, guided by each other’s voices, the four friends came together.

“We’re in a fine pickle still, but just the same we’re all alive and no bones broken, and that’s half the battle,” said Bobby. “I’m not just sure where we are, but I think I have a pretty good idea.”

“That’s more than I have,” said Billy.

“I think we’re on board a ship,” went on Bobby. “If we are, it’s up to us to get off again as soon as possible. It may be bound for China for all we know, and I don’t hanker after taking any voyage like that without our folks knowing anything about it. They’ll think we’ve been killed when we don’t show up.”

“That’s right,” agreed Fred, gravely. “I agree with you that we ought to get ashore, Bobby. But have you any idea how we’re going to do it?”

“Our only chance seems to be to set up a big enough racket to draw attention,” replied Bobby. “I don’t believe the crew know anything about our being here, and if we can once make our presence known we’ll probably be sent ashore soon enough. Let’s bang on the walls and yell and see if that gets any results.”

They did both these things, but to all appearances they might as well have saved themselves the trouble. No answering sound came to show that they were heard, and in the midst of their efforts a new thing happened. A slow shudder ran through the ship, it trembled and vibrated, and then a rhythmic pulse began beating somewhere in the huge fabric.

The boys ceased their shouting and hammering, as the meaning of this sank in upon them. Under the power of the auxiliary engine the ship was moving, and they, prisoners on board, were being taken to a destination that for all they knew, might be on the other side of the world!

Billy was the first to break the portentous silence. “We don’t know where we’re going, but we’re on our way,” he chanted lugubriously. “It looks to me as though we are in a regular mess.”

“It’s wonderful the way you catch on to things right away without any one having to tell you,” said Fred sarcastically. “How in the world did you ever find it out, Billy?”

“You fellows had better cut out the humor and set your wits to work at some plan to get us out of this,” said Bobby, impatiently. “We’ve got to attract attention some way, there’s no two ways about it.”

They shouted and hammered at the bulkheads until both their throats and muscles were sore, but with no better success than before. They realized the futility of the attempt after a time and held a council.

“We’re here, and so we might as well make the best of it,” observed Bobby. “There’s no telling when we’ll be discovered here—possibly not until the ship makes port. The first thing to do is to try to find something among all this mess of cargo that’s fit to eat. I don’t know about you fellows, but I feel as though a little grub might not go so bad.”

“I guess we all feel that way,” said Fred. “Even if there’s food in this place, though, it’s going to be an awfully hard thing to find it in such black darkness.”

“Darkness or no darkness, we’ll get it if it’s here,” replied Bobby, grimly. “Feel around and see if you can find anything that will break these boxes open. We’ll just have to keep at it until we do find some grub.”

The boys stumbled about in the pitchy darkness, but for a long time could not find a suitable tool. At length Mouser succeeded in discovering a loose top on a crate, and by all pulling together they managed to pry this loose. This gave them a lever with which they could lift the covers off other crates, and soon they were busily at work, although the pitch darkness and close air of the hold were great handicaps. The first two crates they opened yielded nothing that would be of service to them, but the third one proved more valuable.

“There’s cans of something in this one!” cried Fred, excitedly. “I only hope there’s something inside that’s fit to eat.”

“More likely it’s filled with white lead,” said Mouser, pessimistically.

“It doesn’t feel quite heavy enough for that,” replied Fred. “But now the question is, how are we going to get them open? Those crooks didn’t even leave me my jackknife, worse luck to them.”

“There’s some big nails in the cover of one of these crates,” said Bobby. “I’m going to have a try at the can with that,” and he forthwith fell to work with an energy that was ably assisted by a growing appetite. In a short time he had hacked an edge of the cover loose, and then gave a whoop of delight.

“It’s corn, fellows, or I don’t know anything,” he shouted. “Dig out a can apiece and go to it.”

They all “went to it” with a will, and they were soon eating their fill. Never had corn tasted so good before, and they each cleaned out a can without the least difficulty. There were dozens more in the crate, and they had little doubt that where there was one box full there would be others. Further exploration proved this to be the case, and they had soon unearthed several varieties of foodstuffs, so that they knew they would not have to fear starvation, no matter how long the voyage proved to be. They found some cans of tomatoes, which served to relieve their thirst.

“We seem to be provisioned for a cruise around the world,” remarked Billy. “If only it wasn’t so confoundedly dark, this wouldn’t be half bad. I feel like lying down and having a good long nap.”

“I guess nobody will stop you,” said Fred. “There doesn’t seem to be much else to do, as far as I know.”

Billy stretched himself out in the most comfortable corner he could find, but sleep was not as easy as he had imagined. The ship was getting out to sea and was beginning to roll with a long, deliberate motion, that was most unsettling to a landsman. In addition to this, various loose boxes began to shift about, and the boys were in imminent danger of being struck by one of these. In the darkness it was impossible to dodge, and they had simply to trust to luck to escape injury. Evidently the ship was sailing in a hurry, before the cargo could be properly stowed away.

After a while the cargo settled down somewhat, and the danger lessened, but still there were occasional small landslides whenever the ship gave an unusually violent roll.

Bobby had been doing some thinking, and now he gave voice to his conclusions.

“It seems to me there must be an electric light in this place somewhere,” he said. “Probably there’s a switch somewhere if we could only find it. I’m going to look for one, anyway, and it wouldn’t do any harm if you fellows did the same thing, although I hate to disturb Billy’s beauty sleep.”

“Sleep nothing!” exclaimed Billy. “How do you think I can sleep when this old tub is skipping around like one of the clowns in the circus? Anybody that could sleep in this place would have to be pretty tired, it seems to me.”

“Well, if you can’t sleep, get on the job, then, and try to locate a switch somewhere,” said Bobby. “The only thing to do is to feel around the walls and trust to luck that we’ll find one. If we don’t, we won’t be any worse off.”

The boys started out on their quest, more for the sake of having something to do than with any idea of actually finding a switch. But they had hardly started when Mouser gave a cry of triumph, there was a sharp click, and the place was illuminated by two electric bulbs high up under the decks. The light was far from bright, but it was infinitely better than no light, and the boys shouted delightedly at this stroke of luck.

“Bobby, you’re right there with the inspirations!” exclaimed Fred, slapping him on the back.

“Try again and see if you can’t think us up on deck. I wouldn’t put it beyond you.”

“While you’re about it, you might as well think us home and sitting out on the front porch,” said Billy. “It wouldn’t be so much harder.”

“Maybe if you’d do a little more thinking, I wouldn’t have to do so much,” said Bobby.

“Thinking!” echoed Billy, in an aggrieved tone.

“Don’t I think up all the jokes for this crowd? If I don’t, who does, I’d like to know.”

“Oh, well, that’s worse than no thinking,” declared Fred. “That doesn’t really come under the head of thought at all, as Mr. Carrier would say.”

“What is it, then?” demanded his friend.

“It’s just bum humor, neither more nor less,” retorted Fred. “I’ll leave it to the others if I’m not right.”

“No, I don’t think you are,” said Mouser, seriously. “I don’t think it’s humor at all, bum or otherwise. It’s just something that makes me feel sad, something like having a stomachache, for instance.”

“Oh, you go chase yourself!” exclaimed Billy, disgustedly. “I’m not going to waste any more time on you ungrateful knockers. Now that we’ve got light, I’m going to fix myself up a bunk where even this dizzy ship can’t shake me loose, and then I’m going to sleep until we reach China and they take the hatches off.”

“Well, pleasant dreams,” said Fred, grinning. “We’ll wake you up in time to go and tell your troubles to the Chinks.”

“We ought to be able to get our laundry cleaned cheap,” said Billy, with a feeble attempt at a joke. “Where there are so many Chinamen, the competition in the laundry business must be fierce.”

“There’s just a bare possibility that we’ll get out of here before we get that far,” said Bobby. “Don’t give up hope so easily, Billy.”

“Hope and I are strangers just at present,” answered Billy, lugubriously. “Be sure you have my bawth waiting for me when I wake up, James.”

“The only bath you’ll get will be if this tub springs a leak, and then you may get more than you’re looking for,” Fred assured him.

“Well, don’t let me be disturbed, no matter what happens,” said Billy. “Just take something and mop it up, and don’t bother me about it. Good night, fellow Argonauts.”

“Oh, go to sleep and don’t call us names,” said Mouser, and Billy obeyed orders to the letter.

The boys had no means of keeping track of the time, and the hours followed each other in an endless procession. They had plenty to eat, but when four days had passed they would have given anything they owned to be out of that stifling hold and up on the clean, windswept decks. They had almost given up hope of this, when suddenly there was the sound of footsteps on the deck far above their heads and the scraping sound of a hatch being removed.

A broad ray of sunshine came streaming into the hold and the four boys gave a shout of joy at the sight. Bobby made for the ladder that led up toward the hatchway, and the others followed close at his heels.

“What in thunder’s going on here? Stowaways, and four of them, or I’ll be blowed!” exclaimed a hoarse voice, as the boys tumbled out on deck. “How in the name of all that’s good did you fellows get into that hold? Ain’t been stowing cargo, have you?”

The voice was that of the second mate, and his astonishment was ludicrous to behold. Behind him were two or three seamen, who also regarded the boys in open-mouthed wonder. They had been coming down to make everything shipshape in the hold.

“We’re not stowaways,” said Bobby, indignantly. “We were shanghaied on board this ship by a bunch of thugs. You can bet we’re not here because we want to be!”

“Well, I guess you’d better tell that to the captain and see what he says about it,” replied the second mate. “I’m thinkin’ he won’t be particularly overjoyed to see you on board his vessel, but then he’ll probably be able to find plenty for you to do. We’re short-handed.”

“What he wants us to do and what we do may be different things,” retorted Fred, his quick temper getting the better of his diplomacy.

The sailors snickered, and the second mate glared at them and then at Fred. No suitable retort occurring to him, however, he merely grunted and strode forward until they reached the bridge.

“Here’s a flock of stowaways we found down in the forward hold, Mr. Garrish,” he said. “They claim that they were shanghaied aboard. But, of course, that’s what they all say.”

“It’s the truth in this case though,” said Bobby, flushing at this slur on his honesty. “I wouldn’t say that, if it weren’t true.”

“How did you get aboard!” asked Captain Garrish, and then Bobby gave him a brief account of how they had been attacked by the bullies and carried out to the ship. The captain listened attentively, and seemed more inclined to accept his account than had the second mate.

“If what you tell me is true, I suppose I can’t blame you for it,” he said, eying them moodily. “But I certainly don’t need four passengers on this trip.”

“We don’t have to be passengers, exactly,” answered Bobby. “We’ll help earn our keep in one way or another. But wouldn’t it be possible for you to put us on board some vessel bound back to the United States? That would probably suit you better, and it certainly would us.”

“Well, well. I’ll do the best I can,” said the captain. “It was a lucky thing you found those crates of canned goods in the hold. Probably, though, you’d all relish a meal of hot food by this time. How about it?”

“We’re not the ones to say no to that,” admitted Bobby, and in a short time the boys were seated about a table in the cabin and were enjoying the first hot meal for four days. The cook on that vessel was not noted for his skill, but the boys thought that never in their lives had they tasted better food. They cleaned their plates more than once, and won the whole-souled admiration of the mess boy who waited on them. The latter was a negro, and prided himself on his own ability to consume food, but he was forced to admit that the boys were his superiors.

“You white boys sho’ mus’ hold cards in de platter-polishers’ union,” he declared, with a grin that seemed to split his ebony countenance from ear to ear. “Doan ’member when Ah ever seen nobody relish dere food so thorough as you does.”

“Maybe if you’d lived on cold canned tomatoes and corn for a few days, you’d be able to work up an appetite, Mose,” remarked Billy.

“Ah doan nebber have to work up an appetite, nohow,” declared the darky, with a grin. “Seems lak it done come natchel to me, somehow. But you white boys is about two skips an’ a hop ahead o’ me.”

“We’ll slow down after we’ve had a few square meals,” said Bobby. “But tell me, Mose, where is this ship bound for?”

“Fo’ de No’th Pole,” declared the darky solemnly, with a shake of his woolly head.

“The North Pole!” echoed Billy, while the others sat agape. “Are you trying to kid us, Mose?”

“Well, ef it ain’t de No’th Pole it’s some place dat ain’t fur from it,” declared the negro. “Dis mawnin’ Ah heered de captain say dat we’d be seein’ de No’the’n Lights pretty soon, an’ Ah reckons dem lights ain’t fur from de No’th Pole, is dey?”

“Good-night!” exclaimed, Billy, in a comical tone of dismay. “This is getting worse and worse. I was prepared to learn Chinese, but now it seems we’re going to pay a visit to the Eskimos, and I haven’t got my English-Eskimo dictionary with me. I must have left it lying around the house when I left.”

“Eskimo!” exclaimed the darky. “Dat’s de name ob de feller de captain’s got aboard wid him. Dat’s his name, sure enough.”

The boys looked at each other, and then Billy gave a laugh.

“That’s a new name on me,” he said. “I guess you mean he’s got an Eskimo with him, don’t you!”

“Mebbe so. Ah ain’t quite shuah. But he’s a strange-lookin’ critter, anyhow, and furdermo’, it’s a funny kind ob animal he brought aboard wid him jest befo’ we pulled up de anchor,” said Mose.

“What kind of animal?” asked Bobby, quickly. “It wasn’t a walrus, was it?”

“Ah cain’t say about dat,” said the other. “Doan know whut is de name ob de outlandish critter. But jest de same Ah doan like his looks. Floppin’ aroun’ in a tank, wid big teeth an whiskers lak a cat. Ah dares to goodness, it doan seem as dough de Lord could hab made sech a critter, deed it don’t.”

But the boys paid little heed to the negro’s outraged sense of propriety. Many ideas and questions flashed through their minds, and it did not take them long to reach the same conclusion.

“I’ll bet any money it’s old Chief Takyak and his trained walrus!” exclaimed Bobby, excitedly, and the others nodded their heads. “What in the world do you suppose is the big idea?”

“It may be that Takyak’s given up the circus, just as he told us he’d like to do, and is on his way home to the frozen North,” suggested Mouser. “I don’t see where there’s anything about it to get you all excited.”

“Yes, but if your memory is so good, perhaps you can recall that old Takyak was hinting around about some kind of a treasure when we were interrupted,” said Bobby. “Do you remember that after the circus we saw him talking to a man who looked like a sea captain—Say!” he exclaimed, as another idea struck him. “Haven’t any of you fellows any memory at all?”

“What do you mean?” asked Billy, in an injured tone. “If I didn’t have a better memory than you, I’d jump over the side and end my misery.”

But Bobby was too excited to take any notice of this remark.

“The man we saw talking to Takyak that day is Captain Garrish, the master of this vessel!” he said, and sat back to allow this statement to soak into the others.

Fred was just about to say something in reply, when the negro, who had been out to the galley during this conversation, returned, and the boys kept their own counsel for the rest of the meal. When it was finished they went up on deck and picked out a quiet corner where they could talk without being overheard.

“Bobby, I believe you’ve got the right idea,” said Fred, excitedly. “It looks to me as though we were maybe embarked on a treasure hunt. Maybe Hen Lemming and his gang did us a favor, after all.”

“It may be so. But still I’ve got to be shown,” said Mouser. “I still think that you’re getting excited over nothing. Maybe Takyak was just talking to the captain about taking passage home when we saw them together on the circus grounds.”

“Huh!” exclaimed Fred, contemptuously. “I suppose you think the captains of ocean-going ships go round drumming up passengers like the chauffeur of a sightseeing bus, don’t you? Maybe you think that Takyak got him to come to the circus to talk over the first cabin accommodations for walruses!”

“Oh, lay off,” returned Mouser. “Maybe you’re right, but a fellow has a right to his own opinion, hasn’t he?”

“Not when it’s such a foolish one,” said Fred, but Bobby interposed with a laugh.

“Possibly Mouser’s right, and we’re wrong,” he said. “We haven’t much to go on, that’s a fact. Let’s keep our suspicions to ourselves and keep our eyes and ears open. Maybe we can find out something from Takyak without letting him know what we’re driving at.”

This seemed about the only thing to do under the circumstances, but, as it happened, they were enlightened even sooner than they had hoped.

The boys lost no time in hunting up the old Eskimo chief. He remembered them immediately and seemed glad to see them. He made the walrus do tricks for them and talked freely enough of his life and experiences with the circus. But when the boys approached the subject of treasure-hunting he became wary at once, and they could extract little information from him. They were afraid to persist, lest they arouse his suspicions. This was the last thing in the world they wanted to happen, for the idea of sunken treasure had now taken possession of their minds, and if Takyak really knew where any was located, they were full of hope to get a share of it.

The prospects did not appear very bright, however, and more than once Mouser took the opportunity to crow over the other three and remind them that he had “told them so.”

“Such a thing as sunken gold and pieces of eight and all that sort of thing would never happen to me,” he said one day. “If it rained soup, I’d be caught out with nothing but a fork. Besides, what would a treasure ship be doing up around the North Pole? It doesn’t sound plausible.”

“I don’t suppose any treasure ship ever came very far north on purpose,” said Fred, sarcastically. “There’s always a chance that it might have been blown up in a storm, though. Stranger things than that have happened.”

“Yes, but not often,” retorted his gloomy friend. “I’d give my share in the loot to be sitting back on the old porch at home, eating real honest-to-goodness crullers and enjoying life, instead of staggering around the north Atlantic in this forsaken apology for a ship.”

“Oh, you’ll feel mighty different when you get your pockets full of nice, chinking, yellow gold,” grinned Bobby. “You won’t wish then that you hadn’t been let in for this involuntary ocean voyage. Look at the bright side of it, and maybe you’ll feel less doleful. You go around looking as though you’d lost your last friend.”

But Bobby was far from feeling as much confidence as he professed to have. So far they had little to go on save guesswork and the few chance words of the old Eskimo, which might have been little more than a product of his imagination. It might be as Mouser said, that the ship was only going North on a trading cruise, and the old Eskimo, homesick for his own country, had taken passage because it happened to be the first vessel that he could get passage on. But if that were the case, why should the old Eskimo look so suspicious when they mentioned treasure to him, and refuse to say a word on the subject? And what had he and Captain Garish talked about so earnestly that day at the circus?

These and many other questions and surmises sufficed to keep him on the anxious seat. And in addition to this, was the thought of those at home who would have not the slightest knowledge of what had happened to their boys and must have given them up for lost by this time.

They had already learned that the schooner was not equipped with wireless and that they were sailing out of the beaten track of ocean-going vessels. Occasionally a sail was sighted, but so far away that signaling was practically out of the question.

“Guess the captain doesn’t want to signal anyway,” said Fred moodily. “He is short of hands, you know, and we’ll fit in very nicely.”

“And maybe without pay,” added Mouser.

All these things combined to make the boys unhappy, and in spite of many amusing and exciting happenings on board ship, they could not be said to enjoy the cruise much.

The weather was uniformly good, and the boys were on deck most of the time. They struck up an acquaintance with various members of the crew, and many were the yarns they listened to in the off watches while the men sat about on hatch covers and coils of rope, mending or scrubbing their clothes, or perhaps just idly drawing at blackened old pipes. They had a good deal of fun, too, with Mose, the black mess boy, who was always in good spirits and who never grew seasick, no matter how rough the ocean became.

“Ah’s a salty niggah, white boys, an’ dey ain’t no sea ebber rolled dat could make me sick,” he used to boast. “De on’y thing whut it does to me is to give me an appetite. Yessuh, Ah nebber eats quite so heartily as when de old ship is standin’ on her beam ends an’ doin’ her best to dive down to Davy Jones’ locker. Mos’ times Ah kin do justice to mah meals, but it’s den dat Ah really comes out strong an’ packs away de victuals.”

He would come from the galley with a load of dishes on each arm, balancing himself on the heaving deck with all the skill and precision of a tightrope walker, and for a long time the boys never saw him meet with an accident.

But one day there was a heavy cross swell running. The ship rolled and pitched and apparently did everything except actually roll over. By this time the boys had gotten their sea legs, however, and they were seated about the table in the cabin, waiting for breakfast. A steep flight of steps led down to it from the deck, and in due course of time the boys saw the negro’s ungainly flat feet start down the ladder. On one arm he carried a big dish of oatmeal and on the other a pile of plates. This was no more than his usual load, with which he had made the descent many times before without mishap. But this morning luck was against him. He had hardly gotten down three steps, when the ship gave an unusually heavy roll, which suddenly changed to a pitch as the bows slanted steeply downward.

Mose struggled manfully to keep his balance, but it was of no use. He felt himself going, but it was impossible for him to catch hold of anything without dropping the dishes he was carrying. For a few seconds he gyrated wildly, while the boys held their breath. Then down he came flat on the deck, while the big dish of oatmeal went flying through the air and landed against the bulkhead with a crash.

Soft, clinging oatmeal seemed to fill the air for a few seconds, and everything in the cabin, including the boys, was liberally sprinkled. The pile of dishes smashed into a thousand fragments, and the havoc wrought was terrible to see.

At first the boys were afraid that the negro was seriously injured, but before they could get to him he was on his feet, looking very sheepish but apparently none the worse for the accident. When the boys saw that he was not hurt they broke into roars of laughter.

“Wow!” cried Billy, with tears running down his cheeks. “I thought you were so salty that nothing could ever knock you off your feet, Mose. Guess you’d better go easy with that stuff after this.”

“De ole boat sho’ slipped one ober on me dat time. But it cain’t nebber do it no mo,” declared Mose. “Hopes de captain doan come down befo’ Ah has a chance to clean up dis mess. If he ketches me, dis niggah’ll sho’ be out o’ luck.”

He set desperately to work, and in an incredibly short time had scraped the oatmeal off the floor and furniture and had the cabin tidied up. Then he went to get some more food, and this time met with better success.

Such incidents as this lightened the monotony of the voyage but still the days seemed very long to the boys, and more than once they longed for the time when they could get even with Hen Lemming for playing them such a sorry trick.

They often helped the sailors, but were not considered as regular hands. They had a long talk with Captain Garrish and promised to pay him well if he could only put them on some ship bound for home. But so far no such vessel had come their way.

“That captain’s a queer stick,” said Fred to Bobby, one morning. “And he’s got something on his mind, too.”

“Well, maybe we’ll find out what it is some day,” replied Bobby.

And he did find out, and the finding out changed the whole course of Captain Garrish’s conduct toward the Rockledge chums.

Bobby had wandered up into the bow one day and had seated himself on the deck, with his back resting against a huge coil of rope. The motion of the vessel had almost lulled him to sleep when he was abruptly brought back to consciousness by voices near him. They belonged to Captain Garrish and to Takyak, who were deep in a heated debate.

“You’ve got to give me the map, I tell you!” exclaimed the former, in an angry voice. “At least, you’ve got to let me look at it and give me a chance to get my bearings. I’ve steered the course you gave me long enough in the dark, and now I want proof that I’m not on a wild-goose chase.”

The Eskimo spoke a broken kind of English that it was almost impossible for any one not acquainted with him to understand. But Bobby caught the drift of his garbled talk well enough. He admitted that he had a chart of some kind, and Bobby made out the words “gold” and “wreck.” But it seemed that the old fellow did not have any too much confidence in Captain Garrish, and refused to let him see the map until they were among his own people. He clung stubbornly to this idea, and all the captain could say seemed to have no effect on him. At length Captain Garrish seemed to give up the argument for the time being.

“Well, I suppose there’s no use talking to you any more!” he exclaimed viciously. “It seems impossible to change that mule’s head of yours, so I suppose I’ll have to await your convenience. But if you’ve been deceiving me about this treasure ship, look out for yourself when I find it out, that’s all.”

Takyak protested vehemently that he was telling the truth, and at length seemed to convince the captain.

“Well, well, have it your own way,” Captain Garrish exclaimed impatiently. “I’m going to have a look at that new anchor while I’m here,” and he brushed past the Eskimo and the next moment had discovered Bobby.

His face darkened with sudden suspicion and anger, and Bobby leaped to his feet, believing that the captain was about to attack him.

“Were you spying on us, Bobby Blake?” he inquired in a hard voice. “I know you were!” he exclaimed, before Bobby could say a word in his own defense. “How much did you hear? Come now, out with it!”

“Well, I heard about everything you said,” admitted Bobby, with no attempt to wriggle out of his unpleasant position. “I heard you talking about some kind of a treasure ship. But that’s no more than Takyak hinted to us himself a long time ago. I wasn’t spying on you, anyway. I was dozing here, and your voices woke me up. How could I know that you two would be talking over a secret in this part of the ship?”

The captain seemed half convinced, but he still regarded Bobby with a look of sullen suspicion.

“The damage is done, now, and there’s no use crying over it,” he said at length. “How much of this do your friends suspect?”

“Pretty near the whole thing,” said Bobby, frankly. “Although, of course, it’s only been guesswork up to now,” he added.

“Well, I don’t want a word of this to get to the crew,” went on the captain. “If they once got the idea in their heads that we were after treasure, there’s no telling what they might do. Tell your friends to keep their own counsel, and see that you do the same. If word of it gets about, I’ll know where to place the blame.”

“You can be sure we won’t say anything about it,” answered Bobby. “Don’t forget we’re not on this boat because we want to be. We’d be only too happy if you’d put us on some homeward-bound vessel.”

“Well, maybe I will,” said Captain Garrish, but in his heart he had now no such intention. He had meant to before, as he was anxious to have the boys off his vessel, but now he resolved to keep them aboard at all costs. If he let them go, they might tell others of the treasure, and he knew how quickly such news flies about. When Bobby learned the secret, the last chance that he and his friends had of getting back home disappeared, although neither he nor they realized it at the time.

The old Eskimo, now that they had learned something of his secret, became more friendly and even gave them details of the information that he claimed to possess. He told them that there was a vessel stranded on the shore of his northland country and that from it his people got gold for ornaments and for use at the trading stations.

They had no idea of its real value, however, nor had he had until he ventured into the land of the white man. Here he had come to learn the immense value of the gold that lay practically useless in his far northern homeland, and he had conceived the idea of getting up an expedition and going in search of it.

In some way Takyak had become acquainted with Captain Garrish, and eventually had interested him in the quest, although he very wisely refused to give the exact location of the wreck, having a shrewd suspicion that the captain might help himself to the treasure if he could. So now they were bound in quest of it.

But of more than of the treasure itself was the old Eskimo in quest of. He was desirous of seeing his home country once more. To the boys the barren northland wastes seemed to present little attraction, but with the Eskimo it was different, and his eyes held a faraway, wistful look when he spoke in his queer jargon of home and people. From him the boys learned that the treasure ship was very old and had been lying on the sand before the memory of the oldest man in the tribe.

The boys became excited as he described the wealth that lay within the weather-beaten hulk, but even should the expedition be successful, they saw little chance of obtaining any of the gold for themselves, and their longing to be home increased day by day. They resolved many wild schemes of escape in their minds and resolved to be on the lookout for any opportunity for getting away that might present itself.

This feeling was lashed almost into a passion by the roughness that Captain Garrish began to manifest toward them soon after he knew that they possessed his secret. He grew increasingly surly and ugly, and soon drove them to tasks far beyond their strength. Blows had not come yet, but there was no telling when they, too, might be added to the burdens the lads were bearing.

The situation grew worse, and it finally reached the place where the four boys were given almost no chance to talk together. As Captain Garrish had said, it was true that the ship was desperately short of hands, and the boys were kept busy day and night—with short intervals for rest, of course—at unaccustomed tasks that wore blisters on their hands and severely tested their patience and nerve.

“You boys are too much together—you waste too much time in talking,” snarled the captain one day. “You’ll keep apart after this.”

He had them separated when they turned in also, giving them berths that were far apart in the forecastle. Evidently, in his strange way, he was growing more suspicious of them and of Chief Takyak every day. Possibly he imagined the chief was telling them more than was desirable concerning the quest for treasure.

Fred it was who chafed most under the restraint, and Bobby was continually worried for fear he would do or say something that would rouse the captain’s slumbering wrath. Their only chance, so thought Bobby, was, by a show of meekness and docility, to fool the captain into thinking there was no longer any need for watching them closely.

Then, when the captain’s attention was temporarily elsewhere, they would make a break for freedom.

It was with this end in view that Bobby finally managed to get a word alone with Fred. It was about twelve o’clock on a dark and stormy night when Bobby crept like a shadow along the rail, holding fast to this support to keep from being thrown to the deck by the swaying, heaving motion of the ship.

That morning he had whispered to Fred when they happened to pass close to each other on the deck. At that moment the captain’s back had been turned to them, although he was in sight.

“Twelve o’clock—port side—near the stern,” was all that Bobby had had time to whisper, but by a slight nod of his head Fred had shown that he understood.

That night, when both were supposed to be fast asleep in their hammocks, they would slip out noiselessly, trusting to luck that no one would see them and that they might be able to get in a few words together without discovery.

They must not be discovered. That, each knew without argument. For discovery would mean that Captain Garrish would be put still more upon his guard. They would be separated for good, perhaps flung into prison, perhaps— But Bobby did not think any further than that. He only knew that they must not be discovered.

So now, silently and cautiously, two figures crept along the deck to meet at “the stern of the ship, port side.”

Once Bobby thought he saw a darker shadow detach itself from the shadows about the pilot house, and he stopped still, his heart hammering loudly, scarcely daring to breathe.

When nothing startling happened, however, he decided he must have been mistaken and moved on again, more cautiously than before.

Then, still clinging to the rail, he descried another figure coming toward him, and the height and bulk of it and something in the walk told him it was Fred.

He was close to it. He reached out his hand and touched another hand. It was Fred, all right—no mistaking that hearty squeeze.

“We may only have a minute or two before somebody comes along,” said Bobby hurriedly, forced to raise his voice a little to make it heard above the roaring of the wind. “So let’s get down to brass tacks.”

“Righto!” agreed Fred, crowding close to him against the rail. “You’ve got a plan, Bobby! I thought I read it in your eye this morning.”

For the moment, forgetting the danger of their position, Bobby grinned in the darkness. Same old Fred, he thought, light-hearted even in such circumstances!

“Listen,” he said quickly. “I haven’t any plan—not yet. But I will have soon,” he added, as a sound of dismay broke from Fred. “What I wanted to do was to get word to you and the other fellows that the best thing we can do just now is to lie low and pretend to be as meek as Moses. Captain Garrish—”

“Bad luck to him!” growled Fred, and Bobby saw his fist clench on the rail.

“Is watching us—”

“So I’ve noticed,” again interrupted Fred.

“Say!” came from Bobby impatiently, “if you know what’s good for you, you’ll let me say what I have to say so that we can get back to our bunks before somebody smells us out.”

“Oh, all right, all right,” said Fred contritely. “Go ahead, Bobby.”

Bobby wasted no time, but went ahead, glancing about him meanwhile apprehensively. Any moment he expected to see Captain Garrish walk out from the shadows and nab them.

“If we can make the captain think we’re harmless,” he said to Fred, “he may stop watching us so closely and we’ll have our chance. I don’t know yet how we’re going to manage it, but we’re going to escape from this old tub somehow! We’ve got to! Our folks must be crazy with fright.”

“All right, I get you,” returned Fred. “You’re afraid my red-headed temper will start a row somewhere and spoil our chances to get away. But you needn’t worry, I’ll keep the lid on tight.”

“Fine,” gasped Bobby, as a sudden lunge of the ship picked up a huge wave and both of them were covered with icy spray. “We’ll have to find some way to pass the tip on to Billy and Mouser. They’re apt to go off the handle any time when the captain gets rough.”

“We’ll manage somehow,” said Fred between chattering teeth. “Say, but that old ocean is getting chilly. Hate to be thrown overboard into that ice water. Where do you suppose we are, Bobby?”

“Don’t know,” said Bobby, finding that he also was shivering. “Getting pretty far up north, I guess. Shouldn’t wonder but we’ll run across some icebergs if we don’t get out of this mess pretty soon.”

“Always wanted to see icebergs,” said Fred.

“Funny I don’t seem to care much about ’em any more.”

“It would be funnier if you did,” retorted Bobby, and then another sharp twist of the ship threatened their balance and drenched them through with icy water.

When they had once more regained their footing on the slippery, rolling deck, Bobby pressed close to Fred, grasping his arm urgently.

“We’ve got to get back now,” he chattered. “But let’s meet the same way to-morrow night. We’ll try to slip the hint to Billy and Mouser and have them here, too. If we’ve gotten away with it to-night, we may be able to again.”

“Righto!” agreed Fred.

“And in the meantime,” added Bobby hurriedly, “we’ll do our best to think up some way of escape. If we get too far into the Frozen North it will be mighty hard to get back to civilization. It looks impossible to get free, with nothing but this water about us, but impossible things have happened more than once. We’ve got to find a way!”

“I’ve got my thinking cap on,” announced Fred. “We’ll think up some way, sure enough.” With this they parted, returning as silently as they had come, and regained the safety of their hammocks without meeting with accident.

As Bobby, wet clothes and all—he did not dare take them off for fear of waking the other men—got into the hammock and drew the rough blanket up over him, he felt strangely happy and elated.

They had succeeded in eluding the captain’s vigilant eye this once, perhaps they could do it again. At any rate he had enlisted Fred’s help in his plan of throwing Captain Garrish off his guard, and that was the first big step toward their escape.

Some day they would give Captain Garrish and his muttering crew the slip for good and all. If he could only think of a way—if he could only think of a way—and with the words saying themselves over and over in his mind he finally fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

It seemed to him that he had not been sleeping five minutes, though in reality it had been that many hours, when he was roused rudely from his slumbers and hustled out on deck.

Sleepy-eyed, he stared about him.

It was a gray day; the storm clouds that had pursued them all the day before had not yet lifted and a fog hung low over the seething water.

Bobby forgot his temporary elation of the night before, when he had succeeded in talking to Fred. It was all very well to talk of getting away, he thought, as the coarse rope slipped through his roughened fingers. Talk was all very well. But how were they going to do it?

His gloomy mood was not lightened any by the fact that Captain Garrish watched him and the other boys more closely than usual and Bobby even thought he caught a hint of suspicion in the captain’s hard eyes.

Could it be, thought Bobby, that in some way the skipper had got wind of that secret meeting the night before? There had seemed to be no one about, but then, in the darkness of the night, how had it been possible to make sure of that? The night, especially on shipboard, seems possessed of a thousand eyes.

Could it be, and the thought made him pause for a moment in his work, at which the captain barked a rough command at him, that the shadow he had seen close to the pilot house was no shadow at all, but a man, perhaps Captain Garrish himself, spying upon him?

He stole a glance at the latter and found the skipper’s fierce eyes fixed on him with that same suspicious glare. Bobby’s own eyes dropped to the deck, but his hands clenched angrily.

“I’ll show him—” he thought fiercely, as he fought for a firmer footing on the slippery deck. “I’ll show him whether he can look at me like that and get away with it!”

As the morning wore on, Bobby realized that his fear of discovery by Captain Garrish was unfounded. The man continued to watch the boys closely, but if he had known of that secret meeting between him and Fred, the captain would have done more than watch—of that Bobby was certain.

This certainty once more served to raise Bobby’s spirits and made him hope that they might succeed in outwitting the grim old skipper after all.

He watched Fred and saw that the lad was doing his best to live up to the promise he had given the night before. Several times, beneath the gibe of a sailor or a sharp command from the captain, Fred’s face turned the color of a beet and he opened his mouth to speak. But he closed it again with a sharp click that showed he remembered his promise just in the nick of time.

Every time this happened, Bobby felt like clapping his hands. It was a great thing for Fred to do, he knew, and he was more than ever thankful for that brief talk the night before.

Once, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fred mumble something to Mouser, sidling up to him cautiously in the course of his work, and he saw Mouser’s quick glance of surprise and interest.

“Good old Fred,” thought Bobby. “He’s wasting no time in passing on the good word. Now, if we can only manage in some way to put Billy wise, all may be well. Just a few meetings of the four of us at that secret rendezvous, and we ought to be able to think up some plan of action.”

But how to pass the word on to Billy—that was the question. How to do it when Captain Garrish kept an eye on him, Bobby, almost every minute that he was on deck?

And when the captain himself was not on deck, there was always his faithful henchman, Rogers, the second mate, to take over the task of watching him.

“They seem to pick on me especially,” thought Bobby gloomily, after his third attempt to speak to Billy had met with no success. In fact, this last effort had been almost disastrous, for Mr. Rogers, the second mate, had very nearly caught him in the act.

“I don’t know why they should think I need special watching,” Bobby went on with his thoughts. “I certainly haven’t given them any trouble yet. Not yet!” he added, with a sudden gleam in his eye. “But soon!”

It would have to be soon, he reflected, as he gazed out over the great waste of waters. The ocean had begun to take on a glassy look; here and there a block of half-formed ice slithered sluggishly past them.

Bobby had read enough about the Frozen North, that great stretch of forbidding country, to know that, even if they did escape into it, they might be marooned in its ice-covered wastes indefinitely. It might be months before they could return to their own country. And meantime their folks would perhaps mourn them as dead.

Lashed on by the harsh voice of Mr. Rogers, Bobby once more fell to work at his uncongenial tasks.

On the last watch that afternoon when he had just about given up hope of getting a word with Billy, Bobby’s chance came suddenly and unexpectedly.

He found himself close to Billy and a quick glance about the deck showed him that at that moment neither the captain nor Mr. Rogers was on deck.

He leaned over and whispered, his voice hoarse with excitement and triumph!

“Twelve o’clock, stern, port,” and Billy flashed him a swift look that showed that he understood. He would have spoken too, but Bobby raised his hand in a gesture of warning.

“The captain,” he whispered, and then proceeded to put as much of the deck between him and Billy as he could before the captain’s grim gaze fastened on him again.

“Well, it’s done,” thought Bobby. “The four of us will meet to-night for a council of war, even though it be the last one we’ll ever have.”

They must take a chance of discovery. They had come to a point where desperate measures were necessary if they were to escape at all. They could never hope to get anywhere unless they took a chance.

If they could only escape that night! Bobby’s face tingled with the hot blood that rushed to it at the very thought. That night! But how?

There were the longboats. They might manage—the four of them—to get one free, lower it into the blackness of the night to the restless ocean. That they might do. But what then?

They had not the slightest idea where they were. They had no compass, nothing to guide them. And if they had had such an instrument, they would not know whether to head north, south, east or west, for they had no knowledge of the direction in which lay the nearest land.

And there was the problem of provisions and warmth. They must eat and keep warm. They could not set themselves adrift in an unprovisioned boat without suitable clothing and expect to live.

They might be picked up by some northern-bound steamer, that is true, but in this latitude and longitude such ships were rare. They could not afford to trust to luck.

But all during the endless hours Bobby could not drive the thought of the longboat from his mind. If they could provision it, find out in some way the location of the nearest shore. But how—how?

And then suddenly the answer was given him in a way that he could never have anticipated.

There were two Eskimos among the ship’s crew, and although at first the boys had studied them with natural curiosity, they had soon become accustomed to these black-haired, black-eyed, round-faced people of the North.

They were silent men and seldom joined in the wild songs and capering of the white men of the crew, but their silence was not morose. They seemed even friendly in a queer way, and Bobby had thought more than once that he had surprised in their dull, emotionless stare a look of real interest and sympathy.

This evening as, worn out by the hours of hard toil he had put in, Bobby was making his way slowly along the spray-washed deck, he was not altogether surprised to hear himself addressed by one of the Eskimos.

The man spoke guardedly and it was the tone he used, more than what he said, that startled Bobby.

“Come with me,” said the guttural voice close to his ear. “I have a message for you.”

In that minute Bobby did some rapid thinking. What if this man were leading him into some sort of a trap? Nothing, however, could be much worse than the present state of affairs. And it was barely possible that the man was friendly—that he would tell him something to his advantage—perhaps help him to escape.

He nodded and, turning, followed the man down the steep steps of the companionway.

To his surprise, he was not led aft to the quarters of the men, but forward in the general direction of the captain’s quarters.

Was it a trap, after all, then? He still had time to turn, to get out of it. But where could he go on this ship, he thought, where the captain could not find him and do what he would with him?

All this time they had been making their way swiftly forward, the Eskimo moving with surprising swiftness, considering his girth.

Once they heard steps coming toward them, and with a guttural exclamation the Eskimo motioned Bobby into the shadow of a doorway. There they both waited till the man went by.

The latter was tall and grizzled and there was a scowl on his face as though he were engrossed in none-too-pleasant thought. He passed so near that Bobby, by reaching out his hand, might have touched him. With an audible intake of breath, Bobby recognized the captain.

So his errand was not with the captain, after all.

More puzzled than ever and beginning to feel a tremendous excitement, he left his hiding place and once more followed the Eskimo.

They came to a door which the Eskimo opened without knocking, and the latter motioned Bobby into the room. It was a cabin, and rather a spacious one at that, possessed of all the necessary furnishings.

But only one article of furniture caught Bobby’s eye, and that was the bed. On the bed reposed a form that lay so still that Bobby at first thought it was dead. The next moment he saw that he was mistaken.

The Eskimo, going swiftly over to the bed, muttered something and the quiet figure moved suddenly, struggling to a sitting posture. The Eskimo put a hand beneath his shoulders, supporting him.

“Come here,” said the man in the bed to Bobby, and then, and only then, did Bobby recognize the Eskimo chief, Takyak.

As the lad obeyed the summons he was shocked at the change in the man. He was gray and emaciated and the hand he held out to Bobby shook.

“What’s the matter? What’s happened?” cried Bobby. “You look sick, Chief Takyak.”

Takyak nodded simply.

“I am dying,” he said.

The Eskimo who had led Bobby to the cabin made the sick man as comfortable as possible with pillows propped behind his back, then, at a sign from the latter, he turned and left the room.

Chief Takyak motioned Bobby to his side.

“Sit here, on the bed,” he commanded in his queer English. “I want you close. I have much to say and I must save my strength. I must hurry.” He said the last words in a chattering whisper and glanced fearfully at the closed door.

Bobby watched him with a mixture of pity, curiosity and excitement. He liked the old Eskimo and he also felt sure that it was through no desire of Takyak’s that he and his friends were treated so harshly on the ship.

“Any minute we may be interrupted,” went on the sick man, pressing a hand to his side as though suffering intolerably. “And I may die, too, and take my secret with me. Instead, I hope to give it to you.”

He drew in his breath sharply and Bobby saw a spasm of pain cross his white face.

“Take your time,” he urged. “If it hurts you to talk—”

“It is nothing,” the man interrupted in a husky voice, feebly waving an impatient hand. “It is my heart that makes the pain. Soon it will have a good long rest. It will stop forever. That’s why I must hurry. Listen”—he leaned closer and Bobby was conscious of a thrill of excitement as the old man’s face became tense—“you must save the treasure from the wrecked ship. You must keep it from Captain Garrish.” He paused, smothered a groan as another spasm of pain swept him.

“The treasure?” repeated Bobby excitedly. “You want me to save the treasure. But how?”

“Hush, hush. Do not raise your voice. They will hear you.”

The Eskimo was in a panic of fear, and despite his wild excitement and curiosity Bobby did his best to quiet him.

“Listen quietly. We have no time to lose,” cried Takyak, when he had become a little calmer. “That captain, that Garrish, has ears in the back of his head—yes, and in the front too, as well as at the sides. Hark! What was that?”

There was intense silence in the cabin while they listened, holding their breath. No sound came, and Bobby finally tiptoed over to the door, opening it gently.

The corridor was empty. The sick man was overwrought, had imagined he heard something.

Bobby hurried back to Chief Takyak, who motioned to him impatiently. His face was of a peculiar ashen hue and when he spoke his breath came in labored gasps.

“To-morrow,” he whispered, drawing the lad close to him, “at eleven o’clock, if all goes well, we shall be close to Baffin Land.” Takyak began to talk in gasps. “Get away—from boat—some way.” He paused and Bobby waited impatiently, eagerly, his eyes on the ghastly grayish face of the Eskimo.

The man seemed to struggle a moment with the pain, then, regaining a little strength, went on feverishly.

“Get provisions, steal longboat some way, turn bow of boat nor-east, right angles—ship—compass—have compass somewhere.”

He strove to lift himself, and Bobby, with an arm beneath the gaunt shoulders, helped him while he fumbled beneath his pillow.

He brought it forth triumphantly at last, an old compass, battered as to case, but in good working order.

“No lose it,” he cautioned, as Bobby slipped the precious instrument into his pocket.

“Now let me get this straight,” said Bobby quickly, speaking in a low tone. “You mean that if we boys can manage to get hold of a boat, provision her, and get clear of the ship at eleven o’clock to-morrow night, by keeping the bow headed steadily northeast we can reach land?” The old Eskimo nodded eagerly.

“Yes, yes,” he whispered. “It is not dangerous, except in a storm.”

“Never mind the danger,” answered Bobby. “You spoke of a treasure. After we reach shore—if we do—what do we do then?”

“Find the natives—ask them for Mooloo—they will know—will take you to him—” Again Takyak stopped short, his hand pressed hard against his side.

“You shouldn’t talk,” Bobby protested pityingly. “Rest now.”

But Takyak again shook his head, his brows knitting as though in anger.

“I have no time to rest—yet,” he gasped. “Mooloo is a guide. He knows me—is faithful to me. If you tell him— Wait, I will give you this.” Then Bobby noticed for the first time that this strange old man wore a thin gold chain about his neck. From the end of this he now detached a peculiar looking object resembling a tooth, which, as it proved, was exactly what it was—the tooth of an animal, peculiarly marked.

Takyak’s trembling hand sought Bobby’s, dropping the token in the palm of it.

“Walrus tooth,” he explained haltingly. “Mooloo will know it—will know you are friend of mine—will lead you to the wreck.”

“Yes?” cried Bobby, unable longer to restrain his eagerness. “The wreck where the treasure was hidden?”

Takyak regarded the boy for a moment, his eyes, still piercing in spite of the shadows of suffering in them, gazing directly into Bobby’s.

“Ah,” he said, “so you did overhear our talk about the treasure. I was sure of it. So was Captain Garrish—the rascal! The wretch!” His anger seemed to banish pain for a moment, and his face glowed with wrath.

“He tried to—to steal from me,” he cried, his trembling hand waving violently above his head. “He would have the treasure for himself! He would take my share, mine! And, but for me, Chief Takyak, he would never have known there was a treasure. The treasure is mine, mine! I alone know how to get it and I give the secret to you. You boys have all been kind to me. You are honest boys. And you saved my life when the circus pole fell. You must find the treasure and Garrish must not have it. You hear—none of it!”

“You needn’t worry,” said Bobby, with a bitter memory of harsh treatment at the hands of Captain Garrish. “You can bet I’d never be the one to give him anything.”

Then he looked at Takyak in alarm. After his fit of temper the man had collapsed, he seemed utterly exhausted. His gaunt form relaxed against the pillows and he panted for breath.

“Is there anything I can do?” cried Bobby, feeling helpless in the face of this emergency. “Shall I get somebody?”

Takyak shook his head, and with a faint motion of his hand indicated that he wanted Bobby to remain where he was. After a moment, during which he struggled with his breath, the old chief went on again.

“Mooloo will—take you to—the wrecked ship,” he said, his voice halting and sounding very weak and far away. “After that you will have to work alone.”

“Doesn’t Mooloo know anything about the treasure?” asked Bobby, and Takyak wearily shook his head. He seemed very weak, and for a moment leaned back among his pillows, apparently gathering strength for a last effort. Meanwhile Bobby’s thoughts were whirling madly. Sympathy for the stricken Takyak was mingled with a wild longing to be away from the cabin, to get by himself where he might think up plans for the great adventure before him and his chums.

He came out of his reverie to hear Takyak speaking again.

“You wonder why I tell you all this,” said the Eskimo, and Bobby nodded. “I have no family— I am alone. I like you and your friends,” Takyak went on. “And, besides, there is no one else on the ship that I trust. Garrish—you must never let Garrish know!”

At mention of the captain’s name it seemed as though both Takyak and Bobby were struck with the same thought.

The chief caught at his coat sleeve, tugging at it, nervously.

“You must go now,” he ordered, in a panicky whisper. “You must not be discovered here. Go—and may you—find the fortune and—live long to—enjoy it.”

The last words were uttered in a gasping whisper and at the conclusion of them Takyak sank back, weak and trembling and waved a shaking hand toward the door.

“Go,” he whispered urgently. “Go quickly.” Bobby started to obey, then came back again. He bent over Chief Takyak and firmly gripped the sick man’s hand.

“I’ll find the treasure if it’s possible,” he promised sturdily, adding, in a tone he tried to make encouraging: “But I’m betting that you will be a well man soon and ready to take your share of it.” To this Takyak only shook his head and waved his hand once more imperatively toward the door.

“No, no,” he whispered. “I am dying. I know it. Good-by—and—luck.”

With a mingling of emotions Bobby cautiously opened the cabin door and peered into the corridor. There was no one in sight and, realizing the danger of lingering even for a moment in that neighborhood, he ran at top speed toward the sailors’ quarters.

He could hardly credit the amazing thing that had just happened to him. He might even have thought he had dreamed it all if his hand, thrust into his pocket, had not felt the compass, the little instrument that was going to give him and his companions freedom, and the token.

“Easy there, Bobby, old boy,” he cautioned himself. “We’re a long way from being free yet.”

Once back in his own quarters, Bobby tried to quiet his racing thoughts and think out some plan of action. If only he might talk to Fred and the other boys!

Then he thought of that night and their secret rendezvous and his heart leaped with joy.

“Say, make believe I won’t have something to tell them! They’ll probably think I have been dreaming or am crazy,” he thought excitedly.

He had to caution himself again not to let his imagination run away with him. He had to be careful also not to let his excitement be seen by his mates. It seemed to him that they were already regarding him suspiciously.

He must be cool and calm if he and his chums were to stand any real chance of escape. “Steal a longboat,” Takyak had ordered. All very well, but how was such a thing to be done without being discovered?

“Provision it,” Takyak had said again. All very well, but how were they going to provision it without any provisions?

Well, that was his problem and his chums’, and they must find a way to solve it. And the solution must come very quickly, within the next twenty-four hours. At eleven o’clock on the next evening, Takyak had said.

What was the name of the place he had said they would be near? Baffin Land! He had heard of it, and he knew enough about its location to know that they were no longer approaching the Frozen North, but that they were actually in it.

Suppose Takyak’s information had been wrong? Suppose they should not pass close to Baffin Land on the following evening? Suppose—always supposing that they had been able to procure the longboat and provision it—suppose upon casting themselves adrift on the ocean they were to find that, after all, they were too far from land to reach it before being overtaken by any one of the terrible dangers that menaced them there in that unknown land?

Suppose—but with an impatient movement Bobby shook off the unwelcome thoughts that crowded his mind. If they were to embark on the adventure at all he must put all such doubts behind him.

There would be danger, of course, plenty of it, but not much more than if they remained here on this ship under the ugly eye of a suspicious captain.

Some way or other Bobby managed to get through the hours that had to pass before he could hope to meet his chums. When the time came at last he hurried, as fast as caution would permit, to the rendezvous.

He found two figures there before him. Fred and Mouser had evidently been more impatient than he.

When he saw Bobby, Fred opened his mouth to shout a greeting, but thought better of it just in the nick of time.

“I’ll spill the beans yet,” he said, in a sheepish whisper, and at that moment another silent figure approached them through the shadows.

It was Billy, excited and eager, and their number was complete.

“Now let’s get down to business, Bobby, and tell these fellows why we called a meeting,” suggested Fred.

“You’d better not talk so loud or we’ll be telling our story to Captain Garrish,” cautioned Bobby, and the boys glanced about them uneasily.

“I passed somebody on my way up here,” said Billy, in a whisper that could barely be heard.

“I don’t know who it was, but I had a notion that he followed me for some little way.”

“Then we haven’t any time to lose,” cried Bobby, and for the first time the boys noticed the suppressed excitement in his voice.

They crowded close to him, trying to see his face in the deep shadows of the northern night. There were plenty of questions they wanted to ask, but Bobby would give them no chance.

Rapidly, he told them what had happened in Chief Takyak’s cabin that afternoon, and they listened, open-mouthed, with wonder, hardly able to believe what he was telling them.

Then, when they really gathered what it meant, they wanted to toss their cape aloft and give vent to their glee.

It was Bobby who restrained their enthusiasm. “No use getting excited yet,” he said. “We haven’t escaped from this old vessel yet, you know.”

“We’ll have to now,” said Mouser, suddenly sobered. “It’s up to us to give old Garrish the slip to-morrow night.”

“It won’t be so hard to get the boat,” Fred observed. “We ought to be able to do that. But it’s getting the provisions that worries me. We’ve got to have food!”

“Tell us something we don’t know,” grumbled Mouser. “It’s easy to say we’ve got to get it—”

“And we will get it too,” Bobby interrupted decidedly. “I tell you, fellows,” he added excitedly, “what would be the matter with our getting busy now?”

“Great, if you’ll tell us what to do,” agreed Billy.

“Speedy action suits me down to the ground,” added Mouser, eagerly. “When do we start, Bobby?”

“Right now,” answered Bobby, his words tumbling over one another in his excitement. “See?” he added, lowering his voice still more and pointing over his shoulder toward the stern of the ship. “We’ll take that longboat over there when the time comes. Our job to-night will be to see that she’s provisioned. We’ll take enough food on board to last us a week if we need it.”

“Provision her,” Fred echoed excitedly. “I get you, Bobby. We can break into the hold and get what we need from those boxes—”

“But wait a minute,” Mouser broke in quickly. “If we provision the longboat now, what’s to prevent the food being discovered to-morrow?”

“I’ve thought of that,” said Bobby shortly. He was impatient of every moment’s delay. “But we’ll have to take our chance. We can stow most of the stuff away where it won’t be seen and we can cover the rest with the old tarpaulin I saw in the boat when I passed it to-day. What say? Are you coming or do you want to stand there all night arguing?”

Their answer was to follow Bobby’s lead as he crept silently along the deck to a hatchway they knew they could open.

It was a risky business, taking provisions from the hold at night, and the boys fully realized the risk they were running. But excitement made them forget danger.

They were in the midst of the adventure now and their blood answered to the thrill of it.

They worked swiftly, talking little. Not for nothing had they been kept prisoners in that hold, forced to live for days out of food taken from the boxes.

For the first time since they had been thrown into the place the boys began to be thankful for their experience. It certainly stood them in good stead now.

Scarcely need even for a light, though Bobby struck a match now and then when they couldn’t remember the exact location of something they wanted.

“What are we going to carry them all in?” asked Fred, coming close to Bobby. “I’ve got more than I can manage.”

“Here! Take this,” ordered Bobby briskly, and thrust something rough into his hands. “It’s an empty sack,” he explained. “Dump everything into it and we’ll sort the things out later.” In an amazingly short space of time the feat had been accomplished, the longboat was fully provisioned with ship’s biscuit, fresh water, and enough canned goods to keep them going for a long time if they were careful.

“Pretty neat, I call it,” whispered Billy exultantly. “Got by the watch without half trying. Say! What’s that?”

Some one was approaching slowly but steadily along the deck. They knew by his peculiar stride that it was the second mate.

The boys did not linger to greet him. A moment later they had disappeared, as completely as though the deck had opened and let them through.

It is safe to say that Bobby and his chums did not get very much sleep that night. The thought that they had a real chance of escape from the ship where they had been held prisoners meant more to them just then than the possibility of finding Takyak’s treasure trove.

As for Bobby, he hardly closed his eyes at all.

He wondered if they had not been foolish to provision the longboat that night. It would be just their luck to have the provisions discovered the next day, and then their chance would be gone.

They would be robbed of what little liberty they had enjoyed so far, and, once more prisoners, would have no hope of escape.

And even if they were successful in getting away from the ship, what then?

Tossing in his hammock, Bobby could hear the blocks of ice gritting against the sides of the vessel, hungrily, like some beast of prey waiting for its victim.

Even though, as Takyak had said, they would be near enough to shore on the following night to gain it in a few hours, what were their chances of getting through that ice-blocked water?

Even that day they had seen one or two large icebergs looming against the skyline.

Of course, the danger from these monsters of the sea would be very much less in the daytime than at night. For, in the darkness, how could they tell of the approach of one of these until it was almost upon them, too late, then, for them to get out of the way?

From these troubled thoughts Bobby’s mind went to Takyak, the dying Eskimo chief. Wasn’t it possible, he thought, that Takyak thought he was worse off than he actually was?

Suppose he should recover and repent of his confidence?

“Well,” thought Bobby, “in that case he shall have his treasure and we, at least, will try for liberty.” He hoped the Eskimo would recover. He was kind-hearted and had tried to put in a good word for them with Captain Garrish.

Garrish! At the name Bobby felt the same fierce rush of anger he had felt the day before when the captain had regarded him with that bullying look of suspicion.

How much did the captain suspect?

Well, if they had any sort of luck at all, they would soon put so much distance between themselves and the surly captain that what he thought or did not think would make no difference at all.

If they only had some warm clothing! They had been given top coats from the ship’s locker, but they were far too big for them. Rushed as they had been with work on deck, they had not been so conscious of the bitter cold. But in an open boat, with nothing to shield them from the fierce winds, they might be frozen to death.

Bobby shivered and thought of the snug fur coats worn by the Eskimo members of the crew. That was the only thing that could keep out the biting cold of the Northland—fur, and plenty of it.

“Oh, well, we’ll have to take our chance of freezing to death. That, after all, may be pleasanter than running into an iceberg,” he muttered, with a sigh.

And so, still listening to the grating of the ice against the sides of the ship, Bobby at last fell into a doze from which he was rudely roused a half hour later.

Once more he stumbled blindly to the deck, still more than half asleep and shivering with the cold.

Another gray day. Angry snow clouds scudded across the leaden sky, the wind whistled through the mastheads with a threatening sound, heavy ice blocked the sea, becoming thicker and thicker as they plowed further and further into the north.

Breakfast cheered Bobby a bit, and he was suddenly seized with an almost overwhelming curiosity to see if their secret of the longboat had been discovered yet.

It was some time before he found the chance to make his way to the spot unobserved, but when he finally got there he found to his intense relief that everything seemed just as it had the night before when they had fled before the approach of the second mate.

The extra tarpaulin, which he had replaced with careful carelessness in the bottom of the boat, looked just the same as it had the day before, when it had not hid their hope of escape.

Bobby went to work with renewed hope. The hours that stretched between him and dark seemed an endless procession, but he knew that the best way to make them pass quickly was to throw himself into the work at hand with all his heart.

This he did, to the apparent gratification of Captain Garrish. It seemed to Bobby that there was less suspicion in the eyes of the skipper when they turned his way.

Perhaps, he thought, with an inward grin, their quiet attitude of the last few days, as if they had become resigned to a hard fate, was having its effect at last. Captain Garrish was beginning to think them harmless.

The second mate watched them less intently too, and the boys took advantage of the fact to send wireless messages back and forth.

They were so full of excitement and eagerness to start on their adventure that Bobby wondered how the keen eyes of Captain Garrish could fail to notice it.

For one thing, and this Bobby did not know, the skipper had more important things to think about than the behavior of four boys on board his ship.

Takyak, upon whom he had depended to guide him to the scene of the wrecked ship and to use his influence with the natives in the business of recovering the treasure, was dying in his bed and, worse than that, he was dying with some of the most important details of the adventure still unknown to Captain Garrish.

Vainly the skipper had tried to cajole, and finally to force, the information from the lips of the dying man. The chief had refused to tell anything, and now he had fallen into a coma from which there was no rousing him.

No wonder Captain Garrish wore a dark and angry frown and failed to watch the boys as he had done. Lucky for the boys that on that day, of all days, the bullying captain had something besides themselves to think about.

All day Bobby’s thoughts were full of Takyak, wondering if the old fellow’s prophecy would prove true or if he were getting better.

It was not till near nightfall that he and the other boys learned the truth, and then in a peculiar way.

Shivering with cold and excitement they were descending the ladder to take a hard-earned rest when a roar that sounded like that of a mad bull let loose in a field of red flags reached their ears and made them stand still, gazing, bewildered, in the direction of the noise.

A moment later a door was pushed open as though with the tremendous impact of some heavy body behind it and Captain Garrish charged out, his face purple, his very beard bristling with rage.

As the boys still stood rooted to the spot they saw some one running toward the enraged captain and in a moment recognized Mr. Campbell, an aged man who acted as the ship’s doctor.

At sight of the latter the captain’s fury seemed to increase until he became a madman.

He sprang at the aged doctor, caught him by the throat and shook him as a terrier does a rat.

“You confounded rogue!” he bellowed. “What do you mean by double-crossing me? I told you if you let that greasy Eskimo die, it would be your last act on earth! Say your prayers, you—you—”

The unfortunate doctor was struggling against the huge hairy hands that were locked like an iron band about his throat, but his face was purple and his eyes bulged from his head.

The boys started forward, but at that moment the first and second mates, hearing the captain’s bellow of rage, had come running, and now they leaped upon him, forcing his hands loose of their hold upon Dr. Campbell.

In his rage he would have turned upon them, but they were both strong men and they held on grimly till he abandoned his struggles.

“You’re mad, Captain,” said the mate. “Let up.”

“I’ll fix him!” bellowed the captain, making another lunge at the unfortunate doctor, who was feeling gingerly of his injured throat. “Let me at him! Let me—”

But at this point, seeing that the two mates were amply able to handle the enraged captain and thinking that it was about time they left the scene, the boys crept away unnoticed.

Most of the men having run to see what was going on, the boys found themselves temporarily alone.

“Gee,” said Fred, his face a mixture of emotions. “Well, it’s all over with poor old Takyak.”

“Yes, and it was pretty near over with Doctor Campbell,” added Billy. “I’ll say that fellow had a close call.”

“I’m sorry for poor Takyak,” said Mouser thoughtfully. “But, just the same, it’s lucky for us this happened. It will keep the skipper’s attention from us for a little while, anyway.”

“Yes, but only for a little while,” Bobby reminded him. “As soon as he gets over raving about Takyak, he’ll begin to think of us and wonder if we know any more about the treasure than he does.”

“And when he does,” said Fred ruefully, “something tells me it will be all up with us.”

“The only thing we can do,” said Bobby hurriedly, for they could hear the heavy tramping of the sailors who were returning, “is to take a chance and start as soon after dark as we can. A few hours from now this old boat will be getting a little more unhealthy for us than it already is.”

“Righto,” agreed Fred cheerfully, and then they separated, but only until the welcome darkness gave them the secrecy they must have.

All about him Bobby heard the men talking about the captain’s outbreak, laughing hoarsely and cracking rough jokes at the skipper’s expense.

“Didn’t think the old man loved Takyak like that,” said one of them, in a mock-sentimental tone. “It’s enough to make a bloke cry ’is eyes out, so it is.”

And still later another man, a big rough fellow with a week’s growth of beard and smoldering, deep-set eyes, turned to glower at Bobby.

“If I wuz you, me lad—” he said, as he took a dirty-looking old pipe from his pocket—“if I wuz you, I’d cut loose from this outfit, so I would, at our first port. The skipper’s got it in for you good an’ plenty an’ the skipper’s a powerful mean man when he’s roused.”

“So,” retorted Bobby dryly, “I’ve noticed!” And then, with a thrill of excitement, he glanced out of a porthole and saw that it was dark.

Ten o’clock that night, and the boys were stealing silently to the spot where the longboat swung on creaking davits, rising and falling with the rise and fall of the ship.

At last they were together, teeth chattering with mingled excitement and cold, coat collars turned far up about their ears and caps pulled down to meet them. They had appropriated all the warm clothing they could find in the ship’s lockers.

They had learned in the course of their work on deck how to lower the boats and raise them, and, with scarcely a word uttered between them, they set to work.

In spite of the pressing need for haste and the biting cold that seemed to search out their very marrow, they accomplished the feat neatly, the boat landing with scarcely a splash in the water.

Once voices sounded close to them and they crouched close in the shadows of the deck-house till the voices passed on.

Then, recognizing more than ever the need for haste, they slid, with as little noise as possible, into the boat and cast her loose from the schooner.

As they moved away, out into the darkness, adrift at last, they heard a sudden exclamation, a quick call, and knew that the absence of the longboat had been discovered.

“Didn’t get away any too soon,” said Fred, trying hard to keep his teeth from chattering.

“We haven’t got away yet,” returned Bobby grimly. “Better not count our chickens till they’re hatched.”

“Do you think they’ll chase us?” asked Mouser.

“No telling,” returned Bobby. “But whether they do or not, the thing for us to do just now is to keep still and work.”

They did as he said, bending to the oars, grateful for work that would keep the blood circulating in their veins.

Bobby, precious compass at hand, directed their course, occasionally lighting a match to make sure they were keeping true to it.

And after a while, how long a time they had no way of knowing, they became sure they were safe from pursuit. There was no human sound in the dark, grim wastes about them, only the doleful rise and fall of the wind and the brittle scraping of the ice against the sides of their little boat.

“Well, I guess, fellows,” it was Bobby who broke the silence at last, “that we’ve done it all right. We’re free again, anyway.”

“Free!” repeated Fred. “Say, make believe that word doesn’t sound good to me!”

“I’ll say so,” agreed Mouser and Billy together, and for the moment all doubt of the future was forgotten in a wild feeling of elation.

Free, free! What did anything matter, now that they had broken away from Captain Garrish and his ship? They were free!

“All we have to do now,” cried Mouser jubilantly, “is to think about getting home.” Strangely enough, instead of cheering them, this thought put a sudden damper on their enthusiasm. Home! How unattainable and far away it seemed! What would any one of them give to be sitting now in a familiar room, before a glowing fire, with familiar faces surrounding him?

Their imaginations dwelt longest on the fire. “Say, just think of it! A crackling, joyful, leaping fire, in exchange for this deadly cold that threatens to freeze our very bones!” exclaimed Fred.

For a long time after this remark the boys were silent, working hard to fight off the feeling of drowsiness that was creeping upon them, blowing upon their gloved hands now and then to drive the numbness from them.

“Home was never like this,” said Billy at last, in a tone he tried hard to make cheerful.

“I never knew it could be so cold,” said Mouser. “I’ve read enough about it,” said Fred, adding, with an attempt to stretch his stiff mouth into a grin: “But it has to be seen to be appreciated.”

“Say,” said Bobby, putting out a match after another look at the compass, “what’s the matter with you, Billy? Can’t you give us a joke or something?”

“The last time I tried,” said Billy, wondering if his feet were still at the end of his legs—he could not tell, for there seemed to be no feeling in them whatever—“perhaps you remember that I was greeted with laughter and ridicule—a large amount of it.”

“That’s all right, Billy; you’re perfectly safe now,” said Fred. “Nobody could laugh at your rottenest attempt now. It can’t be done. I know—because I’ve tried.”

“Well, if you’re sure you want to hear one—” began Billy, and for once, as he hesitated, the other boys answered an enthusiastic affirmative. Bad as Billy’s jokes usually were, they would be welcome now—anything to make them forget, if even for a moment, how deadly cold they were.

“We-ell,” began Billy, between teeth that persisted in chattering, “a young poet—at least he thought he was a poet—paid a compliment to a girl with red hair one day when they were out walking together. She said she thought his poems were fine, but asked him if he knew the difference between them and her hair. He said he didn’t, but he’d like to. What do you suppose her answer was?”

“Don’t know,” said Mouser.

“Too c-cold to think,” chattered Fred.

“Go ahead—shoot,” ordered Bobby.

“Well,” said the proud and almost happy Billy, “she said, ‘the difference is that my hair’s red.’”

It took a minute for the pun to sink home, and then the boys groaned in unison.

“It’s cruel,” protested Fred. “And on a night like this, too!”

“I’d pitch him overboard,” said Mouser, “only I’m too tender-hearted. Say,” with a shiver, “doesn’t that water look cold?”

“It isn’t as cold as I am, I’ll bet,” said Billy, adding anxiously: “Say, Bobby, isn’t it about time we were getting to shore?”

“Not for a little while yet, I guess,” said Bobby, looking once more at the compass. “We’re keeping in the right direction, and if Takyak knew what he was talking about we ought to reach there before long.”

“If we last long enough,” added Fred dolefully.

In parts of their bodies they had absolutely no feeling, and again and again they were forced to fight off that insidious drowsiness that crept upon them like a thief in the dark.

They knew, for they had read enough about persons dying from exposure, that once they succumbed to the desire for sleep it would be all over for them.

They must keep going, keep their muscles active and the blood circulating in their veins. Some way they must keep their heavy eyes open.

And then suddenly it seemed to them as though things had changed, the waves, the very air seemed different, charged with a new menace.

As though driven by a common thought they looked upward at the sky—and felt snow flakes on their faces!

Snowing! They were running headfirst into a storm—one of those terrific arctic blizzards, perhaps. It was not imagination, either, that made them think the waves were higher, that the wind was rising.

One incoming, ice-laden comber struck the side of their boat, listing it crazily to starboard. There was a sharp cry from Bobby—a cry of such utter surprise and dismay that it made the hearts of his hearers stand still.

“The compass!” shouted Bobby, above the rising wind. “I’ve lost it overboard! It’s gone!”

This last dire calamity struck the boys speechless.

The compass—their one sure guide on that sinister waste of waters, the one hand reached out to draw them to safety—the compass was gone!

At first they refused to believe it. The others besieged Bobby with questions, begging him to look—couldn’t it, perhaps, have fallen in the bottom of the boat? Oh, look! Look!

And Bobby looked, even though he knew the search was hopeless, looked just to satisfy his chums.

For, at that sudden sharp lurch of the boat, he had felt the instrument slip past his hands, had heard the splash of it as it reached the water.

That was a fine trick he and his carelessness had played upon his comrades, he thought miserably, as, recklessly lighting match after match from their slender store, he pretended to search the bottom of the boat. Through his carelessness they might all lose their lives.

It was his fault—his! He would be a murderer! But suddenly he drew himself up short and once more took command of the situation.

“It’s gone, fellows,” he said quietly. “There’s not a doubt in the world about that. Now, the question is, are we going to take our chance and go ahead without it, or are we going to lie down and say we’re beaten?”

“You know we aren’t going to do that, Bobby,” answered Fred sturdily. But the next moment he asked with an anxiety that showed the state of his mind: “You’re dead sure, are you, that you heard it go overboard, Bobby?”

But Bobby was too intently trying to think how they would meet this new and appalling difficulty even to hear the question. As for Mouser and Billy, they seemed stunned into silence.

“I tell you what we’ll have to do,” said Bobby at last. “We know now that we’re heading in the right direction, and we’ll have to keep that course as nearly as we can—and have to leave the rest to luck.”

“Luck’s been with us, so far,” said Fred, stoutly. “Maybe she’ll go with us the rest of the way.”

“We might have had a chance,” said Billy, as though thinking aloud, “if this storm hadn’t happened along. Say, how I love the sight of that snow!”

“Cheer up,” said Mouser. “The Eskimos like the snow, you know. Say it’s nice and w-warm. Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise.”

“Pretty good disguise, I call it,” grumbled Fred, and the boys tried to laugh and couldn’t. Their faces seemed frozen into expressionless masks.

They kept on without very much hope in their hearts, while the sea became more agitated, the wind rose higher and grew more menacing, while the snow, falling heavily, seemed to enclose them in a heavy white blanket. They felt cut off from all the world and utterly lost.

At last they came to the point where they knew if they did not have help soon, it would not be very long before they would have no need of it.

“Let’s try shouting,” said Bobby, in desperation. “There’s probably nobody within several hundred miles to hear us, but it’s about our last chance, I guess.”

He let out a yell that jerked the other boys from the lassitude that held them in its grip. Mechanically they shouted, too, with all the strength that was left them.

Then, as though the sound of their voices had revived some small hope, they shouted again and again, shouted until they were hoarse and their throats ached with the strain.

And still nothing but the pounding of the waves that threatened every moment to upset their boat, pitching them into the icy water! No sound but the moaning of the wind! Nothing but that driving curtain of snow that beat into their frozen faces, blinding them!

“Let’s try again,” croaked Bobby. “Once more, fellows. It’s a forlorn hope. But, come on. All together!”

Listlessly they went through the motion of a shout, queer noises coming from their cracked lips. And then—

“Listen!” cried Bobby, with a fierce joy in his voice. “Listen!”

From afar, piercing that curtain of snow, there came a sound, the faintest kind of sound, but one that started their hearts to bounding madly. It was a faint halloo—an answer to their frantic shouts.

And did they reply? Did they? Indeed, they did!

A moment before they had thought it was impossible for them to make another sound, but it did not take them long to find out their mistake. Frantically they yelled, growing more and more excited as that answering cry rang out again and again. Not so faint now and growing louder with each frenzied second.

Then they saw it! A dreamlike, slender craft, penetrating the curtain of snow, having as her crew two fur-garbed figures who stared at them stolidly!

They came as close to the longboat as the restless sea allowed, but although Bobby shouted at the top of his lungs it was evident that they could not understand him.

However, they pointed through the snow curtain and made motions which the joy-frenzied boys in the longboat perfectly understood.

They were motioning to them to follow—to follow that slender, unstable craft to the safety of the shore. For they knew that the shore could not be far off or the natives would not have come abroad to answer their desperate cries for help.

It was in a surprisingly short space of time—the boys learned afterward that they had been near land for some time, but had been going parallel with it—that their boat, reaching shallow water, stuck upon the sea bed, refusing to go farther.

There was nothing to do but brave the icy water and wade to shore. But the boys did not mind. They did not care for anything but the fact that they saw land. And, besides, as by that time they were about as cold as they could be, they thought the icy water could make little difference.

What bothered them most was the difficulty they found in walking. Their feet, numbed by the cold and the lack of use, refused at first to support them.

Forcing themselves by sheer will power to stand, they stumbled along through the icy water, feeling as though their feet were overstuffed pin cushions.

Bobby and Fred were the only ones who had had presence of mind enough in this moment of rescue to catch hold of the rope attached to the longboat and tug the latter along toward the shore.

One of the natives, seeing what hard work this was for them, caught hold of the rope and with a couple of good hard pulls drew it up to safety on the snow and ice-encrusted ground.

Bobby tried to thank him, but found he was shivering so with the cold that he could not force the words through his chattering teeth.

The Eskimo seemed to understand his intention, however, and with a jerky nod of his fur-capped head and a grunt, indicated that the half-frozen lads were to follow him.

The latter, not yet quite realizing the greatness of their good fortune, stumbled through the blinding snow, their numbed feet still torturing them.

Where were the natives leading them? Perhaps to a fire and comfort, perhaps to captivity and new hardships. At any rate, wherever they were bound seemed a terribly long distance away.

But at last they came to a white object, looming solidly against the background of the densely falling snow. On approaching more closely to it the boys found it was a wall, apparently built of snow, about five feet high and circular in shape.

They wondered if this were some sort of a snow prison. Then they had reached a narrow opening in the snow wall, just large enough to permit them to squeeze through it.

They had tramped along but a few feet when they came upon the most peculiar looking structure they had ever seen in their lives.

It was an igloo, a snow hut of the type that is so common among the far reaches of the Northern country. To the surprised eyes of the boys it looked enormous, and the gleaming white sides of it made it look like a fairy dwelling.

Then one of the natives who preceded them pushed aside a huge skin which covered the entrance of this queer dwelling and the boys found themselves in a room whose snug warmth enwrapped them deliciously.

Never before had they reveled in anything as they did in that moment of physical comfort. For the space of a few seconds it was all they could think of. They just stood there, basking in it.

Then they realized that it was not only unbelievably warm and comfortable in that place, but there was a most delicious smell in the air, the aroma of stew, bubbling over a fire.

They sniffed longingly, and then, as though roused from a trance, they looked about them. The walls of the snow house were covered with skins which, while serving to make the place still more snug, served also to give it a more cozy, homelike appearance.

There were rude pieces of furniture scattered about on which also were skins, and before the oil stove at one side of the room crouched a woman, stirring the stew which bubbled over the fire.

And, seeing that the boys were staring at her, this guardian of the feast opened her mouth to favor them with a wide, good-natured grin.

“Come close to the fire,” she invited. “You cold—maybe you hungry, too. Stew very good—very hot.”

Never would the boys forget the music of those words—or the taste of that stew.

While they flung off the snow-covered great coats taken from the locker of Captain Garrish’s ship, the Eskimo woman ladled up great bowls full of the steaming stew and the two natives who had led them to the place brought low stools up to the fire and joined them in their feast.

And what a feast it was! The boys came back for a third helping of stew, and still there seemed to be an unlimited supply in the great black pot.

And delicious! Never before had they tasted anything quite to compare with it.

They asked what it was made of and the Eskimos with broad grins of delight at their enjoyment replied in broken English that it was made of the flesh of the polar bear.

“Polar bear!” cried Fred, pausing with a spoon filled to overflowing with stew, half raised to his mouth. “Great Scott! do you have many of them around here?”

One of the Eskimos shook his head sadly.

“Not so many we like,” he said. “They go furder an’ furder north all time.”

Fred looked disappointed.

“Tough luck,” he said. “I was hoping we might have a friendly little row with one of them while we were in this neighborhood.”

“Cheer up,” said Bobby, happily digging into his third dish of stew. “After the luck we had to-night anything good may happen to us.”

“Well,” broke in Billy, with a comical look of alarm, “if you call coming to grips with a polar bear good luck, I’d like to know your idea of bad luck!”

“Listen at him!” mourned Mouser.

“And after he knows what good stew they make, too,” added Fred.

“Oh, I’ve nothing against the stew—” began Billy, at which Bobby broke in with a grin: “We’ve noticed that.” He then turned to the Eskimo who sat nearest him. “We’re looking for a man named Mooloo,” he said eagerly. “Do you know him?”

The Eskimo grunted and nodded his head. He was feeling too comfortable and full of stew to be loquacious.

“I know heem,” he said. “Heem good feller.”

Bobby felt like clapping the stolid native joyfully on the back at this unexpected good fortune. But with a great effort he stifled his enthusiasm, seeing that Billy and Fred and Mouser were also trying to conceal their eagerness.

During the course of the conversation, carried on very brokenly by the Eskimos, the boys found out that they had learned English at a trading station many miles away—a station at which ships occasionally stopped for furs and for live specimens of seals and polar bears.

It would never do to let the natives guess at the boys’ real reason for wanting to find Mooloo. They might be thoroughly good fellows, but it was very doubtful whether they could be trusted with news of the treasure.

At thought of it Bobby felt still more exhilarated, triumphant. They had successfully accomplished the first and, probably, the most difficult stage of their adventure.

Their escape from the ship had succeeded beyond their wildest dreams. Now, if they proceeded carefully there was no reason why they should not succeed in the second phase of the adventure—the finding of Chief Takyak’s treasure.

He wanted to question the Eskimo and try to find out, if he could, if he, as well as the guide Mooloo, knew the location of the wrecked treasure ship.

But caution made him hold his tongue, merely getting from the Eskimo his promise to lead him to Mooloo on the following day.

“If the storm do not keep us here,” the native had added, with a sage wag of his head. “Blizzard maybe. No can leave igloo four, five days—maybe longer.”

At his words the boys looked at each other in dismay. Delay was what they wanted least. Up to that moment they had not thought of the storm as possibly delaying their treasure hunt for days, perhaps indefinitely.

And, then, there was the thought of those at home who had no means of knowing what had become of their boys. If they could not get word south very soon their people would be forced to give them up as lost.

This consideration kept them silent and thoughtful until the Eskimos rose sluggishly to their feet and began moving about the place as though they were preparing to leave.

This brought home to the boys the fact that they also had no place to spend the night and they also got to their feet, looking rather questioningly and dubiously at the natives.

It was the woman who came to their rescue with her friendly wide-mouthed grin.

“You no go out in blizzard,” she said, with a wave of her pudgy hand toward the out-of-doors. “You die. You stay here in igloo—safe, warm, eh?”

“But you? How about you?” stammered Bobby. “Where will you go?”

The woman shrugged her fat shoulders as she wrapped herself in a heavy fur coat and pulled a seal hood down over her ears so that only her eyes and nose and mouth were visible.

“You no worry ’bout us,” she said comfortably. “We all right. We got other igloo—two or three. We no die in snow.”

And with another friendly grin she turned and left the snow house, followed by the two men, who merely grunted their good-byes.

“Well, I’ll be jiggered!” cried Fred explosively. “Who says the Eskimo is an unfriendly beggar, I’d like to know! From this time on, if anybody says anything to me against an Eskimo, I’ll show him where he gets off, all right.”

“Giving us our dinner for nothing and then giving up their house for the night to a bunch of strangers!” marveled Mouser. “Well, I’ll say they’re regular sports, all right.”

“You bet,” said Billy. “How do they know we’re not a bunch of crooks?”

“Mouser, I’m surprised at you,” said Fred gravely. “All they have to do is look at us to tell we’re honest. Where are you going, Bobby?”

For Bobby had turned toward the door and brushed away the skins that covered it.

“Going to have a look at that blizzard,” he answered, “to see what our prospects are for to-morrow.”

The other boys followed him, but they were met by a driving gust of wind and snow that drove them back to the shelter of the igloo again.

“Some storm!” whistled Bobby, as they instinctively moved over to the stove where the fire was still hot. “Hate to be adrift in it without a home to-night, fellows.”

“But that’s just where we were only a few hours ago,” Mouser reminded him soberly. “We couldn’t have lasted much longer in that open boat.”

“Forget it, can’t you?” protested Fred uncomfortably. “Just the memory of it makes me cold. Say, this fire feels good.”

“Wonder what dear old Captain Garrish is doing just now,” said Bobby dreamily, as they toasted their feet and hands over the grateful warmth of the stove.

“Better wonder what he’s saying,” chuckled Billy. “I bet he hasn’t any vocabulary left.”

“We sure left just in the nick of time, too,” remarked Fred thoughtfully. “I bet he was cooking up a way of making us tell what we knew.”

“Shouldn’t wonder,” said Bobby, and then told them what the hairy-faced giant on the ship had advised him to do.

The boys were intensely interested.

“Even the men knew Garrish had it in for us,” Bobby continued, adding with a chuckle: “But I bet this particular man didn’t expect us to take his advice and ‘beat it’ quite so quickly.”

“We’d probably be in prison now in the hold, eating hardtack out of the boxes to keep from starving,” said Mouser, and they looked at him reproachfully.

“Why remind us of such unpleasant things?” protested Billy, but Bobby came to Mouser’s defense.

“As far as I’m concerned,” he said, “I don’t mind a bit thinking about where we might be now. It makes this place seem even better by comparison. Say, fellows, did you ever dream a house made of snow could be so comfortable?”

“It sure beats me,” agreed Fred, beginning to wander about the room, examining the skins that hung on the walls. He drew one or two of them aside, disclosing the solid white wall of snow. “All the comforts of home!” exclaimed Bobby.

Suddenly finding themselves tired of exploring their novel quarters and realizing that they were exhausted, the boys gathered skins together and laid them upon the floor of the snow hut, reserving one apiece for covering.

Then they lay down on what seemed to them the most comfortable beds they had ever known.

It was not till they were delightfully snug and comfortable that Billy had the disquieting idea that somebody really ought to get up and put out the lights. These consisted of three oil lamps that threw a mellow and not unpleasant light about the room.

Billy’s suggestion was received with a storm of uncomplimentary remarks.

“But we can’t leave ’em burning all night,” persisted Billy, when the riot had somewhat subsided.

“Do it yourself then,” said Fred drowsily; he was already more than half asleep.

“And for the love of Pete, stop making so much noise,” added Mouser pathetically. “I’ve got to sleep.”

“Suppose you do it, Sleepyhead,” retorted Billy, turning so that the light from the lamp nearest him would not shine in his eyes. “You’re nearest them—”

With a sigh Bobby threw off his fur blanket and got up.

“I suppose I’m the goat, as usual,” he complained. “If I didn’t start something, you fellows would still be arguing to-morrow morning.”

And then, when all the lights were out and the blessed dark enveloped them, some one said they ought to have some ventilation.

“Say,” said Fred, raising himself belligerently on one elbow, “if anybody wants more air in this shebang he can go dig in the snow himself. I’m going to sleep.”

“Who says we need more air?” Bobby demanded sleepily. “Didn’t you see that four-inch hole in the roof of the igloo? That’s supposed to let in all the fresh air we need. Now, if anybody says another word, I’m going to pitch him out into the snow and let the polar bears get him. Goodnight!”

It is to be supposed that this threat silenced the boys. At any rate, no more suggestions of any sort were heard from them that night.

However, with the first feeble rays of daylight filtering through the ice that served as windows they were awake, feeling enormously refreshed by their good night’s sleep and healthily ready for anything that might happen.

“I feel as if I could tackle a polar bear right now,” boasted Fred, holding out his good right arm and feeling proudly of his muscle. “Boy, what I wouldn’t do to him!”

“Boy, what I wouldn’t do with his carcass,” added Billy, sniffing the air hungrily. “I wonder if there’s any of that stew left?”

He went over to the pot and peered in, giving a whoop of joy.

“Lots of it,” he cried. “Who’s with me?”

“Better wait a while,” Bobby counseled. “Maybe Mrs. Eskimo wants the stew for dinner. Anyway, I had enough last night. I’d like a change of diet this morning.”

“My, listen to him!” exclaimed Fred, grinning. “Ain’t he fussy? Say, what do you think this is, Bobby? A hotel or something?”

“Maybe our friends won’t come back at all,” ventured Mouser. “And then I bet we’d be pretty glad to eat stew.”

But he had hardly finished speaking when the Eskimo woman arrived.

She came in attired just as she had left the night before, and the boys wondered if she had slept that way all night.

She grinned good-naturedly and went about the business of preparing breakfast as though she were used to having four strange boys as visitors every day of the week.

The boys watched her admiringly as she prepared meal and cut bread in thick slabs for the table. They hung about her eager to help, and her perpetual grin widened as she gave them various small chores to do. She had on hand some provisions brought from the trading station.

When the breakfast was almost ready the two Eskimo men came in, completing the party. They brought with them many things from the longboat.

When the boys, having satisfied their ravenous appetites, tried to thank the Eskimos for their timely help, the latter looked so painfully embarrassed and ill at ease that the boys had to stop.

However, despite the natural backwardness of the natives to speak about themselves, Bobby, by careful questioning, managed to find out something about these people who had befriended them.

The two male Eskimos were father and son and the woman of the wide, good-natured grin, was none other than the wife and mother of the household.

It was the older Eskimo who had spoken to Bobby the night before and promised to take them to see the guide Mooloo. The younger native seemed even more taciturn and uncommunicative than his father; so quiet was he, in fact, that the boys often forgot that he was around.

The name of the older man, as near as they could get it, was Kapje, but they never found out what the other two members of the family were called.

Breakfast over, Kapje became communicative to the point of saying that although the snowstorm had not developed into the blizzard he had expected, it was still snowing so heavily that it would be unwise to try to find the guide Mooloo that day.

“To-morrow,” he said heavily. “Maybe next day. No can tell. Snow, she stop—we go!”

And despite all their arguing and pleading, the boys could not move him a step from that resolution.

“Might as well try to move that five-foot snow wall outside,” Billy had muttered to Bobby in an aside, and Bobby had nodded understanding.

Although he was sensible enough to believe that Kapje knew his business, the delay was hard to bear. If he had had only himself to consider it is probable he would have decided to take his chance in the storm, but they could do nothing without the Eskimo’s help.

Of course, they might seek out some of the other natives, but they would probably think the same as Kapje about starting out in a threatened blizzard. And, anyway, Bobby knew that he and the other boys owed more than they could ever hope to pay to the Eskimo and his son and he did not want to anger them.

After breakfast the boys determined they’d like to have a look around them, but when they started to put on the coats they had worn the night before, Kapje grunted a protest and pointed to a pile of fur clothing which the boys had not noticed till that moment.

“Clothes no good—no keep cold out,” said the Eskimo scornfully. “I bring you fur. See! This way you wear ’em.”

While the boys, voicelessly grateful for the Eskimo’s kindness, looked on with interest, Kapje held up the clothing he had brought for them.

“See,” he explained. “This your undershirt.” It was a garment made of fawn skin and designed to be worn with the hair in, next the body. “You put that on first, you see. Then this pants and coat made of caribou skins, and these boots, they keep the legs warm. Seal skin, you know—maybe? An’ these stockings, also of the seal skin, yes? Fur keep you warm always. Wool, never.”

Then, as though embarrassed at this, for him, remarkably long speech, the Eskimo turned and left the place before the boys could thank him.

Eagerly the boys examined the strange fur garments. There was a complete outfit, one for each of them, even including mittens of caribou or seal.

Their inspection was interrupted by the woman who led the way to one end of the igloo and pushed aside a heavy skin, revealing a low arched doorway, the existence of which the boys had never suspected up to this moment.

The woman motioned them inside, showing again her friendly grin.

“Put on fur,” she said. “An’ you never be cold again. Fur very warm—like fire.”

“Oh, boy!” cried Fred, as he hurriedly flung off his own clothing and stepped into the undergarment of fawn skin. “I’ll say this is the life. Some good old scout, our friend Kapje!”

“You bet he is!” exclaimed Bobby, warmly. “I only wish we had some way to pay him for all he is doing for us.”

“Oh, we’ll pay him all right,” cried Billy exuberantly. “When we get the treasure we’ll divide up fifty-fifty.”

“Say, not so loud, not so loud,” cried Fred, scornfully. “What’s the matter with you, you old stewed prune? Do you want to give our secret away?”

“Oh, say! I forgot,” cried Billy penitently. “Honest I did, fellows. I wonder if anybody heard it.”

“We’ll hope not,” said Bobby, adding, as he pulled on the caribou pants: “But seriously, fellows, we’d better be pretty careful what we say. If we can once get what we’re after, we can be generous. But until then, the least said, soonest mended.”

And when, attired in fur from head to foot, the boys stepped out into the bitter world of ice and snow that surrounded the igloo, they realized how true had been Kapje’s statement that fur was the only sensible or practical clothing for a climate where the thermometer often fell to sixty degrees below zero.

The cold, which would have found its way irresistibly through porous woolen clothing, no matter how heavy it might be, attacked in vain their impenetrable suits of fur.

It was a glorious feeling. To know, by the way your nose felt and by your watering eyes how bitterly cold it was and yet not to suffer any actual discomfort.

They felt as though that grim North which had swallowed up so many adventurous travelers from warmer places had suddenly turned friendly to them. They loved even the snow that fell thickly and heavily, powdering them in no time with a thick covering of white.

“We look like Santa Claus,” chuckled Bobby. “No wonder the dear old boy is supposed to make his home up this way. I feel as if we ought to come across him any minute with his reindeer and sleigh.”

“I wish we would,” said Billy. “Maybe he’d take us to see Mooloo. Look,” he added. “Isn’t that our old college chum Kapje coming toward us?”

Clearing their eyes of the snow that blinded them, they peered ahead and found that it was Kapje looking like a white grizzly bear in his snow-covered furs.

He was heading for the igloo the boys had just left, and when Bobby called out to him he halted in evident impatience.

“No can wait,” he called through the brittle air. “Fin’ big walrus. Walrus no wait Eskimo.” With which peculiar words he disappeared inside the igloo.

“Say, fellows,” cried Billy, his eyes as big as saucers, “I’ll bet he’s going to hunt walrus.”

“Well, if he is,” said Bobby joyfully, “you can just bet we’re going, too!”

When Kapje returned he was accompanied by a number of other Eskimos who carried spears and a couple of queer looking boats which the boys afterward learned were made of animal skin.

These boats, staunch in the water and capable of holding two or three men apiece, were yet light enough to be carried easily on shore.

As the jabbering natives approached, Bobby made a dive for Kapje and asked to be allowed to go along on the expedition. The latter grunted assent, giving each of them one of the sharp-pointed, long, heavy spears.

They tramped on through the loose, light snow till they came to the waterfront. There they stopped, the Eskimos still jabbering in excitement, and pointing oceanwards.

The boys strained their eyes to see, through the curtain of falling snow, what it was the natives were getting so worked up about.

Bobby was the first to see it, and he grabbed Fred, who was nearest him, pointing out toward the water.

“Look!” he cried. “That large ice floe! It’s covered with something! Seals! Or walruses, I guess. That’s what Kapje said!”

The water was filled with floating blocks of ice, varying in size, some of them—and these were farther out from the shore—large enough to build a small igloo on.

As Bobby had said, one of these large ice floes was so covered with animals of some kind that it was weighted down to the surface of the water.

Breathlessly the boys looked from this to the gesticulating natives. It seemed that they were to witness first hand a native walrus hunt—or seal hunt. The ice floe was not near enough yet for them to determine just what kind of animals crowded so closely upon it.

“Look!” cried Fred, under his breath. “Kapje’s getting ready for business.”

The Eskimo had deftly slipped one of the queer canoes into the water and had jumped into it, spear in hand, while two more of the natives followed him.

“Say,” cried Billy excitedly, as the second boat seemed in process of being launched, “I wonder if we couldn’t get in on this party?”

But although they were all wild to go along and take a hand in the fun, they soon saw that there was no hope of it. There were only two boats—not enough to carry all the native hunters, so of course there would be no room for them, who were strangers to these children of the North, and, in their eyes, rank amateurs.

“Wonder why they don’t get a couple of more boats, so they can all go,” whispered Mouser, and Bobby answered, getting the idea from a story he had once read.

“They are afraid of frightening the animals, I guess. They have to steal up on them quietly, and if too many went they wouldn’t have any chance of surprising them.”

In this Bobby had put his finger on the fundamental idea in the science of seal and walrus hunting.

The animals, sluggish and slow when not in the water, friendly and unsuspicious by nature, will, if not frightened, allow their pursuers to approach quite close to them.

Then it is the aim of the hunters to kill the animals nearest to the water—whether on the ice or ashore—so that the bodies of the slain animals surround, prison-like, those of their live companions, cutting off the retreat of the latter.

So the boys watched, fascinated, while the two slender canoes crept out upon the water, the natives paddling gently so as not to alarm their intended victims on the ice floe.

Nearer and nearer they came, the first canoe bearing Kapje, circling cautiously about the animals, bringing up on the opposite side of the floe from the other boat.

“Surrounding them!” cried Bobby, beginning to feel a sort of sick sympathy for the animals at bay. They did not seem to have a chance, surrounded like that.

Then suddenly the incredible thing happened. The animals on the ice—the boys had gathered from the mutterings of the Eskimos that they were not walruses, but were seals—as though finally deciding that the men in the approaching boats were not friendly to them, began to move slowly, sluggishly, the ones nearest the edge slipping off into the water with a dull splash.

The men in the canoes, as though maddened at sight of their escaping prey, rushed toward the floe and the animals that still remained upon it.

They were too late. Before they had reached near enough to the ice for the throwing of a spear, the last seal had deserted its resting place, the huge drifting block of ice was empty.

“Zowie, that’s the time they got fooled!” cried Fred excitedly. “Old Mr. Seal sure gave them the slip!”

“Not yet!” cried Mouser excitedly. “Look! They’re looking for them in the water.”

“Not much chance,” said Bobby, wondering at the queer relief he felt. “Seals are mighty slow on land, but they make up for it in the water. Besides, I’ve read that they’re pretty fierce when they’re attacked in the water.”

In this Bobby proved himself right. The men in the boats, after encircling the ice floe several times in the pursuit of the escaping seals, finally gave it up and returned, disgruntled enough, to the shore.

“Well,” said Fred suddenly, “I can’t say I’m sorry. The seal’s a friendly sort of old boy—just see what faithful intelligent pets they make, almost as good as a dog—and it seems a shame to kill ’em off just for the sake of what you can get from them.”

“Lucky for you the natives can’t understand much of what you’re saying,” laughed Bobby, glad that Fred felt the same way he did about it. “Hunting seals is their chief outdoor sport, you know.”

“Well, they can have it, for all I care,” retorted Fred.

“It isn’t the Eskimos that are killing the seals off,” remarked Billy wisely. “They’re leaving that to us, who live farther south and don’t need the fur or anything about ’em, really. The Eskimos do need to kill ’em or starve and freeze themselves.”

Although the boys were eager to find Mooloo, they by no means wasted the rest of that day.

They wandered about the strange, fascinating, snow-covered land, regarding the dome-shaped igloos with an interest that never grew less, stumbling at last into an old stone hut which showed its deserted state in every dejected nook and cranny of it.

“Wonder why there’s no one living here,” said Mouser, as the lads wandered about the place. “You see plenty of snow houses around, but I should think a place like this would be lots more comfortable.”

They put this question to Kapje some time later when, driven by the pangs of hunger and a desire to thaw out their noses, they returned to the igloo.

The man, seemingly disgruntled at the failure of the hunt that morning, was sitting before the fire, a frown on his heavily creased face.

His wife, who was again stirring a delectable smelling mixture over the oil stove, gave them her broad grin.

In answer to Bobby’s question of why the Eskimos built snow igloos when there were perfectly good stone houses going to waste, the native merely grunted and shrugged his shoulders.

“Eskimo like igloo best,” he answered. “Time come move along, leave snow house, build another. No move stone house.

“Up there,” he added, after a short silence, waving his hand in a generally northern direction, “Eskimo use stone house. Down here he like igloo.”

At that moment, the son of the household entering, Mrs. Eskimo, as Billy called her, served the lunch and there was no more conversation in that particular igloo for several minutes to come.

Then Kapje, as though still smarting from his failure of the morning, turned to the boys, a deeper frown wrinkling his forehead.

“You see them seal this morning?” he asked, and the boys nodded.

“That way, lots of time,” went on the Eskimo, as though it were a relief to tell his grievance to someone. “Seal, he scared. You get spear ready for him an’—poof—he gone, like that. Too much hunt. Other time, kill ’em easy. Now, see you come too quick. Seal hunt no like old days.” And here the man shook his head and looked so mournful the boys had all they could do to keep from laughing.

After lunch they noticed with delight that the snow had stopped and the sun was attempting to smile weakly through the heavy storm clouds.

At the sight Bobby charged back into the igloo to tell Kapje the good news and urge him to start with them right away to find Mooloo. Still the Eskimo shook his head.

“In the morning we start,” he said and something in his tone convinced Bobby that there would be no changing his mind on this point. “Then we reach Mooloo before dark. Start now—no can do.”

So, burning with impatience, the boys were forced to spend another night in the igloo.

First thing in the morning they were up, garbed once more in their snug fur clothing, ready to start on the journey.

After a hearty breakfast, they shook hands warmly with Mrs. Eskimo, who beamed broadly upon them and wished them good luck.

Then they were out in the keen, brisk air, with the sun smiling down on them and Kapje and his son waiting for them to start.

“All right,” cried Bobby joyfully. “Let’s go.”

Never as long as they lived would the boys forget that all-day trip. The intense cold nipped at their faces, trying to reach its icy fingers through the fur that covered them.

Their outfit consisted of two canoes, one of which was managed by Kapje and the other by his son. They were amply provided with spears in case they should meet with any seals or walrus on the journey. There were also a couple of old-fashioned rifles, which had roused intense interest in the boys.

In response to Bobby’s question as to why the firearms were necessary, Kapje had given his characteristic shrug.

“Meet bear, maybe,” he had said, as if such an event was of everyday occurrence and not necessary to worry about. “Gun healthy have along.”

“Whoopee!” Fred had shouted irrepressibly. “Had a notion all along we were going to have a polar bear fight. Here’s hoping we have another bear stew before long.”

At that, Kapje, the Eskimo, had looked at Fred with the nearest to a twinkle that the boys had seen in his eye and said, slowly:

“White boy make stew for bear, mebbe. How that be, eh?”

“Not so good, not so good,” Fred had returned uncomfortably, while his companions roared with glee. “That isn’t in my program at all, now let me tell you.”

The boys had chuckled about it all the way down to the water’s edge. But after the boat had pushed off from shore and Kapje was guiding it skillfully among the crowding ice floes Bobby’s expression became more sober.

“Are polar bears thick around here? Do they find many of them?” he asked of the Eskimo. He and Fred were in Kapje’s boat while Billy and Mouser were with the younger Eskimo.

Kapje shook his head.

“No so much,” he replied in his funny English. “White bear—most never see him. Yellow bear—once a while. He fierce—fight bad—shoot.”

“What do you mean, yellow bear?” Fred asked curiously. “Aren’t all polar bears white?”

The Eskimo grunted as though in scorn of this lack of knowledge.

“White bear,” he proceeded to explain laboriously, “he not so fierce. He run. Yellow white bear or yellow bear—he dangerous. He no run; he fight. Shoot.”

“Well,” sighed Fred, resignedly, “yellow bear or white, I only hope we get a squint at him before we finish the trip.”

They made good time that morning, although toward noon the boys noticed that the water was becoming more and more thickly blocked with ice so that in some places it seemed nothing short of a miracle that they were able to get through at all.

Again and again they thanked the lucky stars that had given them the experienced and friendly old Eskimo as their guide.

When they finally stopped to rest and eat from the generous lunch Kapje’s wife had put up for them, they could see by the Eskimo’s placid expression that he was well-pleased with the progress they were making.

As Kapje and his son talked together in their own language, the boys wandered off a little by themselves, in order to talk over what was uppermost in their minds—the treasure.

“We ought to find it pretty soon, now,” Billy said in low, excited tones.

“If we find this Mooloo, we may,” said Mouser. “But by the time we reach his igloo he may have gone. You know what Kapje said, when an Eskimo gets tired of one place, he trots on a bit and makes a new snow palace.”

“Down with the gloom hound!” cried Fred, indignantly. “What’s the use of looking for trouble?”

“Kapje’s been mighty white to us,” said Bobby thoughtfully. “If we ever do find the treasure you can bet he and his family are going to be mighty glad of it.”

At the mention of the Eskimo they realized that they had wandered away further than they had intended and turned to go back. They hastened their steps, thinking they might have kept their guides waiting.

As they reached the clearing where they had left the two men, some instinct, some feeling, warned them of danger, cautioning them to proceed quietly.

Although they were hardly aware of this warning, they obeyed it instantly, their careful footsteps entirely muffled in the thick carpet of snow as they approached the clearing.

Perhaps one thing that had warned them was the fact that they could no longer hear the voices of Kapje and his son. Their low, guttural jabbering had ceased, and in its place reigned an uncanny silence.

Bobby, his hair fairly rising on his head, was the first to reach the clearing and, still keeping himself partially concealed, he peered forth cautiously toward the spot where he had last seen the Eskimos.

At the sight that met his eyes it is small wonder that the blood congealed in his veins. It seemed as though his whole body had turned to ice.

With a slight motion of his hand he warned his comrades to be quiet. But in spite of the warning they crept close to him, peering over his shoulder at the tableau that held him spellbound.

Then slowly they also seemed turned to ice, frozen to the spot, horror-stricken, unable to move.

For there, a few feet from the water’s edge where they had left them, lay the two Eskimos motionless, apparently dead. And above them, sniffing at them curiously, patting them tentatively now and then with a great clumsy paw, stood a sinister, yellowish shape.

“A bear,” thought Bobby, in horror.

The bear was a lean, half-grown brute, half-starved by the look of him, his coat a dirty yellow white—by Kapje’s own admission the most vicious and formidable of his kind.

Bobby heard a gasp behind him and knew that Fred was about to rush into the open, with nobody knew what mad hope of rescuing the two men from their horrible fate.

Bobby grasped his friend’s arm, holding on fiercely.

“Keep still,” he uttered in a strangled whisper. “I have a plan.”

Bobby measured the distance between him and that rifle that lay so useless in the snow. If the bear withdrew only a little way, he would seize his chance, make a dash for the rifle, and shoot the ugly brute before it could reach him.

It was a mad chance—an almost impossible chance. Bobby knew that, but he also knew that it was the only chance they had.

Still holding fast to Fred’s arm, which the latter strove to wrench free, he centered his attention upon the great bear that still loomed uncertainly above the prostrate men.

If he should attack—then Bobby knew what he would do. Trusting to surprise he would make a dash for that rifle in the mad hope that he might reach it before the brute reached him.

Ah, what was the beast doing? Puzzled, was he? Undecided whether to begin his feast then or wait to make sure that his victims were dead.

For a moment it seemed as though he would fall upon the two men lying so helpless there, and with one sweep of his powerful, sharp-clawed paw rend the life from them.

Bobby’s muscles grew tense; he was ready to spring. Then, with a sharp intake of breath that was almost audible, he relaxed again.

The bear had changed its mind. There was plenty of time. He would sit down and think it over for a while. With a slow, leisurely movement the animal moved off a few paces, then turned and sat down, yellow eyes fixed watchfully on its victims. The slightest movement, the slightest change in the position of those two men—

Bobby shuddered and wondered how they could lie so quiet under the watchfulness of that sinister glare.

He felt Fred’s arm jerk from his grasp and knew he could no longer be restrained. Bobby knew that the moment for action had come and he gathered himself to meet it.

Shouting wildly, waving his arms above his head, he dashed out into the open, seeing one thing, and one thing only—that rifle lying in the snow.

The bear, bewildered, shrank back, staring. Only a moment, but that moment was enough for Bobby. As, with a roar, the beast sprang forward, Bobby straightened himself, rifle in hand.

A charging roar—a shot—the beast towering above him, staggering—another shot—another—and a dirty yellow beast writhing in the snow! Then quiet and a stain upon the snow that spread and spread, turning it to red.

The whole thing had happened so suddenly that Fred and Billy and Mouser did not move from the spot where Bobby himself had been but a moment before.

Now they stared dumbly at him, looking with white faces from Bobby to the beast that lay so still on the snow at his feet.

The Eskimos were the first to stir, and they got to their feet slowly, dazedly, as though waking from a hideous nightmare, not quite sure yet that they were actually alive and unhurt.

As though the movement of these two broke the spell the boys were under, they rushed forward, bombarding Bobby with questions and clapping him on the back, while they fairly wrung his hand off.

But the natives, a new expression replacing the wonder in their eyes, shoved the boys aside, holding out their great, fur-mittened hands.

The son of Kapje shook hands with him first, pumping his arm up and down solemnly.

“You save life of Eskimo—he thank you,” was all he said, but there was a look of doglike devotion in his eyes.

Kapje came next, and his grip was even stronger than his son’s.

“Eskimo bad enemy—good friend—very good,” he said simply. “You save him life—he no forget.”

That was all, but it was enough to make Bobby understand that he had made two friends who would serve him faithfully and willingly for as long as he needed them.

He looked from the smoking rifle in his hand to the body of the great bear and laughed a little shakily.

“I don’t know how I did it myself,” he admitted, adding with interest: “How did the bear manage to slip up on you like that, with your guns several yards away from you?”

The younger Eskimo turned away and Kapje dropped his eyes to the ground as though sorely embarrassed.

“We think we see walrus,” he explained reluctantly. “We drop our guns—go look. When we turn back—see bear. Drop in snow—make believe dead. Fool bear—little while. Then you come. Lucky for fool Eskimo you come.”

With this last sentence the old fellow turned away as though the incident were definitely closed and followed his son down to the water where the latter was preparing to shove one of the canoes into the water.

“Well, we got our bear, all right,” said Fred ruefully, as he gingerly touched the dingy yellow coat of the beast with his foot. “I wonder what we’re going to do with it?”

When they put this question to Kapje he shrugged his shoulders.

“Leave him,” he said, laconically. “No take him along now. No time. More snow soon. Maybe we get bear by an’ by.”

At his words the boys noticed for the first time that the sun, shining but a few moments ago so brilliantly, was now behind heavy clouds that certainly seemed to presage more snow.

“Gee, it wouldn’t be much fun to be caught in another blizzard before we can reach Mooloo,” said Billy, looking anxiously at the threatening sky.

“I’ll say not,” said Fred, adding as he passed a hand over his face: “My face feels like a chunk of ice. I’d give a lot for the inside of an igloo just now and a good hot fire.”

“Choke him, somebody! Think of speaking of a good hot fire when the thermometer’s sixty below! Cruelty to animals, I call it,” complained Mouser, as, in answer to imperative gesturing on the part of Kapje, they reluctantly left the bear to its fate and climbed into the canoes.

“Glad you know what you are, anyway,” grinned Billy and Mouser’s fervent desire to “get at him” came near to upsetting the canoe.

At the Eskimo’s sharp cry of warning they settled down, however, and made themselves as comfortable as possible for the last stage of the journey before them.

It was almost two hours before the storm overtook them. But then it seemed intent on making up for lost time. It came not in a gentle fall of feathery flakes, but in a driving sheet of sleet that beat into their faces mercilessly, blinding them.

They said nothing, just ducking their heads to avoid the worst of the storm’s fury, wondering if Kapje would dare to go on in the face of it.

That question was answered sooner than they expected.

They had been making what progress they could in the teeth of the gale for some fifteen or twenty minutes when the older Eskimo swung in sharply toward the blurred outline of the shore.

The second canoe followed, and in a moment more they were staggering, half-blinded and half-frozen, up the slippery, snowy bank.

Kapje was shouting something above the noise of the wind, and the boys came close to him to hear what he was saying.

They finally made out that he had decided to spend the night there. It was impossible to make any headway against the raging storm.

In this last statement the boys heartily agreed with him, but they were dismayed, nevertheless, at the thought of spending the night in that wild, uninhabitable spot.

It was not long, however, before they learned something of the genius of the Eskimo when it comes to the making of an igloo.

Without wasting further breath on speech, the natives set to work fashioning the snow into large blocks, packing them down in such a way that, when they were through, each block seemed as heavy and durable as rock.

It was not long before the boys caught the idea and threw themselves into the work with a will. Not only was the work itself fascinating to them, but they were glad to do anything to ward off the intense cold.

When they decided that they had enough blocks to start building with—and the Eskimos worked with remarkable rapidity—they began the actual work of construction.

It was then the boys marveled, their respect for these simple children of the North growing by leaps and bounds as they saw the skill with which they set about the erection of this snow shelter.

Standing within the magically growing igloo they fitted block upon block. The sides and bottom of each block had been hollowed out in a shallow groove, so that they fitted closely, and the blocks were piled in such a way that they formed a solid strong wall.

With his left hand Kapje held the blocks, cutting and fitting with his right hand, his son helping in this work while the boys, under the instruction of the older Eskimo, filled in the chinks from the outside with handfuls of loose snow.

When the work was completed they found themselves the proud possessors of an igloo about twelve feet square and about seven feet high.

Then they set to work to make snow beds which, while not the warmest in the world, were soft, and, within the shelter of the snow walls, would ward off actual discomfort.

“What gets me,” said Bobby wonderingly, staring up at the arched ceiling of the igloo, “is how you manage to make a roof of snow like that without anything to support it.”

“Roof very strong,” said Kapje, not without a certain pride in the work. “All of us get up on roof, sit there—it no come down. Roof very strong.”

Later the boys helped the natives carry the canoes up close to the igloo where they would be sheltered from the worst of the storm.

Then they carried the contents of the little craft into the snow house.

They found to their delight that Kapje, with the foresight of his race, or, possibly, thinking that they would probably run into just such a storm as they had encountered, had provided for the emergency.

There were canned goods enough to keep them in comfort for several days and a tiny oil stove for their cooking. And when a fire had been made in the little stove and the contents of a can of pork and beans was sending out its tempting aroma, the boys felt that their contentment was complete.

The snow fell steadily all the rest of that afternoon and all night, but in the morning the storm had abated. It was clear, but bitterly cold. It did not take the boys long to realize that the thermometer had dropped several degrees during the hours they had been asleep.

However, refreshed by a good hot breakfast and feeling that they were at last close upon the trail of the guide Mooloo, they set off in high spirits, which even the bitter cold could not discourage.

They traveled steadily for several hours without meeting with further accident, and at last Kapje volunteered the information that they were nearing the little Eskimo settlement where Mooloo lived in his igloo with his wife and two small children.

The boys, half frozen as they were, felt their old eagerness reviving at this information, and when Kapje finally turned in toward the shore they had all they could do to keep from jumping into the icy water and beating the canoe to a landing.

Once on shore, it was only a short distance to the igloo of Mooloo, the guide, and soon they found themselves at the door of the snow house.

Then they followed Kapje and his son into the warmth of its interior.

Mooloo, who seemed a surly fellow and not at all like Kapje and his son, looked up at their entrance with a frown. He had been doing something mysterious to a sealskin, but now he thrust this behind him with a suspicions movement.

At sight of the two Eskimos his face cleared a little, but he still regarded the boys warily.

“Looks as if he thought we’d bite,” whispered Fred to Bobby, and the latter nudged him in the ribs as a signal to keep quiet.

Kapje said a few words in the native tongue—probably introducing them, the boys thought—and then he turned, holding out his hand to Bobby.

“Take you to Mooloo,” he said. “I go now. Goo’-by.”

As he turned to go Bobby tried to stop him, to thank him for all he had done for him and his chums, but Kapje would have none of it.

“You no thank me,” he said. “You save lives of Eskimo. Eskimo never forget. Goo’-by.”

The younger Eskimo grunted something that the boys took to be farewell, and in another moment father and son had disappeared.

A strange misgiving beset the boys. They hated to see these two natives, who had proved themselves so friendly, go. Here they were now, really at the mercy of the surly Mooloo.

Maybe he was better than he looked. Anyway, they must say something. They could not stand there foolishly staring at each other all day. And it was quite plain that the Eskimo had no notion of breaking the silence.

It was Bobby, as usual, who spoke first.

“Are you Mooloo?” he asked.

The Eskimo nodded, his eyes suspicious.

“We’ve come a long way to see you,” said Bobby. Then suddenly remembering the walrus tooth token which, for safer keeping he had kept on a string ever since Chief Takyak had given it to him, he put a hand inside his fur clothing and drew it forth, breaking the string as he did so.

He approached the Eskimo, holding the walrus tooth in his hand.

“Chief Takyak told me to bring this to you,” he said. “He said you would know it and would know that we were friends of his.”

The Eskimo, who had never once changed his position and who was now staring up at Bobby with unblinking, beadlike black eyes, shifted his squat form with a surly grunt and let his glance drop to the token Bobby held out to him.

The change that came over him was startling. He took the walrus tooth from Bobby, his eyes lighted up strangely and when he looked up at the lad again it was evident that he was greatly impressed.

“What you want?” he asked, and though the words were abrupt, the tone in which he uttered them was almost servile.

Bobby had done some quick thinking in the last few seconds. He had already decided to say nothing that might lead the guide to suspect the real object of their mission. But since seeing the latter he had made up his mind to be even more careful.

The fellow was surly naturally. There was a shifty look in his eyes. If he should once get wind of the treasure, there was no knowing what he might do. Bobby knew instinctively that this particular Eskimo could not be trusted. So now he told the fellow just enough to satisfy his curiosity—no more.

They wanted some papers and books they believed to be in the battered hulk of the ship that had been wrecked a way down the coast. Did he remember it?

By a slight nod and a grunt the Eskimo let him understand that he did.

Well, if they could find the papers and books and get them safely home, the Eskimo would be well paid. Would he help them?

The Eskimo not only agreed, but seemed eager to be off. The ship—or, rather, the battered hulk of what had once been a ship—was not very far from there, it seemed, only two or three hours journey.

Delighted at the change in the manner of the Eskimo and only too glad not to delay longer the search for the treasure, the boys agreed to start as soon as they had something to eat and had warmed themselves before the fire.

Mooloo’s wife and his two roly-poly, big-eyed children joined them for lunch; although the children, shy at sight of the strangers, did their best to hide behind their mother until hunger and the sight of tempting food lured them forth.

Refreshed and filled with a wild excitement now that the treasure seemed almost in sight, the boys, with Mooloo, the guide, set forth eagerly for the treasure ship.

Unlike Kapje, Mooloo did not use a canoe. His was a flat-bottomed boat, shaped more like a rowboat, but which he propelled by means of a paddle.

The boys noticed that he slipped several spears into the bottom of the boat and also an oilskin-covered package which they guessed contained provisions. Evidently the Eskimos took no chance of going without their meals.

They had not journeyed very far when the boys noticed that, as on the previous afternoon, the sky was clouding over. A few moments later a handful of snowflakes showered softly down upon them.

“This old country,” cried Fred, brushing the flakes off protestingly, “has got the habit of snowing, all right.”

“Maybe it’s only a flurry this time,” said Bobby hopefully. “Look! It’s stopping already.”

But alas for Bobby’s hopes. In half an hour’s time the boys saw that the snow was not stopping. As a matter of fact, it was coming down with a steady insistence that gave it all the appearance of a genuine long-continuing snow storm.

“Well, if that isn’t the limit,” said Billy disgustedly. “I guess the weather’s just been practicing a bit so far. Now it’s ready to give us a taste of the real thing.”

“What’s the matter, Mooloo?” asked Bobby, noticing that the Eskimo was grumbling to himself. “Anything wrong?”

“Maybe no, maybe yes,” replied the Eskimo, with a return to his surly manner. “We lost.”

For a moment the boys thought they must have misunderstood him. Lost—on an ocean filled with menacing blocks of ice! Lost—in a storm like this!

To the chorus of frantic questions flung at him the Eskimo merely replied over and over again with stoic patience:

“We lost. Maybe find way again—maybe not. Bad storm. No can tell.”

Seeing that there was nothing to be gotten from their guide, the boys finally relapsed into an anxious silence, their eyes straining to pierce the curtain of snow that fell so thickly about them.

“Well, I’ve had enough snow in the last few days to last me the rest of my life,” said Mouser, breaking a gloomy silence. “I’ll say this is the limit!”

No one contradicted him and again they fell into a miserable silence.

The snow continued to fall, heavy, thick, smothering. The boys noticed, too, that the ice that blocked the water was becoming more formidable.

They met with larger masses, and sometimes sinister shapes of baby icebergs slipped by them, looming bulkily through the falling snow.

Once they became so tightly wedged between blocks of ice that it was only by all working together with the spears, pushing at the surrounding ice with all their might, that they succeeded in dragging the sturdy little craft free of her prison, out into the more open waters.

Suddenly a guttural cry from the Eskimo warned them of danger. At the same time the guide gave a sharp stroke of his paddle which turned the boat quickly—but not an instant too quickly—to avoid the huge ice floe that was bearing down upon them.

As it was, they scraped the side of it with a sharp, rending noise, and then they saw, with a quickening of heartbeats, the animal on the floe.

A walrus! The boys recognized it at once, though this was not like any walrus they had ever seen before. He was full thirteen feet long, huge of tusk and fierce-eyed. He must have been very old, for his great body was almost naked and marked all over with jagged scars of battle.

A walrus is, as a rule, a peaceful animal and is content to leave alone the strange man creature as long as the man creature is content to leave him alone. But when the walrus is startled or attacked suddenly, he is remarkably ferocious and his great ivory tusks make him a formidable enemy.

Now, this walrus had been surprised, and at sight of the spears which the boys still held in their hands, his whole enormous bulk became suddenly a wicked, charging fury.

Beside them and a little above their frail boat drifted the ice floe, and upon it was that infuriated beast, roaring out its frightful challenge.

No time to get away, no time even to think. Time only to act.

As the beast lumbered heavily toward them, the boys raised the spears, which they still held, and lunged with all their might. At the same time Mooloo, with a yell of rage, hurled his spear with all the force of his body behind it.

The walrus stopped in its advance, gave one terrific bellow, and wavered for an instant, its flappers turned in. Then slowly it fell to its side and slid into the water with a terrific splash that nearly drowned them in icy spray.

A moment more, and they had drifted past the ice floe, which was almost immediately lost to sight in the whirling snowflakes.

“Whew!” gasped Bobby. “That was one close call, all right. Never knew a walrus had that much fight in him.”

“Good thing he didn’t fall into the boat,” remarked Billy. “If he had, there wouldn’t have been a square inch of us left to tell the tale.”

“Not bad sign—meet walrus,” said Mooloo suddenly, and the boys looked at him quickly. It was the first time their guide had spoken since he had told them they were lost and they thought they detected a more hopeful note in his voice.

“Not a bad sign—what do you mean?” asked Bobby, his heart leaping with hope.

“Walrus no go far from shore,” Mooloo explained. “We near shore—near ship, maybe. We see.”

Although the boys tried not to hope too much from this encouragement, they were encouraged, just the same. They knew that the Eskimo would have said nothing if he had not been pretty sure of himself.

And then suddenly there arose, directly in front of them, another grim shape and, thinking they had met with a real iceberg this time, they called out to Mooloo to turn aside.

For answer the Eskimo gave a triumphant grunt and—kept right on.

Then the boys saw that it was not an iceberg after all, but the shadowy hull of a ship—a wrecked ship—undoubtedly the treasure ship.

They felt a wild desire to shout aloud with joy, but somehow they managed to sit quiet, keeping a tight grip upon themselves. To show too much enthusiasm would be fatal. Mooloo might guess at their real business there. If he did, what then?

As they came nearer the boys saw that it must be indeed their ship, the ship which, wrecked on the treacherous shallows, had been left there to rot by the indifferent natives. If they had known what treasure lurked in that dilapidated hulk!

But right there doubt took hold of the boys. Suppose there was no treasure after all? Suppose they had come on a wild-goose chase? Well, they would at least know whether they had or not pretty soon. That thought in itself was a thrill.

The vague outline of the ship, seen through the heavily falling snow, looked enormous. One of the masts was gone entirely, but the other two stood intact, rising gauntly, like skeleton fingers pointing toward the sky.

Desolate, forsaken, coated with ice and snow, listing crazily to one side, it was a forlorn enough object, but to the boys it was the most beautiful and welcome sight they had ever seen. For, within that battered derelict, what riches might be hidden, what promise of adventure!

The boat scraped along the side of the wrecked ship, and with a loop of rope Mooloo fastened the two together.

Lucky then for the boys that their muscles had been trained in outdoor sports at Rockledge. If they had not been just as agile and strong as they were, they would never have been able to scramble aboard the ice-coated, slanting deck of the wrecked ship.

They finally managed it, however, and Mooloo, who had tied a rope about the oilskin-covered package in the bow of the small boat, shouted to them to hoist it aloft.

This they did and, seeing that Mooloo was about to join them, set to work with their sharp-pointed spears to hack away the ice and snow that covered the hatches.

It was hard work, and in the process the boys forgot that they had ever been cold and by the time one of the ancient hatches was disclosed they were perspiring with the effort.

Even harder work it was to pry loose the cover. But when this was at last accomplished and they peered down into the dark interior of the ship, something in the look of it made them draw back. Suddenly they were not quite so anxious as they had been to descend into that yawning hole.

But the voice of Mooloo roused them to the need for action.

“Snow harder all time,” said the Eskimo. “No stop to-night—maybe not to-morrow. Inside ship, snow no get us. Let’s go! Hump yourselves!”

At this unexpected bit of slang the boys had all they could do to keep their faces straight. Probably picked it up from the expressive vocabulary of some stray trader or other and was proud to show his knowledge of the English language!

“Right—let’s go,” agreed Bobby and, feeling with his feet for the companionway steps, slowly let himself through the opening.

It was as dark as pitch, and although Bobby struck a match, the feeble ray did little to dispel the darkness.

At last he felt firm ground beneath his feet and called out to the boys to come ahead. They obeyed, and a moment later all of them, including Mooloo, were gathered at the foot of the steps.

Mooloo directed Bobby to strike a match and throw its light on the oilskin-covered package which he had never allowed to get out of his sight, and after a moment of fumbling with the cord that bound it, the Eskimo drew forth an oil lamp.

It took him only a moment to fill it and light it, and when this was accomplished and the rays of the lamp illuminated their faces, the boys thought that never had light looked so good to them before.

“Where are you going?” Fred asked of Bobby, as the latter began climbing the companionway steps toward the open hatch.

“Going to put the lid on,” Bobby explained cheerfully. “When that’s done we’ll be as snug as bugs in a rug.”

“Still snowing?” queried Billy, as Bobby once more joined them.

“Snowing!” repeated the latter. “I should say so. Looks as if it didn’t intend to stop for the next year.”

“Well,” said Mouser, “if that’s the case, I’ll say we were lucky to find this old boat all right.”

“Lucky!” cried Bobby, not able altogether to keep the jubilation from his tone. “I’ll say lucky is no name for it.”

Feeling their way along, the light from the lantern, once out of its circle of illumination, seeming only to make the darkness more impenetrable, stumbling over rotting wood and other debris, the boys finally found a cabin that seemed to be in pretty fair condition. Here they decided to spend the night.

By the light of the lamp and with the help of a small oil stove—also extracted from Mooloo’s store—they managed to make out a dinner. And, after they had eaten, they were seized by an almost uncontrollable desire to search for the treasure at once. Further delay seemed out of the question.

And yet they knew that to show too much eagerness would be the surest way to arouse Mooloo’s suspicion. Then, too, it was getting late and, if the Eskimo’s prediction were right and there was a possibility of being snowed in for several days, there was no real hurry about the search.

It was rather an uncanny business, staying in that derelict ship during the wee small hours of the night, and the boys, keyed up with excitement as they were, thought they would not be able to sleep a wink.

But, worn out with the thrilling adventures of the day, they were soon unconscious of time and place and slept heavily until morning.

It was lucky for them that they soon found the opportunity they were impatiently watching for, when they might search for the treasure without being accompanied by Mooloo.

The latter settled the question himself by saying that, since the storm was letting up a little, he would search the waters about the ship while the boys attended to their business aboard the wreck. He said that seals and walruses had been seen quite often and sometimes in considerable numbers in the vicinity of the wrecked ship, and he would like to get one, if possible.

“He can have his old walrus,” cried Bobby joyfully, when they were at last alone, the great moment at hand. “Come on, fellows, we’ll make hay while the sun shines. If there’s any treasure to be found, it will be a good idea to find it before that old boy gets back.”

They did not waste any time. By the light of the lantern—the ice that encoated the ship made it as dark in the light of morning as it was at twelve o ’clock midnight—they made their way through the vessel, searching cabins as they went, hacking away with an ax they found in one of them at rotting debris that barred their way.

As the moments flew by and they had still found nothing, the boys began to work with almost feverish eagerness. The fact that they must make the most of Mooloo’s absence, drove them on to greater effort. They searched beneath rotting mattresses, through chests of drawers, whose wood fairly fell away beneath their hands.

In a cabin that had evidently belonged to one of the mates of the vessel they found an iron-bound chest, and for a moment thought they had discovered the treasure. But on forcing the lid of the chest they found only rotting clothing, personal effects of the dead man who had once occupied that cabin.

It was uncanny, this breaking into the secrets of the dead ship, and the boys often found themselves listening nervously or glancing over their shoulders into the mystery-filled shadows about them.

They came to the quarters of the men and it did not take them long to make sure there was nothing there. Then on to the hold, where they found nothing but empty boxes or barrels, or barrels containing cans of food rusty and dingy with age.

They were about to give up the search in despair when Bobby spoke suddenly out of the darkness.

“Fellows, I’m going back to the cabin we searched first. There was something queer about it.”

The boys protested that they had searched that cabin thoroughly, that there was nothing there, but Bobby was not listening to them. Carrying the lantern, he was already making his way forward, and they had no choice but to follow him.

Reaching the cabin, they stood around gloomily while Bobby picked up the hatchet and went carefully about the place, tapping the walls as he did so.

“It’s all off, I guess,” said Mouser, as the other boys followed Bobby’s queer actions with little interest. “Takyak fooled us; or maybe he was fooled himself. But—”

A sharp exclamation from Bobby cut him short.

“It’s hollow! The wall’s hollow here,” cried the latter, his voice low and tense with excitement. “Hold the lantern close here, somebody! That’s the way. Now, then!”

While the boys watched with an interest that revived in spite of themselves, Bobby hacked madly at the wall of the cabin.

Three blows, four, and the rotten wood gave way. Bobby, putting all his weight behind the blow, nearly pitched head first into the gaping hole disclosed by the ruined wall.

There was a gasp of surprise from those behind him. Then a wild shout of triumph. For at the same moment that Bobby saw it, they saw it, too.

A great chest, inclosed in the very body of the ship itself—a chest with heavy brass hinges, an enormous padlock adorning the face of it.

Hardly knowing what they did, half mad with excitement, they tore at the cover with their bare hands at imminent danger of losing a finger or two, for Bobby was still wildly wielding the ax.

Then the cover fell away and what was left of the boy’s sanity fell away with it. Before their unbelieving eyes lay a treasure of gold and silver coins that glittered in the yellow lamp-light.

The next moment the boys were down on their knees before the chest, shouting wildly, incoherently, to one another, burying their hands, their arms in the glittering treasure.

For a time the boys were almost out of their heads with delight. Here was more wealth than they had ever seen or ever dreamed would be at their disposal. They were inclined to pinch themselves to find out if it was really true that they were awake and gazing on real money—money that had such power and yet had been lying here useless for no one knew how many years.

But there it was staring at them with its yellow eyes, gold of different coinages and of many countries, amassed no doubt by some thrifty trader who had sailed the seven seas and at last, extending his ventures to the North for its rich seal fur, had come to grief on this remote and inhospitable coast. Probably there had been no survivor of the wreck and the ship had simply been recorded in the shipping lists as missing and had practically passed from human memory.

For a time the boys were lost to every other thought but that of the treasure, and they took it up in handfuls and let it fall in a glittering stream beneath the rays of their lamp.

“How much do you think there is?” asked Bobby, in an awed tone.

“Thousands and thousands of dollars,” replied Fred, as he took up another handful. “Maybe it won’t be fun counting it!”

“Let’s do it now,” suggested Mouser. “I’m crazy to know how much there is.”

“Not now,” objected Bobby, as prudence which had vanished for a time returned to him. “You fellows mustn’t forget that the finding of this treasure has put us in a mighty lot of danger. It may mean the death of all of us if we don’t watch our step.”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Billy, the ecstatic expression on his face giving way to one of soberness.

“Just this,” returned Bobby: “If Mooloo should once know that we had found it, the lives of all of us wouldn’t perhaps be worth a plugged nickel.”

“You don’t think he’d murder us?” asked Mouser, in awed tones.

“Who can tell?” returned Bobby. “There are thousands of men among people that we call civilized that would kill us as readily as they would a fly to get this money away from us. How safe do you think we’d be in New York or any large city if thugs or gunmen knew that we had this with us? And if that is true there where they’d have to take chances with the law, how much more easily might it happen here. We haven’t any way to defend ourselves, and Mooloo with his spears could kill us easily. There wouldn’t have to be any explaining. He’d simply say, if he said anything at all, that we’d been lost in a blizzard, and the Eskimos would grunt, and that’s all there’d be to it. He’d slip our bodies into the sea and they’d never be found.”

The boys shuddered at the thought.

“Do you think that Mooloo is that kind of a fellow?” asked Billy.

“Maybe he is and maybe he isn’t,” replied Bobby. “But many a bad man becomes a murderer at the sight of gold, and it won’t do to take any chances. They say opportunity often makes the thief, and I suppose the same thing is true of other crimes. And certainly there couldn’t be any easier kind of opportunity than Mooloo would have if he wanted to take it.”

“But how on earth are we to get the money away from here without Mooloo knowing about it?” asked Fred, in great perplexity.

“That’s something we’ve got to figure out,” answered Bobby. “But just now the thing we’ve got to do is to board up this place again and do it quickly. Billy, you go up on deck and keep a lookout for Mooloo. Give us the tip if you see him coming, and we’ll hustle into some other part of the ship. Lively now, boys.”

They took another long look at the treasure and then reluctantly closed the chest. Then they set to work to repair the battered wall as well as they could. It was not a very workmanlike job, but the walls were so seamed and cracked anyway that by the time they had finished the repaired part did not differ greatly from the rest, and they trusted that it would escape detection.

Then they abandoned that particular cabin and took up their quarters in another as far removed as possible from the treasure trove. Here they got out their food and prepared a rough meal while awaiting Mooloo’s return.

It was not long before he came trudging back, dragging behind him a seal which had fallen a victim to his spear. His success had made him so well content with himself that he was less gruff and surly than usual, and even unbent so far as to tell them something of his morning’s adventures. The boys laid themselves out to be enthusiastic about his skill as a hunter. The more they could keep his mind on himself the less likely he was to be inquisitive about them.

The Eskimo was hungry after his hunt and fairly gorged himself at his meal. Then with a grunt of satisfaction he rolled himself in skins and stretched out on the floor, and the boys knew that he would be dead to the world for several hours.

Nothing could have pleased them better, and they took advantage of his slumber to make a thorough search of other parts of the ship, taking care to give a wide berth to the cabin in which they had found the treasure.

What they found, however, was of no value. The remorseless hand of Time had worked its will on the ship. Everything was covered with mold and mildew and rust. The sailors’ chests had long ago been broken open and everything of value removed. They came across fragments of letters, some in foreign tongues and most of them illegible from age. Even if they could have read them, the boys would have shrunk from doing so, as it appeared too much like trenching on the privacy of the dead.

One or two gold pieces that had escaped the prying eyes of the Eskimos were gathered up as the boys went through piles of debris.

“This explains why the Eskimos got the idea that this was a treasure ship, I suppose,” remarked Bobby. “Doubtless there were a lot of gold pieces in the sailors’ chests that represented their wages or savings. Different parties came back with these from time to time, and the story spread that where there was so much there must have been more. And it’s barely possible that old Takyak made the same discovery that we did of the treasure chest and meant some time to get it away either in driblets or at some time in a mass. Maybe there was some superstition of his that prevented his taking it before.”

In one of the cabins they came across a number of large books. Some of them were scattered volumes of an encyclopedia. Others were huge ledgers with brass clasps in which the trader’s accounts had evidently been kept. Still others were bound volumes of old magazines designed no doubt to relieve the tedium of the nights of the Arctic winter.

“Quite a library here,” commented Fred, as he handled one of them. “Why is it that they used to make books so big and thick that it was hard to lift them!”

Bobby was glancing over one of them when suddenly an idea struck him with such force that he fairly jumped.

“I’ve found it! I’ve found it!” he exclaimed jubilantly.

“You see these books,” said Bobby, Billy and Fred and Mouser clustering round him eagerly while he spoke in a low voice. “Well, there’ll be no trouble getting them away from here, because Mooloo already thinks that’s what we came for. He’ll take it as a matter of course that we’ve found them, and he won’t make any difficulty about our taking them back.”

“But who wants to take them back?” broke in Mouser. “They’re as heavy as lead and they’re not worth house room to anybody.”

“Just hold your horses,” counseled Bobby. “As far as Mooloo is concerned, they’ll be simply books that we’re taking back. But they won’t really be books. They’ll be the treasure.”

The others looked at Bobby as though he were crazy.

“Come again,” said Fred, as he scratched his head in perplexity. “I don’t get you.”

“When I was at home during the Christmas holidays,” went on Bobby, “my father was reading aloud from the paper about some of the tricks that are used in smuggling. One of them is to take a big book, scoop out the pages in the center and fill the space with diamonds. Now what those fellows did with the diamonds we’ll do with the money.”

A shout arose that was instantly repressed for fear that Mooloo would hear.

“Bobby, that headpiece of yours is a wonder!” exclaimed Fred enthusiastically.

“It’s a dandy scheme,” chuckled Billy.

“It’ll sure put it over,” declared Mouser.

“Now, the first thing to do,” continued Bobby, “is to lug a lot of these books into the cabin where Mooloo’s sleeping. When he wakes up, we’ll show them to him and turn over the pages so that he’ll see they’re all there. Ten to one he won’t do more than grunt and think we’re dippy for taking any interest in such things. But we’ll keep on until he’s got the idea fairly planted in his head that the books consist of nothing but leaves, for which he doesn’t care a rap. Then he’ll have no further curiosity, and will probably never look at them again.

“That’ll be the first step. Then the next time he goes out hunting we’ll get busy and cut big hollows in the center of the books. We’ll pack these with as much gold as they will hold, and by the time we get through we’ll have disposed of the whole thing. Then we’ll bind each book around with thongs so as to hold the covers securely together. And those books won’t be unbound until we’re safe and sound again at home.”

“But how about the money to pay Mooloo and the other Eskimos for their trouble?” objected Billy.

“I’ve thought of that,” replied Bobby. “We’ll save some out loose in our clothes so that we won’t have to unfasten any of the books. They won’t know but that we had that money with us when we came North. And we’ll pay them so handsomely that they’ll be tickled to death and think we’re regular fellows. I want especially to see that Kapje and his family get plenty for being so kind to us. And as for Mooloo, he’ll get enough to make him a high muck-a-muck among the Eskimos.”

The boys lost no time in carrying out their plan. They lugged a dozen of the ponderous volumes into their living quarters, and when Mooloo awoke he found them poring over them with a great appearance of interest. He jumped at once to the conclusion that these were the documents that they had come to find.

“Find um-huh?” he inquired.

“Just what we wanted,” replied Bobby with perfect truth, taking the book he was busied with and turning over the pages before Mooloo’s eyes.

The latter glanced at them with dull indifference. If he had any pronounced feeling at all, it was one of disgust that these queer strangers should be interested in such trivial things when there were seals and bears and walruses to be hunted.

Bobby kept on turning the pages of one book after another until Mooloo yawned and turned away his eyes. Still Bobby persisted, until with an impatient grunt the Eskimo pushed the book away and fell to mending one of his spears.

This was just what Bobby had hoped for. It was safe to say that only main force could make Mooloo look again at one of the books for which he had conceived a profound contempt.

The snow still persisted, and for this the boys were intensely grateful. They had never thought that they would be thankful for being snowbound on that bleak Arctic coast. But now they needed time above everything else, for the work they had in hand must be done with exceeding care to avoid any possibility of a slip.

The rest of that day was lost for the purpose, for Mooloo had done all the hunting he cared for, and he had plenty of work on hand in skinning the seal. But the next morning he again went out to try his luck, and then the boys worked with feverish energy to carry out their plan.

Before the guide returned, this time in a bad humor because his efforts had been fruitless, they had made notable progress. Mooloo was getting restless and wanted to return to his home, but he knew that it would be unwise under present weather conditions. But he gruffly announced his belief that on the second day from then the storm would have so far abated that they might make the return trip in safety.

The delay was to the boys what a reprieve would be to a condemned man, and they so well employed the next day that when Mooloo returned in the evening with two seal carcasses and in high feather their work was done. The snow had stopped falling and it was arranged that they should set out bright and early on the following morning.

The day broke clear but terribly cold. Still, by this time, the boys had become partly used to the climate and they were sustained by an internal fire that made them flout the cold.

While Mooloo got the boat ready and bestowed in it his hunting weapons and other belongings, the boys lugged out the books and put them in the boat. The books were now much heavier than they had been with their former paper contents, and the boys wanted nobody to handle them but themselves. They did not have to fight for this privilege, for Mooloo was only too content to let them handle their burdens alone, and he gave them an occasional glance that had in it something of amused contempt at the store they set on such worthless things.

Still, if these queer people wanted to indulge in such things it was no affair of his as long as he got paid for his trouble. And it may have been the desire to have his pay that made him put especial force in the strokes with which he drove his craft along. Of course he may also have had a desire to see again as soon as possible Mrs. Mooloo and the little Mooloos, but Mooloo was not sentimental.

The boys had arranged with Mooloo to keep right on with them to the little settlement where the simple-hearted Kapje lived. For this they had a double reason. It was nearer the coast and further south where trading vessels would be more likely to touch, and then, too, they felt much safer with Kapje than they did with Mooloo.

The latter had at first hesitated at the proposition, but Bobby removed his objections by promising him double pay.

It was a long trip and a perilous one, for the sea was rough, the ice floes were churning and grinding, and icebergs were numerous. But Mooloo seemed to have a sixth sense that carried him through all dangers and at last they sighted the little settlement that was their destination. They approached it just as Kapje and his son, after a day’s fishing and hunting, were drawing their boat up on the shore.

The latter greeted the lads with as much emotion as Eskimos ever permit themselves to show, and cordially invited them to make their igloo their home as long as they chose. The boys accepted this invitation, the more readily now because they knew that they were in a position to reward their benefactors for all they had done for them.

It seemed almost like home again to be in the simple igloo which had so many associations attached to it as the place where they had been welcomed to safety after that memorable night on the icy seas.

The Eskimo woman greeted them just as warmly as had her husband and son, and soon had set before them a steaming savory meal which they ate with the appetites of famished wolves.

Mooloo, too, took part in the meal and stayed overnight, as it was then too late to think of returning to his own igloo. In the morning, Bobby drew from his pocket some gold pieces and delighted the guide by giving to him three times what he had promised.

As he was preparing to go, a thought struck Bobby.

“That walrus tooth!” he said to Mooloo. That token Takyak sent! Where is it?

“Mooloo got it here,” replied the guide, touching his breast. “Big totem. Good medicine. Bring luck. Mooloo keep it.”

“It brought us luck sure enough,” Bobby thought to himself, “and I’d like to keep it all my life.” Aloud he said: “You want to sell?”

Mooloo’s eyes glistened.

“Mebbe,” he said. “How much?”

Bobby took out three gold pieces.

“More,” said Mooloo.

Bobby made it five.

“More,” said Mooloo.

Bobby shook his head and was about to put the money back in his pocket, but Mooloo grabbed his arm.

“All right,” he said, and the token changed hands.

The first stage of their journey had been accomplished and they had avoided the greatest peril—that of Mooloo’s avarice. They had the books containing the treasure tucked away under a pile of furs in Kapje’s dwelling where they had received only a passing glance and provoked no inquiry.

Now, however, they were faced with the great problem of how to get back home. They were in a perfect fever of impatience. The thought of the misery their families must be enduring was a dagger in their hearts. In the hard work and excitement of their ship-journey and their later adventures they had been able to keep this at bay to some extent. But now they had nothing to do but wait, and the torment was insistent.

So it was with immense relief and rejoicing that a few days later they learned from Kapje that a trading vessel had arrived at a little settlement a few miles further down the coast where it expected to stay a week or so while the captain dickered with the natives. They besieged Kapje with earnest pleas to guide them there.

“All right,” agreed Kapje. “I take to-morrow.”

The delight of the boys knew no bounds. They were up bright and early the following morning, and after warm thanks and farewells to their Eskimo hostess and her son, set off on their journey.

Before they started, Bobby, on behalf of himself and his mates, tried to force some money on Kapje, but the good fellow would have none of it.

“You save my life,” he said simply. “Eskimo not forget. Don’t want money.”

And despite all their urgings, he stuck to his resolution. But the boys were not to be altogether balked, and Bobby took an opportunity when no one was looking to shove a handful of gold pieces in one of the simple utensils of the household where he knew they would not be overlooked for long.

In a little while they arrived at the seacoast settlement, where the first thing that met their sight was a medium-sized schooner riding at anchor a little way off shore. She was a dingy and battered affair, with patched sails and bearing traces of hard usage, but to the hungry eyes of the boys she was more beautiful than the most palatial yacht that ever sailed the seas. For she meant deliverance and civilization and home.

Her skipper, with some of his crew, was on shore trading with a group of natives. He looked up in surprise as he saw approaching the group of boys who, despite their native Eskimo dress, were unquestionably Americans.

“Well, I’ll be hornswoggled!” he exclaimed, as he looked them over, “what have we got here? How did you youngsters ever get up in this forsaken part of the world?”

He was a tall, lanky man who had lost one eye, but the other eye had in it a kindliness and good humor that warmed the boys’ hearts at once. Here evidently was one captain who was not like Captain Garrish.

Bobby, acting as spokesman, told him a little of how they had been put on Captain Garrish’s schooner and frankly how they had left the ship because of the captain’s tyranny and had, almost by a miracle, been rescued by the natives. The captain listened with wonder, wagging his head at different points of the narrative.

“A passel o’ hot-headed youngsters,” he commented, when Bobby had finished. “You had fool’s luck or you wouldn’t have been alive to-day. And now I suppose you want me to take you home?”

“If you only will, Captain,” Bobby pleaded. “We have money enough to pay our fare.”

“Oh, for that matter I’d take you whether you had money or not,” replied the captain. “I’ve got a kid o’ my own at home just about your size. Well, get your duds aboard just as soon as you like, though it will be two or three days before I sail. I’ve got a sort o’ storeroom that can be cleared out so that you can all bunk in it together. Of course I can’t take you all the way home. I hail from Canada and my port is St. John’s, Newfoundland. But from there you can get a steamer that’ll take you down to the States where I bet your folks will be glad to see you.”

It would be difficult to describe the gratitude and rapture of the boys. They thanked the captain with all their hearts, and then set about getting their belongings on the schooner. At a direction from the captain, two of the crew cleared out the old storeroom sufficiently to give them room enough to bestow their goods. There were several rough bunks built along the wall, and while the quarters were very crude they seemed to the boys like heaven.

Some days later the schooner lifted anchor and bore out to sea. It was a happy group of boys that stood on the deck and watched the shore sink below the horizon. Now they were homeward bound, and with every mile that the schooner made in the cold northern seas they were that much nearer to parents and friends and all that made life worth living.

The early days of the voyage were stormy, but the boys by this time were seasoned sailors and stood the tossing as well as the veteran members of the crew. Later the gale abated and became a following wind, before which the vessel made good time, arriving safely at St. John’s sooner than the skipper had expected.

With the heartiest thanks to the good-hearted captain and ample compensation for what they had cost him, the boys went with their belongings to the leading hotel of the town. Then they rushed to the nearest telegraph office and sent messages winging over the wires to their parents.

Bobby telegraphed:

“Safe and well at St. John’s, Newfoundland. Will be home by first steamer. Best love.

The other boys sent similar messages to their parents. What joy, what rapture, those messages caused can be imagined. In a little while came the return messages, almost incoherent, almost sobbing, even over the wire, full of frantic joy and terms of endearment and thanksgiving to God.

Then a little later came telegraphic money orders, for of course the parents of the boys did not know but what they might be stranded and destitute. The money was really unnecessary, but Bobby and his friends were glad to get it just the same, for though gold is always gold and good all over the world, some of the coins were so old, and many of them foreign, as to excite curiosity and remark, and this was the thing above all that the boys wanted to avoid until they should have their treasure safe at home.

They bought new outfits, carefully stowing away the Eskimo suits which they expected to keep as precious souvenirs for the rest of their lives. Then they waited with what patience they could muster for several days before the next steamer sailed for the United States.

The trip was quickly and safely made, and in a few days the boys readied home and were folded in their parents arms.

What occurred in the Blake home was duplicated in all the others. Mrs. Blake cried. Bobby cried. Mr. Blake cried. Meena, the Swedish servant girl, cried. Michael, the Blakes’ old coachman, cried. Everybody cried. They could not help it. There are some joys so deep that only tears can express them.

When at last some semblance of sanity was restored to the household and Bobby for the twentieth time had gone over his adventures in answer to their eager questions, he learned in turn the events that had followed the disappearance of the boys. Investigation had traced them to the railroad junction where they had left their suitcases. The agent had told of their having gone to Bayport to see the circus performance. But at Bayport the clue rested for a while, until the finding of Bobby’s and Fred’s watches in a pawnshop led to the arrest of Lemming and some of his gang on the charge of robbery.

Lemming, on being put through the “third degree,” had wilted and confessed how the boys had been shanghaied and put on Captain Garrish’s schooner. This had relieved some of the agony of the boys’ parents as showing that the boys were probably still alive, though of course they did not know but what they had perished in the hold of starvation. Captain Garrish had not yet returned from his voyage, and the telegrams from St. John’s were the first inklings that the parents had that the boys had survived their perilous adventure.

The treasure which amounted to many thousands of dollars was duly divided and placed in the bank to be at the disposal of the boys when they should reach the age of twenty-one.

A few days after their return, Bobby and Fred were together, and Bobby took from his pocket the walrus tooth that had served as a token.

“Poor old Takyak!” he murmured.

“He was a good old scout,” said Fred.

“Wonder if we’ll ever have any more adventures as stirring as those up north,” mused Bobby.

“I doubt it,” replied Fred.

But many stirring adventures were still to come, and what some of them were will be related in the next volume, to be called: “Bobby Blake on Mystery Mountain; or, The Treasure Chest of Black Rock.”

The boys gazed long at the token, their minds busy with the memories that thronged upon them.

“What would you sell it for?” asked Fred,

“Not for its weight in gold,” replied Bobby.

True stories of life at a modern American boarding school. Bobby attends this institution of learning with his particular chum and the boys have no end of good times. The tales of outdoor life, especially the exciting times they have when engaged in sports against rival schools, are written in a manner so true, so realistic, that the reader, too, is bound to share with these boys their thrills and pleasures.

In the boys’ world of story books, none better than those about boy scouts attract and grip attention. In a most alluring way, the stories in the BOY SCOUT LIFE SERIES tell of the glorious good times and wonderful adventures of the boy scouts.

All the books were written by authors possessed of an intimate knowledge of this greatest of all movements organized for the welfare of boys, and are published with the approval of the National Headquarters of the Boy Scouts of America.

The Chief Scout Librarian, Mr. P. K. Mathiews, writes concerning them: “It is a bully bunch of books. I hope you will sell 100,000 copies of each one, for these stories are the sort that will help instead of hurt our movement.”