CHAPTER XIX SHIPS THAT PASS IN THE NIGHT
Much as they regretted it, Joe Marion and Jennings after a night's sleepwere forced to admit that it seemed their duty to push on over the trailleft by the outlaw.
"'Twouldn't be so bad if we hadn't caught Munson's message," said Joethoughtfully. "In a case like this, one is obliged to consider thehighest good to the greatest number. It might easily happen that a delayon our part at this moment would mean the loss of Munson's entire party.It would almost surely mean that if they arrived at Flaxman Island tofind their supply depot in ashes."
"And as for Curlie," added Jennings, "if he came out of that blizzardalive with his rifle in hand, he'll take care of himself, trust him forthat."
"Yes, and with that hind-quarter of caribou meat."
So it was decided that they should press on. They had followed the trailof the outlaw for ten miles or more when they came upon footprints in thesnow beside the trail which seemed to indicate that the outlaw had pausedin his travel.
"Wonder what he stopped there for?" said Jennings, examining the trackscarefully. "From the position of his feet I'd say he'd been looking downthe hill."
"Aw, c'mon," said Joe. "The big point is, he went straight on and we'refollowing."
A hundred yards farther on they came to a place where a reindeer and sledjoined the trail.
"That's queer!" said Jennings, pausing again. "Funny that fellow wouldfollow the outlaw. Looks exactly like the track made by that other fellowwhen he pulled out of that clump of willows after he'd left his deer tiedthere all night and had camped in our thicket. Wonder if it could havebeen the same man."
He would have wondered still more had he known that his companion,Curlie, was on that sled and that each mile he traveled brought himcloser to the curly-haired young radiophone expert.
His wonder did grow apace when, mile after mile, the reindeer driverfollowed the trail of the outlaw.
"Wonder what he's after," he mumbled over and over.
When presently he saw the reindeer tracks suddenly swing to the right anddown the ridge, and by straining his eyes he made out a large herd ofreindeer feeding at the edge of the scrub forest, he was trulydisappointed.
"Thought it meant something," he grumbled, "his following along that way.But I guess he was just following the ridge for good going till he got tohis reindeer herd. We might go down and buy some reindeer meat. I think Isee a cabin at the edge of the forest. They might have other things toeat, coffee, hardtack and the like. Natives often do."
"Can't afford to use up the time," said Joe. "We're doing well enough oncaribou meat. Got quite a supply of it yet. So we'd better mush along.All right, Ginger! Let's go," he shouted. His leader leaped to his feetand they were away.
It would be interesting to speculate on just what would have happened hadthey decided to descend the hill to trade with the natives. They mighthave been ambushed and slain, for Curlie Carson was at that moment in thecabin at the edge of the forest and he was far from free to go his ownway.
So like ships in the night they passed, Curlie Carson and his pals. Onlyonce Jennings paused to look back. Then as he shaded his eyes he said toJoe:
"Seems like I see something hovering up there about the tree tops."
"White owl or raven," said Joe.
"No, I don't think it is. Can't quite make out what it is, though."
Then they pressed on over the trail left by the sleds of the outlaw.
The fluttering above the edge of the forest was caused by neither whiteowl nor raven, but by three balloons bobbing about in the air; a red one,a white one and a blue one. These balloons, considerably larger than toyballoons, were kept from fluttering away by silk cords reaching to thecabin below.
Before we can explain their presence here we must first tell what hadhappened to Curlie Carson since we left him huddled behind a snowbankwith bullets singing over him.
Without knowing why he had been attacked Curlie realized that he was ingrave danger. These rough men, whoever they might be, were apparentlybent on his destruction.
For the moment he was safe. The snowbank was thick and solid. A bullet,he knew, made little progress in snow. But they might outflank him andcome in to the right or left of him. They doubtless believed him to be inpossession of a rifle, or at least an automatic. They would plan theirattack with extreme caution but in time they would get him.
Twisting about under cover he studied the lie of the snow to right andleft of him. It was not reassuring. True, there were other snow ridges,but to reach these he must expose himself. This would not do. To cuthimself a trench along the hillside would take too long. Besides he wouldbe detected in the attempt. He thought of his belt radiophone equipment.
"Might get up a balloon aerial," he told himself, "and send an S. O. S.But that would take time--too much time. Besides, who'd come to myrescue? Deuce of a mess, I'd say!"
He at length determined on a bold move.
"Might get shot down on the spot," he admitted, "but it's better thanwaiting."
The thing he did was to leap suddenly upon the crest of the snowbank withhis hands held high in air, at the same time keeping a sharp eye on theattackers. If they shot he would instantly drop back.
They did not shoot. Their rifles went to their shoulders but when theysaw his hands in air they hesitated.
After a brief consultation, two of them, with rifles extended before themfor a hip-shot, walked slowly toward him.
When they were within twenty yards of him Curlie said in the calmest tonehe could command:
"What's the matter with you fellows? I didn't steal your reindeer. Foundhim tangled in a thicket where he would have starved. Besides, I have noguns. What harm could I do you?"
Without a word the two men proceeded to advance. As they came closerCurlie became convinced that they were Indians and not Eskimos as he hadsupposed them to be.
"That makes it look different," he told himself. "They may be reindeerrustlers who have stolen the reindeer herd. Probably are. Never heard ofa reindeer herd being given to Indians. Might have, for all that. Or theymay be just herding them for some white men."
As the two men came up to him one man felt of his clothing for concealedweapons. After this, with a grunt, he pointed toward the cabin, then ledthe way, leaving his companion to bring up the rear.
Arrived at the edge of the forest, the foremost man joined the man whohad remained behind. After a short consultation in tones too low to beunderstood, he returned to Curlie and again motioning him to follow, ledhim to a low log cabin.
Once inside this cabin, he pushed Curlie into a small dark room, afterwhich he swung to a heavy door and dropped a ponderous bar.
"Well now, what about that?" Curlie whispered to himself.
A hasty survey of his prison revealed a chair and a rough bed made ofpoles on which there rested some filthy blankets. The place was lightedby two windows, not more than ten inches square. The walls were of heavylogs.
"I wonder who they are and who they think I am," he asked himself.
He sat down to think and as he did so his arm brushed his belt. At thatmoment an inspiration came to him.
"Worth trying anyway," he whispered as he rose hastily. "Have to be quickabout it though. Lucky that window's at the back of the cabin."