Having brought their game around to the shed attached to the cabin, the boys were glad enough to rest before the generous fire, while Professor Jeffer proceeded to cut out some choice moose meat, having been requested by Barwell Dawson to do so.
“The moose is yours,” Mr. Dawson said to the boys. “But I must have at least one steak, although it may be rather tough.”
“You can have as much as you like,” answered Chet. “I don’t think Andy wants it all, and I am sure I don’t.”
Darkness was settling down once more around the cabin, when Andy chanced to think of the papers concerning the land claim in Michigan. He had placed them in an inside pocket of his jacket, and now he inserted his hand to bring them forth, to make certain that they were safe.
“Oh!” he cried, and his heart began to beat wildly.
“What’s the matter?” queried Chet, who was near. “Hurt?”
“The papers!”
“What of them?”
“They are gone!”
“Gone?” repeated Chet, and now Professor Jeffer and Barwell Dawson listened with interest.
“Yes, gone—I can’t find them anywhere.” Andy rapidly went through every pocket in his clothing, and in the overcoat he had hung on a horn. “Yes, they are gone,” he groaned. “Oh, this is the worst luck yet!”
“But they must be somewhere around,” said Barwell Dawson. “Have you any idea where you dropped them?”
“No, although it might have been when I took that tumble in the snow.”
“If you lost ’em there, we ought to go back for ’em right away,” declared Chet. “The wind is rising, and that will drift the snow over ’em.”
A vain search was made around the cabin and the shed, and then, tired as he was, Andy donned his overcoat and cap to go out. Chet did the same.
“Oh, you needn’t mind, Chet,” said Andy.
“I just will mind, Andy. We are going to get those papers back,” was the brisk reply.
“Here, take a lantern,” said Professor Jeffer, and brought forth an acetylene lamp, similar to those used on bicycles. “That ought to help you find the papers,” he added.
In a minute more the two lads had set off through the snow. As Chet had said, the wind was rising, and it often caught the snow up in a mad whirl and hurled it into their faces.
“Phew! this is not so pleasant,” panted Chet, when they paused to catch their breath, having covered about a quarter of the distance to where Andy had fallen. “Takes the wind right out of a chap. But never mind, come on,” he continued, and started on once more.
The rays of the acetylene lamp lit up the way fairly well, and here and there they could see their former trail, although it was growing more indistinct every moment. The wind now whistled through the pines and spruces,—a sound as dismaying as it was lonely.
“Might have brought down some game, with the aid of this lamp,” said Chet, as they trudged forward on their snowshoes.
“I’m not looking for game just now.”
At last they reached what they thought was the spot where Andy had had the fall. So far they had seen no trace of the missing documents. Now they gazed around, much crestfallen. The hollow was completely filled with the drifting snow, and a ridge had formed, wiping out the trail utterly.
“I am going to try digging,” said Andy. “Wish I had brought a shovel along.”
The lamp was hung on the branch of a tree near by, and both youths set to work, shoving and kicking the snow to one side or another. Thus they worked, in something of a circle, for the best part of an hour. Not a trace of the papers could be seen anywhere.
“Maybe I lost them further back—where we found the moose,” said Andy. “I’m going to look. But you needn’t go with me if you don’t care to, Chet.”
“I’ll go where you go, Andy. I want to see you get those papers back.”
Again they moved forward, the wind and snow cutting each in the face, and sometimes almost blinding them. They had to rest twice before they reached the spot of Chet’s thrilling adventure.
Again the search began, and it was kept up until both lads were wellnigh exhausted from stooping over and “sifting” the snow. Andy straightened his back and gave a sigh.
“I guess it’s no use,” he groaned. “They are gone! I’ll never see them again! And that claim is gone, too!”
“Oh, don’t give up yet!” cried Chet, trying to cheer him up. “If we can’t locate them tonight, we’ll do it in the morning when the sun shines. They must be somewhere around. They made quite a package, with a rubber band around it, and such a package can’t vanish completely.”
To this Andy could only answer with a sigh. He doubted very much if the precious documents would ever come to light again.
Utterly fagged out, the boys turned their backs on the wind and made their way to Professor Jeffer’s cabin. Here they found the others anxiously awaiting their return.
“What luck?” sang out Barwell Dawson.
“None,” answered Andy, and dropped into a chair as tired out as he was disheartened.
“You’ll have to go out in the morning.”
“Just what I said,” came from Chet. “Oh, we’ll get those papers back, don’t worry.” But although he spoke thus lightly, it was only to cheer his chum up. He, too, was afraid the documents were gone forever.
Andy’s sleep was a troubled one. He dreamed that his Uncle Si was after him, and that both had a tussle in the snow over the papers. Then A. Q. Hopton came up with a pitchfork, speared the papers, and bore them off in triumph. He awoke to find Chet shaking him.
“Andy, stop your groaning!” Chet was saying. “You are going on to beat the band!”
“I guess I had a nightmare,” answered Andy, sheepishly. “What time is it?”
“Just getting daylight.”
“Then I am going to get up, eat a little breakfast, and start on another search for those papers.”
“Sure—and I’ll go along.”
The boys arose as quietly as possible, and dressing, went to the kitchen and prepared their morning meal of wheat cakes and a small moose steak, and coffee. They were just finishing the repast when Professor Jeffer showed himself.
“Up early, I see,” he said, with a smile.
“We are going to look for those papers again,” explained Chet.
“To be sure. Well, I trust you find them, although I am afraid you will have quite a search.”
The sun was just peering over the trees to the eastward when the two lads left the cabin. It promised to be a clear day. It was intensely cold, and the wind still blew, although not so hard as during the day and the night gone by.
Andy took the lead, and each boy strained his eyes to catch sight of anything that might look like the documents. Once Andy saw something at a distance, and ran to it with a rapidly beating heart. But it was nothing but a strip of birch bark, and again his heart sank.
The noon hour found them still on the hunt. Fortunately they had brought some lunch along in one of the game bags, and they sat down in a sunny and sheltered nook to eat this, warming up a can of coffee over a tiny campfire Chet kindled. Then the hunt was renewed, and kept up in various places until the sun began to go down over the woods to the westward.
“It will be dark in an hour more, Andy,” said Chet, kindly. “I guess we had better return to the cabin. We can come out again tomorrow, if you wish.”
“I—I don’t think it will be any use to come out again, Chet.” Andy’s voice was very unsteady. “I am afraid the papers are gone for good!”
“Oh, I wouldn’t give it up yet!”
“If I only knew where I had dropped them! But I don’t know. They may be right around here, and they may be half a mile away.”
It was with a downcast heart that Andy followed his chum back to the cabin. Somehow, he had hoped that the timber claim would prove a valuable one, and that he would get a goodly share of it. Now that hope was shattered.
“I won’t be able to prove a thing without the documents,” he told himself. “And it would be useless to try.”
That evening the matter was talked over by the men and the boys from every point of view, but nothing came of it. Barwell Dawson agreed with Andy that nothing could be accomplished until the missing documents were brought to light.
“I really think your uncle is to blame for this,” said the hunter. “If he had not acted as he did, you would not have been forced to run away, and then the papers might be safe and sound at your cabin.”
“I’d like to know what became of that A. Q. Hopton,” said Andy.
“Well, he didn’t get the papers, and that’s one comfort,” said Chet, with a sickly grin.
There was now no use in going to Lodgeport to see a lawyer, and instead, Andy and Chet went out again for another search. But this was as useless as the others. Not a trace of the missing documents could be found anywhere.
“Might as well give it up,” sighed Andy. “They are gone, and that is all there is to it.”
Again matters were talked over, and Barwell Dawson advised Andy to go home and face his uncle.
“If you wish, I’ll go with you,” said the hunter. “Perhaps I can get him to tell just what that A. Q. Hopton was up to.”
“I’d like it first-rate, if you would go along, Mr. Dawson,” answered the boy quickly.
“Want me along?” asked Chet.
“You might as well come,” answered Andy. “We can take some of the moose meat. The horns are yours, Chet.”
They set off for the Graham cabin on the following morning. Barwell Dawson’s ankle was now quite well, although he was prudently careful how he used it. It had cleared off rather warm, so the trip was a pleasant one. The boys had with them all the meat they could carry, and also their guns, and wore the snow-shoes Professor Jeffer had loaned them.
On the way Chet asked Barwell Dawson how soon he expected to start for the north.
“I hope to get the Ice King ready by the middle of February or first of March,” was the hunter’s reply. “You see, for such a trip we require an immense amount of stores, and of just the proper kinds. It won’t do to take stuff that will freeze and burst open. Once I remember I was up there, and had some bottles of catsup along. The bottles froze and burst, and we had catsup scattered all over the camp.”
“I suppose you can’t get much up there?” said Chet.
“Absolutely nothing outside of game—musk oxen, polar bears and hares, seal, walrus, and some birds. In some parts of Greenland you can get moss that you can put in soup, but it doesn’t amount to a very hearty meal. In a cold climate like that, one needs to eat plenty of meat, and the more fat, the better. The Esquimaux live on the fattest kind of meat they can get, and on blubber, and they think tallow candles a real delicacy.”
“Excuse me from eating candles,” said Andy.
“If you were real hungry, you’d eat anything,” answered Barwell Dawson, gravely. “I was once lost on the ice, and was glad enough to chew strips of seal hide to ease the pangs of hunger. When I got back to camp, my stomach was in such a condition that they fed me my first meal very carefully, just a bit at a time. If I had eaten my fill quickly, I might have died.”
“The place looks shut up,” observed Chet, when the party came in sight of the Graham homestead. “Not a bit of smoke, and the snow isn’t cleared away from the doorstep.”
“Maybe Uncle Si is sick and can’t get around,” answered Andy, quickly.
“Sick? Lazy, you mean,” returned his chum.
They advanced to the front door and knocked. There was no sound from within, and Andy walked around to the shed. The door was locked, but the key was on a shelf near by, and he quickly opened the door.
“Uncle Si is away,” he announced, as he walked through the cabin, and let the others come in. “My! but it’s cold here! We’ll have to start a fire right away.”
“I’ll do that,” answered Chet. “You sit down and rest that sore ankle,” he went on, to Barwell Dawson, and the hunter was glad to do as bidden.
While Chet started a lively blaze in the big open fireplace, Andy went through the cabin, looking for some trace of his uncle. Much to his surprise, he found Josiah Graham’s traveling bag missing, and also all of the man’s clothing.
“He has gone away!” he cried, and then caught sight of a letter, pinned fast to the top of a chest of drawers. The outside of the letter was addressed to Andy Graham. The communication was written in lead pencil, in a chirography anything but elegant, and ran as follows:
“My dere Nephy Andy i hav got a chanct to git a job up Haveltown way and i think I beter tak it you dont seme to car for to have me tak car of you so i am goin to leave you to tak car of yourself Mr. Hopton wanted to treet you square but you would knot listen so you must tak the konseakenses. he said the pappers aint much akont anyhowe. i leave my lov even if you dont lik me —Josiah Graham”
It took some time for Andy to decipher the communication, and for the first time in his life he realized how very limited had been the education of his father’s half-brother. He read the epistle to Chet and Barwell Dawson.
“He has deserted you!” cried Chet. “Well, ‘good riddance to bad rubbish’ say I!”
“I think he was afraid that you would make trouble for him,” was Mr. Dawson’s comment. “He thought you would take those papers to some lawyer, or to the authorities, and tell how he tried to sell them to Mr. A. Q. Hopton on the sly.”
“I guess that’s the way it is,” said Andy. He drew a deep breath. “Well, I am glad to get rid of him so easily. I sincerely hope he stays away.”
“But he won’t stay away,” returned Chet. “He’ll wait until he thinks everything is all right again, and then he’ll sneak back, to live on you.”
“He’ll not live on me again,” declared Andy. “I know him thoroughly, now. If he wants to stay here he’ll have to work, the same as I do.”
“Well, you are in possession of your own,” declared Barwell Dawson, as he rested in the chair Uncle Si had used. “You can now take it as easy as you please,” and he smiled broadly.
“I don’t see how I am going to take it easy, if I can’t get work,” answered Andy, soberly. “A fellow can’t live on air. Of course, I can go out hunting and fishing and all that, but that isn’t earning a regular living.”
“You can’t get work anywhere? You look like a strong young man, and willing.”
“I am strong, and willing, too. But times are dull, and there are more men up here than there is work. If it wasn’t for having the cabin here, I think I’d try my chances elsewhere.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know—perhaps down in one of the towns.”
Andy invited Barwell Dawson to remain at the cabin for the rest of the day, and the invitation was accepted. The chums set to work to prepare a good dinner, and of this the hunter partook with great satisfaction.
“You boys certainly know how to cook,” he declared, as he finished up.
“A fellow has to learn cooking and everything, in a place like this,” answered Andy.
“It’s a good thing to know how to cook. I’ve found it so, many a time, when off on a hunt.”
“Mr. Dawson, I’d like to put a proposition to you,” burst out Andy. “Of course, if it doesn’t suit, all you’ve got to do is to say no. But I hope you will give it serious consideration.” And Andy looked at Chet, as much as to say, “Shall I go ahead?” To which his chum nodded eagerly.
“What is the proposition?”
“That you take Chet and me with you on your trip north. I know you would prefer men, but we are not so young, and each of us is strong and healthy, and we can do about as much as a man. We are both used to cold weather, and to roughing it, and you know we can shoot, and tramp over the ice and snow—and cook. We talked this over between us, and we’d like to go very much. We don’t want any pay, or any reward. All we want is our food, and some ammunition, and we are perfectly willing to rough it along with the rest. We are both practically alone in the world, so nobody will be worried over us, even if we don’t come back alive.”
“Yes, but you want to come back, don’t you?” asked Barwell Dawson, quizzically.
“Of course. But we realize the danger, and we are ready to face it.”
“We’ll go wherever you go,” broke in Chet. “And we’ll do just whatever you want us to do. As Andy says, we are used to roughing it, and I think both of us can stand as much as anybody. Why, I don’t know that I’ve had a sick day in my life.”
“And I have been sick very little—none at all since I grew up,” added Andy.
The hunter and explorer looked sharply at the two boys. He saw by the clear look in their eyes that they were honest to the core, and in earnest in all they said.
“Well, it is something not to have any family ties,” he said. “I have two friends who wish to go along, but both have wives, and one has two children. I don’t think it would be fair to take them. I am a bachelor myself, and my relatives do not care what I do. I believe if I died, all some of them would think about would be my money.” He added the last words rather bitterly.
“Then you will consider taking us?” pleaded Andy.
“Yes, I will consider it. But I must think it over a week or two before I give you my answer. When a man plans such a trip as this, he cannot be too careful as to who are his companions. I must say I like you lads very much, and I haven’t forgotten how you aided me at the cliff. But I must have time to think it over carefully, and make a few inquiries.”
With this the lads had to be content, and for the time being the subject was dropped. But later on Barwell Dawson showed his interest by asking them a great number of questions about themselves.
“I think he’ll take us along,” whispered Chet to Andy, on retiring for the night. “And I sincerely hope he does. It may give me a chance to find out what became of the Betsey Andrews and my father.”
“Don’t be too sure of our going,” answered Andy. “If you are, you may be bitterly disappointed.”
In the morning it was decided that the two lads should accompany Barwell Dawson to the lodge he had occupied back of Moose Ridge. They went along gladly, wishing to become better acquainted with the hunter and explorer. The storm had now cleared away entirely, the wind had died down, and the clear sun shone upon the ice and snow with great brilliancy.
On the way the party managed to pick up some small game, and Barwell Dawson showed his skill by hitting a partridge at a great distance. He shot with ease, showing that he was thoroughly familiar with the use of firearms. He even gave the boys “points” for which they were grateful.
“He certainly knows how to shoot,” said Andy to Chet. “I don’t see how he missed that moose.”
“He lost his footing, that’s how,” was the reply. “The very best of sportsmen miss it sometimes.”
“Isn’t he a splendid fellow, Chet!”
“The finest I’ve met. Oh, I do hope he takes us along with him!”
When the lodge was reached the boys built a fire and cooked another appetizing meal, the hunter meanwhile resting his ankle, which was still sore. The reader can rest assured that Andy and Chet did their best over the meal, for they wanted to let Mr. Dawson know of their real abilities in the culinary line. The repast was as much liked as the other had been.
“If you go with me, I’ll have to throw out the man I was going to take for a cook,” declared the hunter and explorer. “I don’t believe anybody could serve food better than this.”
“Oh, we’ll do the cooking all right!” declared Chet, enthusiastically.
“Of course there will be a ship’s cook,” explained Mr. Dawson. “But he won’t go along over the ice and snow. He’ll have to remain with the sailors on the ship.”
“How many will be in the party to leave the ship?” asked Andy.
“I don’t know yet—probably five or six, and the Esquimaux.”
Having reached Barwell Dawson’s lodge, the party settled down for a week, to hunt and to take it comfortably. During that time the hunter and explorer asked Chet much about himself and his father.
“We must try to find out about that whaler as soon as I go back to town,” said Barwell Dawson. “Somebody ought to know something about her.”
During the week the hunter and the boys became better friends than ever. The man liked the frank manner of the lads, and Andy and Chet were fascinated by the stories the explorer had to tell.
“I am going down to Portland next week,” announced Barwell Dawson one day. “If you both want to go along and see the city, I’ll take you, and foot the bill. Then we can go up to the little town where the Ice King is being fitted out, and you can let me know what you think of the ship.”
This proposal filled the boys with delight, and they accepted on the spot. Both Andy and Chet made hurried trips to their cabin homes, and came back with the best of their belongings in their grips. Then they helped Barwell Dawson pack up; and two days later started for Pine Run.
There was mild surprise in the village when it was learned the two boys were going away, even though it might be only for a short while. To nobody in the village did Barwell Dawson mention his proposed trip to the frozen north.
“They wouldn’t understand it, and it would only make me out an object of idle curiosity,” he explained to the boys.
From the general storekeeper Andy learned that his Uncle Si had tried to borrow ten dollars, but without success. The storekeeper said Josiah Graham and Mr. A. Q. Hopton had had a bitter quarrel, and parted on bad terms. He did not know where either individual was now.
“Well, let Uncle Si shift for himself,” said Andy to Chet. “It will do him good.”
“Right you are, Andy. But what a shame that you lost those papers.”
“Oh, don’t mention them, Chet. It makes me feel bad every time I think of it.”
“You ought to go back some day and take another look for them. I’ll help you.”
“Yes, I intend to go back—if not right away, then when the snow clears off.”
“Provided we are not bound north by that time.”
“Yes, provided we are not bound for the Pole!”
The trip to Portland proved full of keen interest to both boys, who had spent most of their lives in the backwoods. Barwell Dawson procured rooms for all at a hotel not far from Monument Square, and then he allowed the lads to do all the sightseeing they pleased. They took several trolley trips, and visited many points of interest, not forgetting the big stores, which were as much of a revelation as anything to them.
The hunter and explorer set to work without delay to find out if possible what had become of the whaler, Betsey Andrews. At first he could learn little, but one day came a letter from New Bedford, from a maritime agency, stating that the whaler had not been heard of since stopping at Disko Island, off the coast of Greenland, two years before. It was supposed that she had either been hit by an iceberg, or been sunk in a storm, with all on board. Once a small boat belonging to the whaler had been found washed up on the coast of Greenland, but it had contained no persons, dead or alive.
This news was very disheartening to Chet, and for several days he was not himself at all, and Andy could do little to cheer him up. But it was not as bad as if the youth had not expected something of this sort before, and his hopes soon came back to him.
“I’ll not believe father is dead until I see the proofs,” he told his chum. “He may have been cast away on the coast of Greenland, and been unable to find a ship to bring him back home.”
“Let us hope that is true,” answered Andy. “And let us hope that he gets back soon.” But though Andy spoke thus, he had small expectations of ever seeing Mr. Greene alive.
“I expect Professor Jeffer down tomorrow,” said Barwell Dawson, one morning after reading his mail. “As soon as he comes we’ll run up the coast to where the Ice King is being fitted out.”
The weather had cleared off warm, and the snow was fast vanishing. The professor arrived on time, and was full of enthusiasm concerning the proposed trip to the north.
“I wish we were sure of going,” said Andy, to him, and then told of what had been said to Mr. Dawson.
“I like you lads very much,” returned the old scientist. “I hope Mr. Dawson sees fit to take you along.”
“Perhaps you can put in a good word for us,” suggested Chet.
“I’ll do it,” was the prompt answer.
Professor Jeffer was as good as his word, and that evening he and Barwell Dawson had a long talk concerning the boys. The hunter and explorer could not help but smile at Upham Jeffer’s enthusiasm.
“Well, if you are on their side too, I’ll surely have to take them,” he said at length. “But it is a risky thing to do—they are not men, remember.”
“They will stand the trip as well as though they were men,” was the professor’s answer. “They are in the best of health, and full of vigor. Besides, it is well to have the enthusiasm of youth with us. It may help to cheer up many a lonely hour.”
“I like the idea of their being without close family connections, Professor. I hate to take a man away from those near and dear to him.”
“True, sir, true—especially when it is not actually necessary. Yes, I’d take the boys by all means. I do not think you’ll regret it. Of course, though, each will have to have a complete outfit.”
“You can trust me to get the best there is.”
When Andy and Chet heard the good news they could scarcely contain themselves. Andy danced a jig right in the hotel room, while both lads had to shake Barwell Dawson by the hand several times, and then they shook hands with Professor Jeffer, too.
“It makes me feel just as if we were one big family,” cried Andy, enthusiastically. “Oh, Chet, just to think of it! We’ll hunt musk oxen, and polar bears, and seals, and walruses! And go clear to the Pole, too!”
“And travel on dog sledges,” put in Chet. “Say, I’m ready to go this minute!”
“So am I! Mr. Dawson, you can’t start any too soon for us.”
“Well, boys, don’t be too enthusiastic. Remember, this is going to be no child’s play—trying to get to the North Pole. And we won’t try to reach that point at all unless, when we get into the Arctic regions, we find the conditions more or less favorable. You must remember that many brave and vigorous men have tried to reach the Pole and have failed. There are immense fields of ice and snow to cross, and ‘leads’ or rivers of icy water. And if you lose your supplies, there remains nothing to do but to starve.”
Nevertheless, even though he spoke thus, Barwell Dawson was secretly as hopeful as were the boys. Could he have seen what was before him, his enthusiasm might have quickly died within him.
Now that it had been settled that they could go, the two boys were eager to see the vessel which was to be their home during the coming summer and winter. The Ice King was being fitted out at the seaport town of Rathley, and they took the train for the place, arriving there about noon. The vessel was tied up at the dock, and the lads and Professor Jeffer were invited by Mr. Dawson to come on board.
“I’ll introduce you to Captain Williamson,” said the hunter. “He is in charge of the repairs that are being made. He is a fine man, and I know you will like him.”
The captain proved to be a bluff and hearty old salt, who had at one time commanded a whaler. He shook hands with a grip that made Andy and Chet wince, and looked them over with a twinkle in his eye.
“So you are going to try to hunt polar bears and such, eh?” he said. “Well, you look out that the bears don’t eat you up,” and he laughed broadly.
“We’ll try to keep out of the way,” answered Chet, modestly.
“And what are you going to do when the thermometer drops to fifty below zero?”
“Work around and keep warm,” answered Andy, with a grin, and this made the captain laugh again.
“Guess you’ll do,” he said. “Anyway, we’ll try you.”
The Ice King was a two-masted steamer that had been built for use in the icy seas of the north. She was small, broad of beam, and shallow, with an outer “jacket” of stout oak planks, and a prow and stern of steel. Inside, all the bracings were extra heavy, and the railings of the deck were of the hardest kind of timber. She carried an engine of great power, and steam could be gotten up both with coal and with oil.
“You see, it will not do to take too large a ship,” explained Barwell Dawson. “A small vessel can often get through where a big one would get stuck. The Ice King is built shallow, so that instead of being crushed in the floating ice, she will slide up on it, or over it. The sides are two feet thick, and they ought to resist a tremendous pressure. We have to have great engine power, and a steel prow, for sometimes we’ll have to simply smash our way through.”
The entire lower portion of the ship was to be given over to the storage of provisions and coal, and coal was also to be stored, at the start, on deck. The quarters for the crew were forward, in a forecastle of the usual order. At the stern was a fair-sized cabin, half above and half below the deck, with quarters for Barwell Dawson, the captain, and the others. The boys were conducted to a stateroom not over six feet by seven. It had an upper and a lower berth on one side, and a tiny washstand and some clothing hooks on the other.
“We’ll all have close quarters,” said Barwell Dawson. “My own room is but two feet larger than this.”
“It’s large enough,” said Andy. He turned to his chum. “We’ll be as snug as a bug in a rug in here, won’t we?”
“Suits me right down to the ground,” returned Chet. “Not much room for clothing, but as we haven’t much, that’s all right.”
Professor Jeffer was to share his stateroom with another man, who had not yet arrived. He asked for a cabinet, in which he might store his scientific instruments, and Mr. Dawson said he would attend to the matter.
“Next week I shall commence the purchase of all supplies,” said the man who headed the expedition. “Until that time there will be little for any of you to do, and you can go where you please.”
“I’m going back home—to have another look for those missing papers,” said Andy. “Besides, I want to bring away the rest of my things, and nail up the cabin.”
“And I’ll go along,” said Chet. “I want to get my things, too. About the cabin, I don’t care much what becomes of it, for it has seen its best days.”
The two boys spent three days in the vicinity of Pine Run. During that time both went out twice to look for the documents Andy had lost, but without success.
“They are gone, and I’ll have to make the best of it,” said Andy, with a deep sigh.
The two boys packed up what few things they wished to take along, and then each cabin was nailed up tightly. Both wondered if they would ever see the places again.
“Maybe we’ll never come back from the far north,” said Chet.
“Are you afraid, Chet?” demanded Andy, quickly.
“Not a bit of it. Just the same, we may never see Maine again. What happened to my father may happen to us.”
Professor Jeffer had come back also, to ship his case of scientific instruments, and also another case of books. The professor did not want much in the way of clothing, but it would have been a real hardship had he been deprived of his other belongings.
“The success of this trip will depend upon accurate scientific observations,” said he to the boys, when on the return to Rathley. “It is all well enough to hunt, and even to reach the North Pole, but of what use is it if we cannot return with full data of what we have observed?”
“You are right, Professor,” answered Andy. “But your instruments are beyond me.”
“I will teach you how to use some of them, after we are on board ship. There will be many days when you boys will have little to do, and it will be an excellent opportunity to improve your minds.”
“Well, I wouldn’t mind a little more education,” said Chet, bluntly.
“I’ll be pleased to teach you, my boy. I was once a schoolmaster—although that was years ago.”
“Professor, do you really think we’ll reach the Pole?” asked Andy, earnestly.
“I do not think; I hope. Many have tried and failed, but I believe the Pole will be gained some day, and we’ll have an excellent chance of success. Mr. Dawson is a wonderful man—he seems more wonderful every time I talk to him. He is fitting up his ship with the greatest possible care and forethought, and has made a deep study of polar conditions. Besides, he has had practical experience on the fields of ice and snow, and knows just what to expect in the way of hardships.”
The run to Rathley was made in less than two hours. It had been decided that the party should put up at a hotel for a few days, until some painting on board the Ice King was finished. Then they were to go aboard and make themselves at home as best they could until the day set for the departure.
They reached the hotel in the evening, and that night all slept soundly. In the morning, after breakfast, Chet suggested they walk down to the steamer and see how the painting was progressing.
“Hark!” cried Andy, when they were within two blocks of the wharf. “What is that man crying?”
“Fire! fire! fire!” yelled the individual in question, as he came rushing up the street.
“Where is it?” asked Andy and Chet in a breath.
“Down at the dock! A steamer is on fire!”
“A steamer!” exclaimed Professor Jeffer. “Can it be the Ice King?”
“Oh, I hope not!” burst out Andy, and then he set off on a run, with Chet by his side, and the professor following more slowly.
“She is doomed! There goes our chance to reach the North Pole!”
Such were the words that escaped from Chet’s lips, as he and Andy came out on the dock where the Ice King was tied up.
Before them lay the two-masted steamer, with a thick volume of smoke rolling up from her main hatchway. The fire alarm was sounding, and men and boys were running to the scene of action.
“What a catastrophe!” The words came from Professor Jeffer. He was almost out of breath from running. “I hope they can save her!”
“Wonder what is burning?” queried Andy. He, too, felt his heart sink within him.
“Can of benzine exploded,” answered a man standing near. “The painters had it, and one of ’em dropped a lighted match on the can.”
“He ought to be blown up with it,” fumed Chet. “Who ever heard of such carelessness!”
There was the tooting of a whistle, and a fire engine came dashing down the street, followed by a hose cart and a hook and ladder company. In the meantime, Captain Williamson had sounded the alarm on the ship, and set some men to work at a hand pump, for the engineer had no steam in the boilers.
“Can we do anything, Captain?” asked Andy, as he ran up the gangplank.
“I don’t know,” was the short answer. “Might help at the pump, or help carry buckets of water. If we had the engine going we’d soon get a good stream on that blaze, but we didn’t look for anything like this.”
Andy and Chet tried to get to the pump, but found that already manned. Then they got buckets and ropes, and commenced to haul up water over the side, and a number of other boys and men did likewise. Some sailors took the full buckets and threw the water down the hatchway, where they thought it would do the most good. Then the fire engine on the dock got into action, and a steady stream was directed down into the interior of the steamer.
But the conflagration had gained considerable headway, and some cans of paints and oils added ready fuel to the blaze. The smoke grew thicker and thicker, and presently a tongue of flame shot skyward.
“She’s doomed sure!” groaned Chet. “Oh, was there ever such luck!”
“The trouble is that the water doesn’t do much good on the paint and oil,” exclaimed Professor Jeffer. “Sand or dirt would be better.”
“Here comes a chemical engine!” cried Andy. “Maybe that will do some good.”
“It will do more good than throwing water,” said the old scientist.
The chemical engine got into action without delay, and as the chemicals were forced down the hatchway the smoke became even thicker than before. But the tongues of flame died down, which the boys took for a good sign.
Barwell Dawson was not on hand, he having gone to Boston on business.
“If the vessel isn’t saved, it will be an awful blow to him,” was Andy’s comment.
The boys continued to work, and so did the sailors and the firemen. Thus an anxious quarter of an hour passed. Then the chief of the fire department happened to pass Chet.
“Will the vessel be saved?” asked the lad.
“Sure thing!” cried the old fire-fighter. “But it’s a blaze hard to get at. If a man tried to go down there, he’d be smothered in a minute.”
Nevertheless, some of the hook and ladder men went into the engine room, and there chopped a hole through a bulkhead into the hold. Then more chemicals were used, and more water, and soon it was announced that the fire was under control. A little later the smoke cleared away, and the firemen went below, to put out any stray sparks.
It was found that the total damage was confined to that portion of the hold where the painters had stored their paints and oils. Here the woodwork was much charred, and some beams and braces were burnt through. But Captain Williamson estimated that two hundred dollars would make everything as good as ever.
“And that I’m going to get out of those painters,” he went on, doggedly. “If they don’t pay up, I’ll have ’em arrested for gross carelessness.” It may be said here that in the end the painters had to pay for the repairs, although they did so unwillingly.
A telegram was sent to Mr. Dawson, and he came from Boston on the first train. He was much disturbed, and roundly berated the painter who had caused the conflagration. The man had been smoking, and the hunter gave orders that in the future they were to smoke on deck only, and use no matches whatever while below.
The repairs made necessary by the fire were made within ten days, and then the task of getting the Ice King ready for her long trip to the Arctic regions went forward as rapidly as ever. Mr. Dawson was a busy man, for he superintended the buying of everything, from fur clothing to pemmican.
“Pemmican is the great thing in the Arctic regions,” he explained one day, when Andy asked about the food. “It is nothing but the round of beef, cut into strips and dried, and then mixed with beef tallow and currants. It will keep for a long time, and is highly nutritious.”
“Is it appetizing?” asked Andy, with a grin.
“It is when you are good and hungry, Andy. Besides, it is comparatively light, and easily carried. I don’t know what explorers would do without it. Of course, as long as we can get fresh meat, we’ll eat that. But we’ll have to fall back on pemmican more or less. You’ll find it more appetizing than seal blubber, such as the Esquimaux eat.”
The hunter purchased for the lads some silk underwear that was extra warm, and some stout boots, and outer garments of wool and of fur, and also some oilskins for wet weather. Then he took them to a gun shop in Portland and fitted them out with pistols, repeating rifles, and stout hunting knives. He also purchased for them water-tight match safes, and colored goggles of the automobile variety—the latter to ward off headache and snow-blindness.
“You need not wear the goggles all the time up north,” he explained. “But as soon as your eyes hurt the least bit, put them on.”
“You are very kind to get us all these things,” said Chet. The new repeating rifle made his eyes sparkle with pleasure.
“Indeed you are kind!” cried Andy. “We didn’t expect half so much.”
“I want you to go away completely equipped,” answered Barwell Dawson. “Half of the failures of exploring expeditions is due to the lack of proper equipment. It’s like going hunting with a gun that won’t shoot straight. Sometimes you hit your game, but more times you don’t.”
The hunter and explorer also went over the scientific instruments with Professor Jeffer, to see that nothing should be lacking to take all manner of observations and measurements. Some linen notebooks were also provided, which could not be torn easily, and likewise fountain pens, and ink made of liquids that would not readily freeze. Mr. Dawson also procured a number of cameras for taking pictures, and films that would not be affected by the intense cold.
“You’ve got to think about the cold every time you buy anything,” observed Andy. “Wonder what about a jack-knife? I was going to buy a new one, and I don’t want to ask Mr. Dawson about it—he has bought enough already.”
“I guess you can get any kind you want,” answered his chum. “But don’t use it when it’s too cold, or the steel will stick to your skin.”
“Oh, I know that. I once put my tongue on some cold iron, and I had a terrible time getting it off again.”
The boys were in Portland, and set off to buy some trifles, having still a few dollars of their own. Andy purchased the knife at a hardware store, and they were just coming from the place when Chet caught him by the arm.
“What is it, Chet?”
“Look at the man across the way! It is your Uncle Si!”
“Uncle Si!” cried Andy. “So it is! And he has seen me!”
Andy’s first impulse was to run, but he did nothing of the sort. He stood his ground, and gazed at his uncle coldly as the latter shuffled up. Josiah Graham looked anything but tidy and prosperous, and Andy rightly imagined that his relative had been going through some hard times.
“Humph! So here you be!” were Josiah Graham’s first words. “I was a-wonderin’ what had become of yer.”
“What are you doing here, Uncle Si?” asked Andy, as calmly as possible.
“Me? Wot’s thet to you, I’d like to know?”
“Oh, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“I’m a-lookin’ fer work. Be you workin’ now?”
“Not just at present.”
“How did you git here?”
“Came on the train.”
“Humph! Needn’t be so pert! Maybe you had an offer o’ work here?”
“No.”
“We haven’t got to look for a job,” said Chet. “We’ve got something better to look forward to.”
“Better, eh? Wot is it?” And Josiah Graham’s small eyes gazed shrewdly at the youths.
“Never mind what it is,” broke in Andy, hastily, with a warning look at his chum.
“Ah, I know!” cried the man, with a leer. “You came down to sell thet land claim! Goin’ to do it without my knowledge an’ consent!”
“No, I didn’t come for that.”
“You can’t tell me, Andy Graham! I know better, I do!” the old man shrilled. “But you remember I’m your guardeen, an’ you can’t sell nuthin’ without me!”
“You are not my guardian, Uncle Si. You went away of your own free will, and now I want you to let me alone.”
“Did you sell them papers yet?”
“No.”
“Then you better give ’em to me. You was a big fool to run away as you did. I was a-goin’ to make a good bargain fer yer.”
“Uncle Si, if you had sold those papers to that Mr. A. Q. Hopton, I could have had you arrested,” said Andy, quietly but firmly.
At these words the face of the shiftless man changed color, and his jaw dropped.
“Me? Arrested?” he stammered.
“Yes, arrested. I have had advice on the subject. You had no right to do a thing without the consent of the court.”
“Humph! so you have been to a lawyer, eh? Pretty way to do—not to trust your uncle, who allers did so well by yer. Has thet lawyer got them papers now?”
“I won’t tell you a word about the papers.”
“Humph! You ain’t got no right to run away like this.”
“I am not running away. I have a right to go where I please—and do as I please.”
“Who told you thet?”
“Never mind who told me.”
“You’re a-gettin’ too high-toned fer your boots, Andy Graham! How much money have you got?”
“That is my business.”
“Ain’t you a-goin’ to tell me?”
“No.”
“Where be you a-stopping?”
“That is my business, too.”
“Don’t git sassy.”
“I am not ‘sassy,’ as you call it. I intend, in the future, to mind my own business, and I want you to mind yours.”
“You had better leave Andy alone,” put in Chet, who saw that the shiftless man was working himself up into the worst possible humor. “You never helped him, and he doesn’t want anything to do with you.”
“Say, this ain’t none o’ your business, Chet Greene.”
“Andy is my friend.”
“Humph! he better not be!” snarled Josiah Graham. “You ain’t no fit boy fer nobuddy to go with—you the son o’ a thief, an’ mebbe wuss. I want you——Oh!”
What Josiah Graham wanted next was never made known, for just then he landed flat on his back in the gutter, where a well-directed blow from Chet’s fist had sent him.
If ever a man was surprised, that man was Josiah Graham. Even Andy was astonished, for he had not dreamed that Chet could be so quick-tempered.
“Oh, Chet, that was a hard blow!”
“He deserved it,” was Chet’s answer. His voice was strained, and his face pale. “I’ll allow nobody to talk that way to me.”
“Yo—you young villain!” spluttered Josiah Graham, as he rolled over in the dirt of the gutter and picked himself up. “I’ll—I’ll——”
“After this you keep a civil tongue in your head!” interrupted Chet. He still had his fists clenched.
“You—you——”
“If you call me any more names, I’ll knock you down again.”
Chet’s manner was so aggressive that Josiah Graham retreated several feet. A few persons had witnessed his fall, and a crowd began to collect.
“What’s the trouble?”
“Is it a fight?”
“Do you want a policeman?”
“No, we don’t want any policeman,” said Andy in alarm. “Chet, we had better get out of this,” he whispered. “If we don’t, we’ll all be taken to the station house!”
“Your uncle is the meanest man I ever met! He ought to have a sound thrashing!” answered Chet, recklessly.
“I know, but we don’t want to have the police come down on us.”
“I’ve a good mind to have the law on yer!” howled the man who had been knocked down.
“Do so—and I’ll have the law on you,” retorted Chet. “You can’t slander me for nothing,—and you can’t try to rob Andy, either.”
The last shot told, and Josiah Graham backed still further away.
“We’ll settle this some other time!” he muttered, and then turning, he disappeared into the crowd and hurried away much faster than was his usual speed.
Not to be questioned by those who had gathered, Andy and Chet pushed through the crowd in the opposite direction. Soon they were a couple of blocks from where the encounter had taken place, and then they slackened their pace.
“The miserable hound!” muttered Chet. He was still completely upset.
“Don’t take it so hard, Chet,” answered Andy, soothingly. “It’s just Uncle Si’s mean way, that’s all.”
“I suppose he tells everybody what he thinks I am!”
“Oh, I don’t think that. He was riled up, and wanted to say something extra mean. And it was mean—as mean as dirt!” added Andy.
He continued to talk soothingly to his chum, and presently Chet cooled down somewhat. But he still said he wished he had stayed and given Josiah Graham the thrashing of his life.
“He thinks I have the lost papers,” said Andy, later on.
“And I’d let him continue to think so,” answered his chum. “If you say they are lost, your uncle may tell that fellow, Hopton, and the real estate man may fix it up to do you out of that claim anyway. I’d keep them in complete ignorance of the truth.”
Andy thought this a good idea, and resolved to follow the suggestion. He wondered if his uncle would make another move against him. He was soon to learn how really mean Josiah Graham could be.
For the two boys, waiting for the steamer to sail on her momentous voyage, the days passed slowly. After their outfits had been purchased and stowed away aboard the Ice King, there was little for them to do. They read some books on polar exploration, and spent hours in poring over the maps of the Arctic regions which Barwell Dawson and the professor possessed. They traced out the routes of Kane, De Long, Greely, Peary, and others, and wondered what route Mr. Dawson would pursue.
“He is going up the west coast of Greenland anyway,” said Chet. “And that suits me, for that is where the Betsey Andrews was last heard of.” No matter what was going on, thoughts of his missing parent continually drifted across his mind. Would he ever see his father again, and would his parent be able to clear himself of the accusations brought against him?
“Do you suppose there are any other exploring expeditions north just now?” asked Andy of Professor Jeffer, at the breakfast table one morning. All were now stopping at a hotel in Rathley.
“But very few, I believe. I understand Robert Peary is about to try it again this coming summer, just as we are going to do, and Mr. Dawson tells me that a noted hunter and explorer from Brooklyn, Dr. Frederick A. Cook, is now somewhere up north. This Dr. Cook went up north to hunt walrus and polar bears, but he is quite an explorer, and he may take it into his head to strike out for the Pole, especially as he had for his captain Robert Bartlett, who commanded Peary’s ship, the Roosevelt, during Peary’s wonderful trip in 1905 and 1906.”
“Do you think we’ll meet any of those other parties up there!” asked Chet.
“It is possible, but not probable, for the country is so large. But we shall probably hear of Dr. Cook’s party through the Esquimaux as soon as we arrive. Those men of the frozen north make good messengers, and news travels for hundreds of miles in an incredible space of time, considering the ice and snow.”
What Professor Jeffer had to say about Dr. Frederick A. Cook was true, and as the name of this famous hunter and explorer was soon to be on everybody’s tongue, it will be well to give more details concerning him and his party.
Dr. Cook was born in Hortonville, New York State. He was of German descent, and his family originally spelt the name Koch. His father was a physician, and so was his grandfather, so it was but natural that the lad should take up the study of medicine.
In his younger life he had to work hard. The family moved to Port Jervis, N. Y., and there Frederick entered High School. Then the family moved again, this time to the Williamsburgh section of Brooklyn, N. Y. While studying, the boy did his best to earn some money, working with a produce dealer in Fulton Market, and also as a printer. Then he purchased a milk route, and having gotten ahead a little financially, entered a Medical School, from which, in due course of time, he received his diploma. While in college he was married, but his wife died shortly after the wedding.
The young doctor was looking around for an opening, when he heard that Commander Peary was fitting out an expedition for polar exploration. This was the first Peary expedition, and a competition was opened for the position of surgeon with the party. Dr. Cook won in the contest, and thus took his first trip to the far north, in the ship, Kite, in 1891. The north-western coast of Greenland was explored, the party reaching a north latitude of 82°, and Dr. Cook received a splendid training for future work in that territory.
Returning home, he married again, and for a short time settled down to the practice of a physician. But the wish for hunting and for exploration was in his heart, and in 1893 he went north again, and took a third trip the year following. Then came a voyage on an ill-fated ship, the Miranda, and the explorer came close to going to the bottom of the ocean. The ship collided with an iceberg off the coast of Labrador, and also hit some reefs off the coast of south Greenland. A transfer was made to another vessel, and the Miranda was left at sea, a hopeless derelict.
In 1897 Dr. Cook joined the Belgica Arctic Expedition, as surgeon and anthropologist, and spent nearly two years in that service. Then he went north in another ship, the Erie, carrying supplies for the Peary party, then again in the polar regions.
After that a trip was made to Alaska, and the intrepid explorer tried the ascent of Mount McKinley, said to be 20,300 feet high—the tallest mountain in America. At first he failed, but another year he came back and made the grand ascent, a truly great achievement. He wrote a book on the subject, and also another volume relating his experiences while a surgeon and explorer in the frozen north.
Dr. Cook had a great friend in Mr. John R. Bradley, a man of means, who was a well-known traveler and hunter. The two talked the matter over, and decided to fit out a vessel and make a trip as far north as possible. In the main, the project was kept secret, and neither boasted of what they were about to attempt to do. At Gloucester, Mass., they found a ship that suited their purpose, and she was thoroughly overhauled and renamed the John R. Bradley. Suitable provisions for a long trip were taken on board, and the vessel left Gloucester harbor July 3, 1907. It did not look at all like a “North Pole” expedition, and its departure excited very little comment. It was thought that Mr. Bradley and Dr. Cook had merely gone off on a hunting trip after bears and walrus.
It took until the end of August for the Bradley to reach the upper end of Smith Sound, in Baffin Bay. Here was located the port of Etah, and not many miles away another port called Annootok. All of the provisions and other supplies were landed at the latter port, and then the vessel sailed back to the United States, leaving Dr. Cook and his party to hunt and explore to their hearts’ content. The vessel’s return created some surprise, and then the word gradually spread that it was possible Dr. Cook would try to reach the North Pole. Mr. Bradley was at once besieged with questions, but gave no definite information.
At Annootok Dr. Cook found many Esquimaux assembled, all ready for a great bear hunt. As he could speak their language, he talked to them, and engaged a number of them, with their dogs and sledges, to serve him.
Work was at once begun to make Annootok a regular base of supplies. A small house was erected, and also a storehouse and a workshop. All the provisions brought along were packed away, and the explorer obtained from the native hunters large quantities of polar bear meat and other game.
And so he set off on his memorable trip northward, and what this brought forth we shall learn later.
“Day after tomorrow we shall set off on our trip to the frozen north.”
It was Barwell Dawson who made the announcement to the boys and Professor Jeffer, after a long consultation with Captain Williamson.
“Good!” shouted Andy, swinging his cap in the air.
“Suits me,” added Chet. “I’ve been on pins and needles to go for a month and more.”
“You mustn’t be impatient,” replied Mr. Dawson, with a smile. “Even as it is, we’ll be getting away nearly a month before I originally planned to go. But I am ready, and so is Captain Williamson, so there is no use in delaying.”
“What about Mr. Wilson?” asked Andy, referring to a man who had signed for the trip.
“He is sick, and cannot go. But Dr. Slade will be on hand, and likewise Mr. Camdal. They sent me a telegram last night.”
“I suppose all the crew are here?” questioned Professor Jeffer.
“To a man—and all as anxious as we are to start.”
“Do they know we are going to try for the Pole?”
“Not exactly, but I’ve told them—and so has the captain—that we intended to stay in the polar regions for at least two years.”
Winter had passed, and now it was the middle of Spring. The weather was warm and pleasant, just the sort for a cruise, as Andy declared.
The boys had had but little to bother them outside of another meeting Andy had with his Uncle Si, who had followed him to Rathley. Josiah Graham had tried to “bulldoze” the youth, and had wanted Andy to give him ten dollars, but the boy had refused, and walked away, leaving his uncle in a more bitter frame of mind than ever.
“I don’t know how he manages to live,” Andy told Chet. “He doesn’t seem to work.”
“If he isn’t willing to work, he ought to starve,” answered Chet. He had no tender feelings for the man who had called him the son of a thief.
“I am sorry he came to Rathley. I don’t understand how he found out we were here.”
“Oh, he’d take more trouble to find you than to hunt up a job,” answered Chet.
On the day previous to that set for the Ice King to sail, Chet was walking down one of the docks, when he saw two men in earnest conversation. One man was pointing his long forefinger toward the vessel that was bound north, and drawing closer, Chet recognized Josiah Graham.
“Now what can he be up to?” the youth asked himself. “He seems to be quite excited.”
The men were standing near a high board fence that separated one dock from another. Chet ran back through a warehouse, and scaled the fence, coming up quickly on the other side. Through a knothole he could see the two men, and hear all that was being said.
At first he could not catch the drift of the talk, but presently discovered that the stranger was some sort of officer of the law. The two were talking about Andy, and at last Josiah Graham said:
“I don’t want him to run away from me. It’s up to you to stop him, an’ I want for you to do it.”
“Are you his guardian?”
“O’ course I be—I’m his only livin’ relative. He’s got property, but he’ll go to the dogs if he ain’t looked after. I want him brung ashore when thet ship sails, an’ I understand she’s a-goin’ to sail to-morrer.”
“Well, I’ll see what can be done,” answered the stranger. “Will you come to the office and make some sort of a complaint?”
“Have I got to do that?” questioned Josiah Graham, anxiously.
“It would be best.”
“All right then, I’ll do it. It’s fer his own good,” answered the shiftless one. “We’ll catch him when he leaves the hotel to go to the ship.” Then the two men walked away towards the center of the town.
“The mean rascal—to try to keep Andy from going on this trip!” murmured Chet to himself. “I’ll soon put a spoke in his wheel!”
He started on a hunt for Andy, who had gone uptown to make a small purchase. He looked into several stores, and at last located his chum in a barber shop.
“Last haircut for some time to come,” announced Andy. “After this, I guess I’ll let my hair grow—it will be warmer.”
“I’ve got something to tell you,” returned Chet. “Hurry up.”
“Can’t hurry, when I’m getting my hair cut, Chet.”
Nevertheless, Andy told the barber not to waste time, and ten minutes later both boys were on the street. There Chet related what he had overheard, Andy listening in wonder.
“He certainly is the limit, Chet. Now, what do you suppose I had best do?”
“I don’t know—tell Mr. Dawson, I suppose.”
“But I don’t want to get him into trouble.”
“Do you think it will do that?”
“It might—and he might tell me it would be best for me to stay behind,” answered Andy, gloomily. “And I’m not going to stay behind!” he cried, desperately.
“Then I know what you can do!” exclaimed Chet, struck by a sudden idea.
“What?”
“Play a trick on your Uncle Si. But it will cost you a five-dollar bill.”
“That’s cheap—if only I can get rid of the old curmudgeon.”
“Then come with me, to the writing-room of the hotel.”
Andy did as requested, and there Chet unfolded his plan. Andy agreed to it at once, and without loss of time the following letter was penned:
“Dear Uncle Si: I am sorry I caused you so much trouble. Will you come to Pine Run at once? I inclose five dollars for the trip. How much money can you get for those papers? Thought I’d like to go on that ocean trip, but I suppose sailoring is harder than lumbering, isn’t it?
“Your Nephew,
“Andy.”
Andy had in his pocket an envelope postmarked Pine Run, and addressed to himself. With care he erased the name “Andrew” and substituted “Josiah,” and then he changed the address. He knew where his uncle was stopping, a cheap lodging house.
“I guess that will set him off the trail,” said Chet, with a grin, after the envelope had been sealed with care. “And we haven’t told him any falsehood, either.”
The boys laid their plans with care, and hired a youth employed around the lodging house to hand the letter to Josiah Graham, but without stating where it came from. Then Andy and Chet set watch.
In the middle of the afternoon they saw Josiah Graham enter the lodging house. They waited impatiently, and half an hour later saw him emerge, carrying his faded grip in his hand. He headed directly for the depot.
“I guess the plan is going to work,” whispered Chet. “Let us follow him.”
“He mustn’t see me—or it would spoil everything.”
They followed on behind the man, and saw him enter a police station. He came forth five minutes later, looking flushed and humiliated.
“I’ll wager he has withdrawn his charge against you,” said Chet, and his surmise was correct.
From the station house Josiah Graham hurried to the depot. It was three o’clock, and a train for Pine Run was due in fifteen minutes.
“Pine Run ticket,” Chet heard him demand, at the window, and it was handed to him. Then he came out on the platform, and sank down on a bench, with his grip at his feet.
“You are rid of him, Andy,” cried Chet, gayly.
“It was fine of you to think of the trick,” responded Andy, gratefully.
“Say, I’ve got a good mind to have some fun with the old man,” went on Chet.
“Fun? I hope you don’t mean to knock him down?”
“No, for he might have me arrested, and that would keep me from going on the trip. I’ll just quiz him a little.”
“Better be careful.”
“Don’t worry—I know what I am doing.”