THE MYSTERY
Alex and Ike had to be told of the loss of food and also that Bill and
Jud were likely lurking in the neighborhood. No mention was made to
them, however, of the discoveries Case had made.
It was a gloomy little group after Clay had finished his tale. A winter
in the Arctic was to be dreaded at its best, but with little food on
hand and no potatoes, it was a horrible thing to meet. It was Clay who
tried to enthuse a little cheerfulness into the grim situation. "We've
got to face it, boys," he said, "and it's going to be hard to do, but we
are going to make bad matters worse if we just sit and brood on it. I
believe that we are going to come out of this all right. The main thing
to do is to keep cheerful and keep busy. Let's go on with our trading
just as if nothing had happened, except that we will not only buy furs,
but also meat whenever we get the chance. Perhaps we may be able to get
a few potatoes at the Catholic Mission. They may have laid enough in to
spare us a few. Alex, you and Ike had better, in the morning, overhaul
all the stores and see just what we have left and how best to portion it
off so as to make it last. Case and I have a little job on of our own to
attend to. We will tell you about it later on. Now let's turn in and go
to sleep, each one determining that he is never going to worry over
anything until it actually happens to him. Half the time the things we
fear never happen. Long brooding over fears makes a coward and I believe
even the Lord himself despises a coward. Good night, you fellows. I'm
going to sleep."
He and Case were early astir in the morning and stole out of the cabin
softly so as not to awaken the sleepers. It was still dark, but the
stars were shining like glimmering lanterns hung far above their heads
and the black mass of the towering mountain rose dimly from its white
carpeted base to serve them as a mighty guide post pointing out their
way. By the time the two boys rounded the mountain's base and entered
the cove beyond, the dim twilight had driven the darkness to flight and
they easily found the little cabin nestling up against the mountain
side. Theirs was a gruesome task and they went to work at it with
reluctant hands. The ground was too firmly frozen to dig a grave so they
did the best they could. They carried the gruesome object up to the foot
of a big wide-spread spruce and laid it down. Then they covered it with
a thick layer of fragrant spruce boughs; upon this mound they leaned up
some loose planks and around the whole built up a mound of stones to
protect the one beneath from hunger-maddened wolves. This task done they
skirted the edge of the cove, looking for any trace of other human
habitation along its shore. Both had felt that their enemies might be
camped in this very cove but their search pretty well convinced them
that this was not so likely. "There's no telling where they may be now,"
Case said. "To look for them in this great, desolate frozen country
would be like looking for a needle in a hay stack. They may be camped
within a mile of us, or, again, they may be hundreds of miles away by
now. Our trouble is that we do not know just when the stuff was taken
and we can find no tracks that tell which way the thieves went. Better
give it up. We have got a lot to do before the real winter sets in. We
ought to start in tomorrow and begin our trading in earnest. We want a
lot more furs and most of all we need meat, all we can get of it. It
will keep all winter. We may not be fit to work later on," he concluded
significantly.
"You're right," Clay agreed reluctantly. "We will start out tomorrow for
the next village. But all the same," he added, "I have a feeling that
those fellows are near us now just waiting for a good chance to get at
Ike. One of us two must always stay behind. Two are enough to go with
the team anyway. The other two, with Captain Joe on watch, had ought to
take care of themselves and the boat all right. Well, we can do nothing
more here. We had better get back to the _Rambler_ before the boys get
too curious and come hunting us up."
They found a hot breakfast awaiting them and the boys finished the
computing of the _Rambler's_ stores, a process which Ike with pencil and
paper in hand, was enjoying hugely.
"This committee finds," he announced, "that if we all eats like Alex
here there is plenty of food for two months yet. If we eats only enough
to live on there be food for four months, maybe. If we feed the dogs
Indian fashion, just a little at a time, you understand, there will be
quite a lot of salmon left for us. That is all, I think, gentlemen,
except the dogs. But Alex here says he will shoot any one who touches
Buck and I do the same for Captain Joe, for he helps save my life one
time, you understand."
Clay laughed. "Why, we are not near so bad off as I expected," he said,
brightly. "Almost anything can happen in two months. I've got a hunch
boys, that everything is going to turn out all right. Let's keep on full
rations for two weeks more, then we can cut down gradually if we see we
need to. We had better give the dogs their double rations while they are
working and cut it down to the usual feed when they are idle. Now let's
put the stores back where they belong and wash up the dishes and then go
out and cut up firewood. This fine weather is not going to last forever.
There are going to be days when no one will hanker to go out in the cold
and chop wood. Better get up a good pile now when we have the time." The
boys knocked off work at sunset, and after they had finished their
evening meal, Clay brought out from his locker a pack of cards, a
checker board, and a chess board with its queens and pawns. "Lucky I
thought to bring these," he said. "They will help to pass the time.
Let's have a game and then turn in, for Case and Ike will have to get an
early start in the morning." The boys made merry over the game that
followed, but deep down in each young heart was the creeping dread of
that scourge of the Northland, scurvy. Clay expressed it when he said,
thoughtlessly, "We had ought to save those few potatoes for Christmas.
We want to have a special feast Christmas day."
Case and Ike were gone for three days, but they came back with a pack of
fine furs and over a half of a frozen moose.
The next trip, made by Clay and Alex, was more daring. They were gone
ten days and brought back all the meat the sled could carry. But their
faces were grave. At Holy Cross there was not a potato--which had been
their real object in making the trip. Forty were helpless with the
disease and more coming down every day with it. Indians who had come
down from Dawson lately, reported that their weight in gold dust was
being offered for potatoes with no takers. From St. Michael's came like
reports. At Nome there were plenty, but no one could cross the heaving
seas of ice floes that separate it from St. Michael's.
That was the team's last trip. For news of the boy traders, who paid so
liberally for what they bought, spread from village to village and they
did not have to seek trade. It came to them. Hardly a day passed without
seeing at the _Rambler's_ door a sled load of meat or furs. The boys
erected a scaffolding near the _Rambler_ up above the reach of the dogs
and it was soon full of frozen meat, while the packs of furs in the
_Rambler_ were fast filling up the cabin to the point of inconvenience.
All the traders brought stories of the ravages of the scurvy in the
villages they had come from the secret dread in the boys' hearts grew.
One morning, after two days of steady snow, they awoke to find the earth
deeply covered with white. Their thermometer hung outside, registering
sixty degrees below zero, while over river and land was the quietness of
death.
The Great White Silence, about which they had heard so much, had come.
It seemed almost evil to speak aloud in the breathlessness of this
death-like quietness. As the days passed, it bore down on the lads'
souls until they sat silent for hours at a time. But deeper than the
fear of the White Silence was that deeper menace hanging over them and
daily growing closer.
"What's the use of our trying to hide it?" Case demanded one morning.
"We have all got it, I guess, and each one is trying to keep it from the
others. Open up your mouth, Clay," Clay silently obeyed. His gums,
palate, and tongue were black and swollen. "Humph," got it hard," Case
grunted. "Abe, you next." The lad obeyed, and showed a mouth pink and
clean as a baby's. "You're all right," Case announced. "Now for you,
Alex." "Worse than Clay's," Case said, frankly. "Ike, step up and let me
see your tongue. Why, you have only got the first symptoms," he said,
"just a touch of white on your gums and palate." His own condition he
did not need to state. His blackened, swollen lips told the tale. By
some whim of nature, the disease had chosen the strongest for its first
victims, and, having chosen, it proceeded with hideous rapidity. Within
a week Clay, Alex and Case were helpless in their bunks. Ike was also
breaking down, not from the disease, which seemed to take but slight
hold of him, but from the groans and sufferings of his chums which he
was powerless to relieve. Weary and sick at heart, one morning he left
Abe in charge of the sufferers and skirting the edge of the ice with
aimless steps, rounded the base of the mountain. Here he stopped with a
look of interest. A curl of smoke was filtering up from a thick clump of
cottonwoods. He stared at it thoughtfully for a minute, then wheeling
suddenly, hastened back to the boat from which, presently, emerged Abe
clothed in parka and snow shoes and bearing something white, tightly
clenched in one small hand, as he skimmed over the crusted snow.
Black night had fallen when the Yukon Kid caught sight of the
_Rambler's_ lights glimmering in the cove. They meant warmth, light,
food and a bed for the night for him, and he spurred his weary dogs on
to a fresh burst of speed which soon landed them in the lee of the
_Rambler_. Hastily unhitching, he flung a fish from his pack to each of
the hungry animals. Then clambering aboard, he flung open the cabin door
with boisterous words of greeting on his lips, but they died unspoken as
his keen eyes swept the little room, taking in everything in one glance,
the three muttering boys in their bunks, and the little Esquimau busy
making up raw potatoes into juicy pulp. The lad's face was marked by
tears as he looked at the Kid.
"Plenty sick?" asked the Kid, pointing to the muttering lads.
"Yes. Heap scurvy."
The Kid glanced at the vacant bunk.
"Fadder dead?"
"No dead," said the boy. "Get potatoes this afternoon. Big men come. He
and fadder trade. Fadder gets potatoes. Big man get fadder. All in paper
there," pointing to a folded note beside the heap of potatoes.
The Kid grabbed it up and opening it with ruthless hands, read:
"Dear boys:--I hope these potatoes help you all to get well quick. I
gets them off them two loafers, Jud and Bill. I sent Abe as messenger to
them this morning and Bill he comes over and talks it over with me, and
we trade. A bushel of potatoes for me. I think he's a robber, you
understand. I don't think he brings more than three pecks of the
potatoes. I goes back with him. I expect I no see you any more, so
good-bye boys. I'm sorry I make you so much trouble. With love, Ike."
"I wants my share of the furs to go to Rebecca, you understand. Abe, he
shall have the news stand. Tell him lots of love from fadder. Ike."
"If you don't let them dealers in Seattle rob you, you should get
$10,000 at least for them furs. Ike."
The Kid's eyes raced over this farewell will and testament.
"You know where they take fadder?" he demanded of the mourning lad.
Abe nodded.
"Then get on your snow shoes and come with me," the Kid commanded.
In a minute they were on the trail, the little Esquimau lad leading. A
scant half mile of rapid traveling carried them into the cove and in
sight of the gleaming light of the fire amongst the cottonwoods. Now
they advanced more cautiously, trying to stop the creak of their snow
shoes on the sugar-like snow. Luckily those around the campfire were too
busy with their own affairs to notice the stealthy approach. Close to
the fire lay Ike tightly bound while beside him knelt the evil-faced
Bill applying a smoking iron to the lad's bare feet. A sickening odor of
burnt skin was filling the air, while the torturer was snarling: "Tell,
you brat, or I'll burn you to the bone."
The Yukon Kid raised his heavy revolver and took steady aim, but
something was quicker than he. A giant form leaped out from the
cottonwoods upon the kneeling man. He was lifted up like a feather and
dashed with the snap of breaking bones against a near-by tree.
"The b'ar. He's killed Bill," roared Jud's mighty voice, as he leaped
forward with drawn knife. The bear met him half-way with extended arms.
Once the upraised knife was buried in the bear's white side, then man
and beast, locked in a mighty struggling embrace. The Kid watched them,
fascinated, as they struggled back and forth. Only a minute the struggle
lasted, then something in the man snapped sickeningly and he hung limply
in the bear's embrace, then swaying from side to side, the bear let go
his burden to the ground and slipped slowly down beside it, his paws
plucking feebly at the knife sticking in his side. When the Kid reached
the two, both bear and man were dead.
Bill lay where he had been flung, his evil heart stilled forever. Ike,
still lying by the fire, was in a dead faint.
Silently the Kid picked up the lad and turned back for the _Rambler_.