"Well, boys, tomorrow we leave the schooner."
It was Tom Farnum who made the announcement over dinner which was eaten
on deck. The boat was anchored offshore, far up the Hare Indian River,
one of the great tributaries of the MacKenzie. How long it was since
they had left Nome none could tell, for in that land of perpetual
daylight it was hard to keep track of time.
"Tomorrow," said big Bob, "when is tomorrow?"
He looked at the sun which was still high, despite the lateness of the
hour, and would make only an ineffectual attempt to dip below the
horizon at midnight, before resuming its upward climb.
Everybody laughed.
"What a topsy turvy land," said Jack. "Well, I, for one, will be glad to
go ashore and stretch my legs. Wonderful as the trip has been so far,
I'm eager to get started."
"Same here," agreed Frank.
Little of moment had occurred to interrupt the monotony of the trip up
the coast and along the northern edge of Alaska and the North American
continent to the mouth of the MacKenzie. Of course, occasional ice floes
had been encountered and the little schooner had been compelled to make
wide detours. But that was to be expected in that Far Northern latitude.
In fact, when they had arrived at the mouth of the MacKenzie, the ice
was only recently dissipated from the great river. There, at a dock
where a little sidewheel steamer that plied on the MacKenzie in Summer
was tied up for repairs, they had replenished their stock of gasoline
and then continued the ascent, passing between willowed banks, where
huddled occasional trading posts surrounded by native villages, with the
snow-capped mountain peaks always in the distance.
Then they had reached the mouth of the Hare Indian River and soon had
put beyond them all appearance of the presence of man.
"This is the way Thorwaldsson's party expected to go," Farnum had said.
"For it was this route which Farrell and Cameron, the two prospectors,
followed on their way in. They were prospecting for gold, you know, had
no idea of finding oil. It was their original intention to strike
northeast across the numerous streams at the head of the Hare Indian in
search of gold. And Farrell reported, when he reached the outside, that
he had found traces and, in fact, several sizable pockets of gold."
Accordingly they pushed on up the Hare Indian a number of days until, in
fact, the extra supplies of gasoline which had been taken aboard on
leaving the MacKenzie dwindled to the point where it became advisable
for the party to go ashore in order that the schooner might turn about
and have sufficient fuel to make its way downstream to the supply depot.
It was a period of time that, in fact, however, could hardly be
considered in terms of days. So far north had the party come that the
sun shone perpetually. It was only at midnight, for a brief space, that
it dipped to the horizon.
And what a gorgeous time it had proven to be for all concerned, but
especially for the boys. As the powerful little schooner forged ahead,
there was not a bend the rounding of which did not afford a surprise.
Sometimes it would be caribou or reindeer, probably an escape from some
Eskimo herd, which would be surprised standing in the water, and
breaking for the timber on the bank at their approach. Again brown bear
would be seen on the bank, or beaver swimming strongly across the
stream. As for fishing, it was an Izaak Walton paradise. All Bob, Frank
and Jack did for hours on end was to lean overside with hooks baited
with bacon rind dangling in the water astern, and pull in speckled
beauties. And many a meal was made, too, on wild duck or geese, picked
off with a light rifle.
Then came the time when Tom Farnum announced that they would stay ashore
on the morrow. And little sleep did the boys have that night, as they
lay awake on deck, whispering to each other, an awning shading them from
the sun.
Early the next morning they went ashore with their outfit, and then
watched the gasoline schooner throb off downstream, around the last
bend, and out of sight. As it disappeared, for the first time there came
to each of the three boys the feeling of isolation natural to their
situation. The last settlement was two hundred miles behind them. They
were going into the great unknown, into the regions marked "Unexplored"
on the maps of that great northern rim of the North American continent.
True, the weather was fine now and the country green and pleasant about
them. But how long would that endure? What if they were beset by
oncoming Winter before they could make their way to the outside? What if
they were attacked by hostile Indians? What obscure fate had met the
Thorwaldsson expedition, traces of which they sought?
Into the mind of each thronged such thoughts, as they stood in unwonted
silence. Then Mr. Hampton called to them.
"No time for day-dreaming. Each man to his job."
With him Tom Farnum had brought two trusted men. They hailed from Nome,
but were old-timers who had been up and down Alaska for many years. Both
were men of forty, sober, steady fellows who would be useful in helping
distribute the burden of packs, and would, moreover, be of inestimable
value in keeping the party supplied with game as well as in almost any
situation that might arise. They were grizzled, weather-beaten men of
medium height, both with stout frames, and because of their long
existence in the lonesome north little given to talking. Their names
were Dick Fairwell and Art Bowman, and they were "Dick" and "Art" to
each other and the other members of the party. The boys had taken a
liking to both.
Two light canoes had been brought along from Nome, lashed to the deck of
the schooner, and in these the seven set out. The boys with Dick
occupied one canoe, the other three men with a larger portion of the
luggage the other.
When everything was in readiness, following a light breakfast on the
bank, the two canoes set out, that containing Farnum, Mr. Hampton and
Art taking the lead. About ten miles upstream a rapids was encountered,
and around this the first portage was made. Then once more they took to
the water.
Day followed day, in this fashion, as they pushed steadily forward,
until almost a week had elapsed. On the fifth day Tom Farnum let out a
whoop of joy and headed his canoe for the right bank of the stream at a
little gravelly beach. His sharp eye had detected a small cairn of
stones on the edge of the brush, and when the others came up with him
and stepped from their craft he was busily demolishing the stones
comprising the mound.
"A marker," was the only explanation he vouchsafed. "Must have been left
by Thorwaldsson. Ah."
At the exclamation he stood upright, holding a small metal box in his
hand. The lid was rusted on, and in his impatience, Farnum whipped out a
knife and gouged it off while the others crowded around him. Inside was
a fold of oilskin, which he ripped open. A folded paper was revealed,
which he opened. Then he read aloud the message thereon.
"It's from Thorwaldsson all right. Listen," he said, and read:
"Please notify Mr. Otto Anderson, Ashland Block, Seattle, Wash., that
I passed here July 2. Party intact with exception of crew sent as he
ordered. Farrell says we are on right track.
"Thorwaldsson."
"What does he mean by that reference to the crew?" asked Jack.
"Well," said Farnum, glancing at Mr. Hampton, "as your father knows,
that is one of the unexplained and puzzling facts of the situation, that
about the ship. You see, a skeleton crew was to be left aboard the ship
and it was to winter in the MacKenzie. But of ship or crew, we have
found no trace. Search for the ship was prosecuted at the first
opportunity this Spring, but it had disappeared. I made a trip up the
MacKenzie myself, but the only information I could gather was an
occasional rumor at a trading post that a schooner had gone by, on its
way out, at night. A ship that might have been the Viking,
Thorwaldsson's craft. That was last Fall. Perhaps, the skeleton crew
feared to winter in the MacKenzie and started for the outside, and was
caught in a storm which it was not sufficiently strong to weather. Only
three or four men were to be left aboard. That is the only explanation I
could think of."
Mr. Hampton nodded.
"As I said before," he stated, "that seems a reasonable explanation.
Three or four men, left alone, might have feared to face the Winter iced
in, or might have been stricken ill, and so, for some reason that
appeared good enough to them, might have decided to violate orders and
start out. As to the disappearance of the ship, many an undermanned
vessel has gone down in a storm, without leaving a trace."
"But, Dad, you've said nothing about this," protested Jack.
Mr. Hampton smiled slightly.
"There are a lot of things which I know I have never told you, Jack," he
said. "If I really have neglected to speak of this, however, it has been
through an oversight. I've had a lot of things on my mind. But, come. We
know this is the way Thorwaldsson passed. We are on the right track. So
let us push on. We have still four hours of travel to do before making
camp."