CHAPTER II.
NORTHWARD HO!
It was hardly surprising that the ship-news reporter had instantlyrecognized the Bungalow Boys when he heard their names. Their exploitsin many quarters had received numerous columns of newspaper space,much to their amusement. The clever manner in which they had broken upforever the operations of the gang of counterfeiters in the SawmillValley, as related in the first volume of this series, "The BungalowBoys," had brought them before the public. Further interesting "copy"had been made by their wonderful adventures in search of a sunkentreasure galleon. Readers of this series were given full details ofthat adventurous voyage on the surface and below the ocean, in thesecond volume dealing with our young friends' experiences, which wascalled "The Bungalow Boys Marooned in the Tropics."
In the third volume we followed them throughout their venturesomedoings in the northwest. "The Bungalow Boys in the Great Northwest"showed how pluck and self-reliance can win out even against such acombination as the boys found in the "Chinese runners." The fourthvolume dealt with their voyage on the Great Lakes. The mysteries ofCastle Rock Island, the ways of the wreckers who captured the lads,and the daring manner in which the boys escaped from the ruinedlighthouse, all were set forth in the book in question, which bore thetitle, "The Bungalow Boys on the Great Lakes."
Now the Bungalow Boys found themselves setting forth on a voyage tothe Northland on board a fine, staunch steamer. That adventures andpossibly perils lay ahead of them they could not doubt; but just whatthe object of the voyage was, had not been revealed to them.
Tom had stuck to the strict truth when he told the reporter that hedid not know anything about the voyage. His uncle had merely invitedJack and himself to take a "sea voyage." At the lad's solicitation,Sandy had been allowed to make one of the party. Of course, the boyswould not have been taken from their studies to make this trip, butthe headmaster of the academy that they all attended had been takenvery ill a short time before and the school had been temporarilyclosed.
The pilot had been dropped and the _Northerner_ was in free sea room,forging ahead through the great swells of the ocean. The steamerappeared oddly silent. There were no passengers rushing about, nobustle and confusion. The voyage had begun as unobtrusively as thedeparture from the dock. The small crew moved about under thedirection of a mate, setting things to rights, coiling ropes andmaking everything snug. On the bridge were Captain Goodrich and Mr.Dacre. Presently a third person joined them--a man of massive buildwith crisply curling hair and a big beard. This was ColtonChillingworth, the rancher friend of Mr. Dacre, whose Washington ranchhad formed the scene of some of the boys' most exciting adventures inthe northwest.
"Where are we headed for?" asked Jack, as the three lads stood at thestern of the steamer watching the white wake that was rolling outwardfrom the vessel's counter at a twelve-knot gait.
"Bang for the Straits of San Juan de Fuca. I heard the captain tellthe pilot so when we dropped him," replied Tom.
On one side of the steamer were the picturesque, snow-capped Selkirks,on the other the Olympics, calm and majestic in the afternoon light.Along the shore were small settlements fringing the deep woods. Aboveall towered Mount Rainier, sharply chiseled against the sky. Thepearly whiteness of its eternal snow-cap glistened in the sunlightlike a field of diamonds.
Broken at intervals by cliffs of chalk, white or dark brown stone,immense forests of somber green fir and cedar stretched from the hillsalmost to the water's edge. Here and there a cascading stream like asilver thread could be seen dashing its troubled way down the steepmountainside. It was a beautiful, impressive sight, and the boys feltit so as they gazed. But uppermost in their minds was the question ofthe object of the trip, of its destination. In this regard they werenot to be left long in the dark.
"And after the Straits?"
The question came from the Scotch boy.
"Northward, I guess, to Alaska. That's positively all we know," camefrom Jack.
"Awell, we're entitled to a guess, I ken," hazarded Sandy. "Suppose weare going pole hunting?"
"What!"
"Looking for the north pole," responded the other stoutly, while Tomand Jack exploded with laughter.
"Nonsense," said Tom. "Uncle Chisholm has too much sound common senseto go off on a wild goose chase like that."
"Anyhow, the pole has been found," quoth Jack in tones of finality.
"You can be sure of one thing at least," put in Tom; "whatever we areafter, the whole expedition has been carefully thought out. Thatsteamer on the upper deck, for instance."
"She's all in numbered sections to be put together when we get ready,"said Jack. "Doesn't that suggest something to you?"
"How do you mean?" questioned Tom in his turn.
"Just this. In my opinion, we are going to ascend some river."
"But what for?"
"Ah! that's just what we shan't know till they choose to tell us."
"Hoot, mon," exclaimed Sandy, "gie ower guessing! We'll ken all abootit in gude time. In the meanwhile, we're three mighty lucky boys tohave a chance to make such a trip."
"Them's my sentiments," coincided Tom heartily.
They looked seaward. The air had a sharp brisk tang in it, a veritablesea tonic that braced and invigorated. The waves were choppy and asthe _Northerner_ steamed onward through them, from time to time aglistening cloud of spray was hurled high above her sharp bow. Fromher funnel poured a column of wind-whipped black smoke, showing thatcoal was not being spared to drive her along at her best gait.
"Oh, but this is great!" exclaimed Jack, pulling off his cap andletting the wind blow through his tousled hair.
"One thing is certain, this is no idle cruise. There's an object init," said Tom, "and I reckon that we boys are due to play a part inwhatever enterprise is on hand."
"Well, I hope we make good, whatever it is," said Jack.
"Nae fear o' that," spoke up Sandy confidently.
The _Northerner_ arose on a higher swell than usual, and then with asidewise motion settled glidingly down into a watery hollow, risingthe next instant on the crest of another roller. Her masts swept thesky in broad arcs. All at once Sandy released his hold on the rail andslid half across the deck before he brought up. His face had suddenlygrown very pale. His freckles stood out on it in bright relief.
"What's the matter?" demanded Jack, noticing the woe-begone expressionof his friend's face.
"Um?" inquired Sandy. "Matter? Naething's the matter, mon. O-h-h-h-h!"
"Seasick, eh? That's the last meal you ate ashore. I warned youagainst all that pie."
Sandy shuddered.
"Don't talk of pie," he groaned.
Just as Tom was about to suggest that Sandy go to his stateroom andlie down for a while, the second mate approached them.
"You young gentlemen are to go to the charthouse. Mr. Dacre says hehas something to tell you."
The boys exchanged glances. Even Sandy forgot his woes in the interestaroused by this communication. The officer walked on aft while Tomexclaimed in a low tone:
"At last we'll find out where we are bound, and what for. Come on,Jack."
"How about me?" inquired Sandy.
"Thought you were seasick."
"I was," rejoined Sandy, "but, mon, I feel grond again. If Mr. Dacreis going to talk, I'm a weel boy the noo."