THE SECRET TOKEN
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.”