ANOTHER LOST "BULLDOG"
The step outside the cabin door halted, and the boys stood silent for a
moment, hardly knowing whether to dispute the stranger's entrance or to
admit him with a show of courtesy.
While they waited, Will glanced at the window and saw the flutter of a
white hand on the pane.
"That's the Boy Scout salute!" he said.
"Another Boy Scout?" whispered Sandy. "I wonder if it rains Boy Scouts
up here in Alaska!"
"I wish there were a thousand here!" George declared.
"I don't care how many Boy Scouts show up just now," Will argued, "but I
would like to know where they all come from!"
There now came a knock on the door and a gruff voice demanded
admittance.
"Shall I open the door?" whispered Will.
"May as well," answered George.
When the door swung open, a stout man of middle age presented himself in
the opening. After casting a keen glance about the interior he stepped
inside and closed the door.
"You boys seem to have taken possession of my home!" he said.
"We found the cabin unoccupied, and took the liberty of using it," Will
answered in a conciliatory tone.
"Oh, it's all right!" returned the other. "That's the way I took
possession of the place! I found the cabin deserted and just moved in."
"We can vacate if necessary," Will suggested.
"Oh, there's room enough for all of us, I take it!" answered the
stranger. "My name is Cameron, and I spend only a day or two here
occasionally. I was hoping when I saw your light that you were having a
midnight supper. How about something to eat?"
"There's plenty in the cabin!" George replied. "We can give you either
fish or bear steak for supper."
"Then I'm glad to find you here!" laughed the other, "for I've been
traveling all day and I'm as hungry as a wolf!"
The visitor threw himself into a chair and began a careful survey of the
interior, far more searching than the one made from the doorway.
"My name is Cameron, as I said before," he said, "and I'm prospecting
for gold."
"Prospecting for gold on a glacier?" asked Will.
"Young man," Cameron replied, "there is plenty of gold in this vicinity.
The ice brought it here. I'm being laughed at by my friends," he
continued, "because I'm searching for the mother lode. But, all the
same, I've every prospect of discovering it!"
"The mother lode in a glacier?" asked Sandy.
"It is my theory," Cameron went on, "that the range of mountains to the
north holds gold in large quantities. It is a part of my theory, too,
that the drifting ice brought tons of it down to the moraine. If I find
any gold here at all, I'll find it in quantities sufficient to clog the
money markets of the world!"
Cameron looked from face to face as he spoke, apparently anticipating a
burst of enthusiasm from his listeners.
"Up on the Yukon," he went on, "the gold was found under the ice, where
it had been deposited by glaciers which are now dead. The same
conditions exist here. For all we know, there may be tons of the
precious metal at the bottom of the first layer of ice."
"That's very true!" replied Will. "And if you don't mind, we'll stick
around a short time and see what you discover."
"Remember," Cameron said then, "that this is my claim!"
"Of course," Will answered, "we wouldn't attempt to rob you of any
legitimate discovery."
In the meantime George and Sandy were preparing a supper for the
visitor. With their heads bent low over the gasoline "plate," they
discussed the personality of the man and his theory in low conversation.
"How tall should you say that fellow was?" asked Sandy.
"About five foot six!" was the reply.
"And he's stout!"
"Decidedly so."
"And he wears a leather hunting shirt, and leather leggings, and he took
off a pair of serviceable leather gloves when he entered?"
"I see what you're getting at," George replied, "Can you see whether
there's a buckle missing from his leggings?"
"There is!" answered Sandy.
"And a patch missing from his hunting shirt?"
"Just as sure as you're a foot high!"
"Did you ever see such nerve?" whispered George. "He comes here and
steals a sick boy, and then has the nerve to return and claim the
cabin!"
"Well, I'm glad he came," Sandy whispered back. "All we've got to do now
is to play the sleuth when he leaves the cabin."
"You mean that if we follow him in his journeys over the country we'll
be apt to find Bert?" asked George.
"That's just the idea!" replied Sandy. "I wonder if his mug is sore
where Bert extracted the whiskers?"
"I wonder if he expects to get a good night's sleep, with Bert lying in
some uncomfortable hiding place?" George asked. "I'd like to poke him in
the mug, just for luck!"
"That wouldn't help us find Bert," Sandy cautioned. "We've just got to
be good to him and follow him wherever he goes."
"Watch me put him off his guard," George suggested.
"How long have you been in this neighborhood?" he asked, turning to
Cameron. "I ask," the boy continued, "because one of our chums wandered
away from the cabin while we were out fishing and hasn't returned."
Cameron's eyes sought the floor for a moment.
"I have just returned from the coast," he said, "so, unless your friend
strayed off in that direction, I wouldn't have caught sight of him. Do
you mean that he strayed away in the darkness?" he asked.
"No," replied George, "he strayed away this afternoon while temporarily
out of his mind. My friends were out fishing, and I was asleep at the
time. He received a slight wound on the head, from a fall, not long ago,
and that is probably the cause of his aberration of mind."
The boys thought they saw a sudden expression of satisfaction creep over
Cameron's face as George finished his explanation.
"If you'll serve Mr. Cameron's supper," Sandy said, giving George a sly
wink, "I'll go with Will, and we'll take different directions so as to
cover more ground. We are getting anxious about Bert."
Of course the object of the boys in leaving the cabin was to meet the
Boy Scout who had signalled to them from the window. When they turned
the corner of the cabin, they found a thin, pale lad in a torn and faded
khaki uniform leaning against the outer wall.
"Why don't you come in?" asked Will.
"Is the miner in there yet?" asked the boy.
"Yes, he says the cabin belongs to him, and he's going to remain all
night! What do you know of him?"
"Nothing at all!" replied the boy, "except that I've been following him
for half a dozen miles in the hopes that he would lead me to some place
where I could eat and sleep."
"Did you call out to him?" asked Will.
"No," was the answer. "I was afraid he would send me back if I did.
Miners in this section are not fond of leading strangers to their
claims."
"Where do you belong?" asked Sandy pointing to the Bulldog badge
displayed on the boy's ragged coat.
"Bulldog Patrol, Portland," was the reply.
"How'd you get out into this country in such a plight?" asked Will.
"My chum and I," was the reply, "started out to seek our fortunes. We
got to Katalla and couldn't get a thing to do. Sam--his name is Sam
White--insisted on remaining in town, but I made a break for the
country."
"How long since you've had anything to eat?" asked Sandy.
"About twenty-four hours," was the reply.
"Well, come on in, then, and we'll feed you up."
"Of course I'll go, now that I know that you are running the camp,"
replied the boy. "I suppose I should have gone in anyway, directly, for
just as I came up I heard the man knocking at the door. I was still
afraid I'd get kicked out if I put in an appearance at any miner's cabin
and asked for food, but I should have risked it."
"I didn't know that miners did such things," Sandy observed.
"Some of them do, and some of them don't," replied the boy.
"You haven't given us your name yet," suggested Will.
"Ed Hannon," was the reply.
"Well come on in the cabin, Ed Hannon," laughed Sandy, "and we'll fill
you up, but you mustn't say a word about having seen that miner, and if
he talks to you about the route by which you approached the cabin lie
like a thief! Which way did he come from, anyway?"
"He came from the west," was the reply. "I plumped into him not far from
one of the little rivulets which joins Copper river not very far away."
"There!" said Sandy. "Now I guess we've got something tangible."