Kooga the Aleut spent the rest of that day and the following night with his new-found friends. The dinner, to which all of them had looked forward with such interest, proved a great success. From his bidarkie the young native produced a small brass kettle, in which they made a venison stew that they ate with mussel-shell spoons. He also brought forth a basket so exquisitely woven of native grasses as to be perfectly water-tight. In this was his choicest treasure, a brick of tea, such as the Western Aleuts procure from Russian traders, and which they guard with most jealous care. From this, after the stew had disappeared and the kettle was thoroughly cleansed, he treated himself and his friends to a brewing of the fragrant leaf.

In the meantime bits of venison and seal meat were cooking and being eaten on all sides, while Kooga every now and then allowed himself an extra relish in the shape of a strip of raw seal blubber. He also showed the others how to roast the larger caribou bones, and extract from them the marrow, which Phil, tasting for the first time, pronounced “immense.”

After the feast came to an end, owing to the inability of its guests to eat another mouthful, Kooga taught them to build a low scaffold of drift-wood, on which to smoke and dry by fire-heat strips of venison and split salmon. In procuring wood for this purpose, he and Phil visited the wrecked whale-boat. The tide was low, and while wandering about in the vicinity of the wreck, the keen eye of the Aleut detected something buried in kelp at the edge of the breakers. Drawing this forth, he laid it at Phil’s feet. To the lad’s astonishment, it proved to be his bag of water-proof rifle-cartridges, lost when the wreck occurred. For an hour or more they searched among the slippery rocks with the hope of finding one or both of the lost guns, but without success. Then, as the recovered cartridges were of no use to him, Phil presented them to Kooga, whose rifle they exactly fitted, to the immense gratification of that young Aleut.

It having been decided that the plan proposed by Serge should be carried out, and a quantity of food having been prepared both for taking and for leaving behind, the two white lads and their native guide made an early start for the south side of the island the next morning. Jalap Coombs remained at the barrabkie, to which they promised to return in a day or two, or at least before the four days, at the expiration of which a schooner might be expected on that side, should have elapsed.

Phil and Kooga, who had struck up a wonderful intimacy, went in the bidarkie, which also carried their very simple camp outfit, while Serge followed down the shore of the strait.

As the little party set forth, Jalap Coombs called after them, “Mind, boys, and get back as quick as ever ye can, either with or without the schooner, for we’ll be turrible lonely while ye’re gone—me and old Kite Roberson will.”

Owing to the intricate and dangerous navigation of Krenitzin Strait, which necessitated long détours and occasioned many delays, the bidarkie did not reach the south side of the island much before Serge, who had put in twenty miles or so of the toughest kind of tramping without a halt.

It did not take them long to pitch the little tent and collect materials for a fire, which Kooga lighted without difficulty by means of an old-fashioned flint and steel, his tinder being now perfectly dry. Drift-wood was so scarce on that side of the island that they were obliged to content themselves with a very small blaze. It was sufficient, however, to boil water for a kettle of tea, and this, with a few strips of dried venison toasted on the coals, constituted a meal that even Phil declared was better than some he had eaten.

After dinner, as there were still some hours of daylight left and no schooner was in sight, Serge, wishing to try for a halibut with one of his home-made hooks, proposed to Kooga to take him a short distance from shore in the bidarkie—a proposal to which the latter readily acceded.

So they went fishing, and Phil, still incredulous as to their success with such rude tackle, sat on the edge of a precipitous cliff and watched them. As he sat there he could not help feeling very lonely and rather homesick. His thoughts turned towards the father whom he loved so dearly. He wondered if he were very anxious about him, and whether he had gone to Victoria to search for him, or were still awaiting his coming in Sitka.

“Oh dear,” sighed the lad, “how wretchedly I have mixed things up, anyway! Just as Aunt Ruth said I would, too. No matter. I’m on the right track at last, and I must reach Sitka very soon now. If I don’t, it won’t be my fault, anyhow. I wonder if Aunt Ruth has heard that I am lost, and what she would say if she could see me at this minute.”

With this he glanced about him, and the vastness of his own surroundings filled him with a sense of his own insignificance and weakness. Before him was out-spread the limitless Pacific, whose mighty billows surged and thundered against the black rocks hundreds of feet below. In the immeasurable distance the sun was sinking beneath the heaving waters. Behind him towered a range of frowning mountains, their gaunt frames seared and riven by the Plutonic forces whose ominous banner still floated from Shishaldin’s lofty crest. A few sea-fowl circled and screamed about his head. How terrible it was to be there alone! Phil laughed for human companionship, and wished the other fellows would come back.

Suddenly he started up in affright. The bidarkie was not where he had last seen it. What had happened? Was he indeed alone in that awful place? No; there it was, and Phil heaved a great sigh of relief. But how far away it was! How could they have gained such a distance so quickly? Now it seemed to be coming towards him again, and at a tremendous speed. What could it all mean? He rubbed his eyes to be sure they were not playing him false. That they were not was proved by a sight of the frail craft right abreast of him, but madly dashing past, and above the surge of breakers the shouts of his companions came faintly to his ears.

For nearly an hour were the erratic movements of the bidarkie continued, and then slowly and heavily it approached the shore. Phil ran back and down the roundabout way leading to the beach to meet it. When he reached the water’s edge he found the others already on shore, and just landing a halibut so huge that both the white lads estimated it to weigh fully two hundred pounds.

“You see,” explained Serge, “we couldn’t get it into the canoe, or kill it, or do anything except let it tow us round till it was tired out. Finally we got close enough for Kooga to spear it, and then we took our turn at towing. The hook held, though, and I don’t believe it would if it hadn’t been a good one.”

“It certainly is a good one!” exclaimed Phil, “and I will never say another word against that style of tackle. But, oh, Serge, it was horrid here while you were gone, and I hope you won’t ever leave me alone in such a place again.”

“All right, old fellow, I won’t,” replied Serge, heartily.

After securing the precious bidarkie in a place of safety, and cutting a few steaks from the great halibut, the three lads returned to camp, where they passed their evening in cooking and eating another meal.

“I don’t know how it is,” remarked Phil, meditatively, as he washed the dishes by thrusting his sheath-knife into a tuft of moss, “but there seems to be something in the air of this country that makes a fellow want to eat about a dozen meals a day.”

There seemed to be something in the air that compelled sleep, too. As there was a moon, the others agreed to Phil’s proposition, born of his recent resolves, to take turns in watching all night for the schooner. Kooga, to whom the plan was explained by Serge, was to take the first, Serge the midnight, and Phil the morning watch. This scheme was carried out as arranged, except that the rising sun found the last watcher sound asleep. Awakened by its warm beams, he cast a glance at the sea, sprang to his feet, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. Then he gave a shout that brought the others to his side.

The sight that met their gaze was that of a placid sea, with a dozen bidarkies, fully two miles away, stretched out in a long line on its heaving bosom. Beyond them were the white sails of a schooner headed to the eastward.

“How could she have got past without you seeing her?” asked Serge.

“I’m sure I don’t know,” answered Phil, “unless it was that I had closed my eyes for a minute. You see, I was so awfully sleepy that I had the hardest kind of work to keep them open. Now I’ll tell you what, though: Kooga and I will go out and overtake those bidarkies and find out when the schooner is coming back. We can catch them easy enough, for they seem to be waiting for something. I shouldn’t wonder if they were going to make a surround, which is what I want to see more than anything.”

“Well,” agreed Serge, hesitatingly; “but don’t you think I’d better go, as I can understand what they say?”

“Oh, that’ll be all right,” replied Phil, confidently. “There are sure to be some among them who can speak enough English to tell me what I want to find out.”

“And you will be back before night?”

“Of course. Probably inside of a couple of hours.”

Serge hurriedly explained Phil’s proposal to Kooga, and that shrewd native, glad to have the company of so mighty a hunter as the Yankee lad, willingly agreed to take him along and show him how sea-otters are captured.

Then he hastily collected his weapons, and taking with him a few strips of dried meat to be eaten as they went, the young Aleut led the way to the cove, where his bidarkie was hauled up.

Phil, also snatching up some strips of meat, quickly followed, and Serge went down to see them off.

“Don’t forget, Phil, that you’re to be back before dark!” he shouted, as the light craft shot out from the cove.

“Never you fear, old man!” came back in laughing tones.

He who was left climbed up to the place Phil had occupied the evening before, and watched the fleet of bidarkies until all of them had vanished in the dim distance. Then, with many misgivings as to the wisdom of the plan just pursued, Serge turned slowly away to prepare his solitary breakfast.