IN THE CAVE
With a swift motion the Indian ran to the sled containing, among other
things, the food for the dogs. He burrowed beneath the fur coverings,
that were firmly lashed down, to prevent the animals eating all their
supplies at one meal, and brought out several frozen fish. Now the
Alaskan dog loves fish above everything else, and when Holfax had tossed
several on the snow, there was a mad rush of the shaggy, wolf-like
creatures to secure some.
Even those dogs crowded around the one that had the map-case, ceased
worrying him, and bolted to get a share of the good things so
unexpectedly cast before them. The rush, and the sight of the fish, was
too much for the canine thief. He dropped the map, and made a bolt for
the fish.
"Now git um," said Holfax, and Johnson, who was nearest, rushed forward
and secured the precious document.
"Is it injured?" asked Fred, as Mr. Baxter began to examine it.
"No, I think not. I'll have to be more careful in the future. That dog
nearly ate a fortune."
Stowing the map securely away, Mr. Baxter helped the boys and Johnson
strike the tent, and load the sleds for that day's trip. It was not as
cold as it had been during the night, but there was a feeling of snow in
the air.
"Git plenty bad storm quick soon," remarked Holfax, as he again fastened
the coverings on the provision sled.
"Do you think we had better start then?" asked Mr. Baxter.
"Bad here--bad there," replied the Indian, with a sweep of his arm
toward the distant mountain range. "Bad all over--plenty bad--bad
go--bad stay."
"Then as long as we're going to be in for it one way or the other, we
might as well start. Come, boys, are you ready?"
"All ready, dad," mumbled Jerry from the depths of his fur collar.
"How about you, Fred?"
"My sled is all ready."
"Then we'll start."
The long whips cracked, Holfax gave his Indian yell to the dogs, they
settled into their harness, and once more the sleds were being pulled
northward. The dogs seemed to be in better humor after their unexpected
meal of frozen fish, and they hauled well together.
It was a bleak and cheerless landscape that lay before the travelers.
The vast snow-covered plain stretched out before them, and, at their
backs, was the desolate, black wilderness. Only the hope of gold kept
their hearts stout.
Over the hard crust scurried the dogs, their toe-nails scratching the
hard ice. Occasionally they yelped or barked, probably in protest at
being made to haul such heavy loads. But Holfax kept them at their
tasks.
As they advanced the day became dreary in the extreme. The sun was
hidden by misty clouds, and the wind was cold and cutting. Then a few
fine flakes of snow sifted down.
"Storm come," remarked Holfax, tightening the robes about him.
"Guess you're right," admitted Mr. Baxter. The moisture in the air,
which preceded the storm, had, with his breath, condensed on his beard,
and about his mouth was a ball of snow, as large as his two fists. He
actually had to crush it off his beard before he could speak.
Then with a sudden fury the snow came down in a blinding cloud. Only the
fact that the four dog teams were fastened together by a long piece of
deer hide prevented them from becoming separated in the fog of frozen
crystals.
"Can Holfax see to guide us?" shouted Fred, above the howl of the wind.
"I guess so," answered Mr. Baxter. "We'll have to trust to him, anyhow."
It was the worst weather they had yet met with, and it was all the
Indian could do to induce the dogs to continue. It needed the spur of
his long whip, and his angry voice, calling to them in strange words, to
keep them on the trot.
At last even the hardened Indian had to give it up. It was almost
certain death to face that blast from the north any longer.
"Got to camp!" shouted Holfax, above the roar of the gale, and he began
to unharness the dogs.
It was desperate work to get the tent up, but they managed to do it, and
also to build a roaring fire of logs which the Indian dug out from under
the snow with one of the shovels that had been brought along. Then, in
the combined shelter of the tent and the upturned sleds, with a big pot
of hot tea and some sizzling bacon, the gold hunters tried to forget
their hardships.
But it was not easy to do, and there were grave apprehensions that night
whether they would not be frost-bitten before morning. The storm
continued all the next day, and it was impossible to proceed. The dogs
were buried from sight in big snowdrifts, and Holfax had one hand
slightly frozen in digging them out to give them a feed of fish.
But troubles cannot last so very long at a time, and on the morning of
the third day the sun came out once more.
"Forward!" cried Mr. Baxter. "We are nearing the place, Fred. In a
couple of days we ought to be able to tell whether we are on a
wild-goose chase or not."
They crossed the big plain by the next night, and camped at the foot of
the mountain range where the gold was supposed to be buried. Mr. Baxter
consulted the map, and thought they had come very close to the trail
down which Stults had made his way to the settlement, where he had
related his strange story.
By daylight Mr. Baxter's views were confirmed by Holfax, who closely
examined the map. There was to be seen a tracing of a vast ravine, near
which the party had made camp, and this ravine was one of the landmarks
by which the place was known. Several expeditions, seeking the gold, had
gotten thus far, but when they penetrated the mountains they lost all
traces. Either the map was wrong, or they did not properly follow the
directions. Would these fortune hunters have any better luck?
Breakfast was hurriedly eaten, the dogs harnessed, and a start made.
Travel had to be very slow now, and it was necessary for the adventurers
to walk beside the sleds, as the dogs could not pull the passengers and
the heavy loads up the steep, snow-covered mountain.
They reached a shoulder of the incline, and stopped to rest. Here Mr.
Baxter consulted the map again.
"I think we had better bear off more to the left," he said. "It looks as
if there was a stream there, but it's frozen over."
Holfax agreed with him. It was now quite certain they were at least on
part of the very ground mapped out by Stults. But whether they were near
the hidden treasure was another question.
They followed the course of the stream as nearly as they could with the
sleds, and, after a toilsome climb found themselves on a sort of level
place.
"Doesn't look as though we were going to find a waterfall around here,"
remarked Mr. Baxter.
"It certainly does not," added Jerry.
Fred felt his heart sinking. They had come far enough, according to the
map, to be at the fall, but there was no sign of It. Was the story all a
myth? Was there no waterfall, no cave, no gold?
Fred went a little way ahead. As he turned a place where a big ledge of
rock jutted out, hiding what was behind from view, he uttered a cry.
"What's the matter?" asked Mr. Baxter, hurrying up, thinking the lad had
been hurt.
"The waterfall!" cried Fred. "There it is, frozen solid! See!"
And so it was. The great cold had solidified, into fantastic shapes, the
falling water, until it looked like nothing but a vast ledge of ice,
with great columns, like spears, hanging down here and there.
"Now for the cave!" cried Fred, hurrying forward. "It must be at one
side of the fall."
Mr. Baxter, Fred, and Jerry hastened forward, while Holfax and Johnson
remained behind to look after the dogs, that seemed to develop a sudden
wild desire to run away.
It was hard climbing, over the piled-up masses of frozen water, and
great icicles, but the gold-seekers managed it. Mr. Baxter was in the
lead. He passed across a frozen pool, into which, during what summer
there was in that cold region, the waters of the cataract fell, and
then, with a loud shout, he pressed forward.
The boys, close at his heels, saw him headed toward a dark opening. They
hurried to join him.
"The cave!" cried Fred. "It's the cave where Stults hid his treasure!"
Mr. Baxter was just at the entrance. As he was about to pass under the
icy ledge, there was an ominous crackling overhead. Fred looked up. To
his horror he saw a great icicle, that had become detached from the mass
at the frozen waterfall, come toppling straight down toward where Mr.
Baxter was standing, he having hesitated a moment to look into the black
interior of the cavern.
"Look out!" cried Fred. "Go into the cave!" Mr. Baxter comprehended his
danger. He took a step forward, but, just then, his foot slipped, and he
fell.
The great mass of ice, sharp as a spear, and weighing a ton or more, was
falling straight down on the prostrate man, as if to transfix him.