It cost Phil and Kooga the greater part of a day of unremitting labor to return to that point of Oonimak Island where they had left Serge. During that time the former had ample opportunity for reflection. He realized how reckless he had been in setting forth on such a wild chase at so critical a juncture, just to gratify a selfish whim, and now he bitterly regretted that he had not been more thoughtful, both for his comrades and himself. “The worst of it is,” he muttered, “that not only have I missed the schooner on this side of the island, but I am afraid the other has gone by as well. It would serve me just right, too, if Serge had got tired of waiting, and had rejoined Mr. Coombs, and they had both been taken off by the other schooner. What shall I do, though, in that case? Return to Saanak, I suppose, and turn Aleut, and follow sea-otter hunting as a business for the rest of my life. But he hasn’t gone; I know he hasn’t! Old Serge is too true a comrade to do a thing like that. In spite of loneliness and uncertainty and everything else, I shall find him waiting for me; I know I shall.”

And so it proved. As the paddlers wearily drew near to their journey’s end late in the afternoon, Kooga first discovered a human figure on the beach of the well-remembered cove, and pointed it out. Phil knew it must be his faithful friend, and uttered a wild yell, a faint answer to which came back from the solitary figure. Then, inspired with a new energy, the tired crew of the bidarkie so redoubled their efforts that their little craft fairly flew over the smooth waters, leaving a long shining wake of dancing bubbles behind her. Up to the very beach she dashed with unabated swiftness, and there was brought to a sudden halt by a powerful back-stroke from the flashing blades.

“Hurrah, Serge, old man! Here we are again!” shouted Phil.

“Oh, Phil! I am so thankful that you have come, and are safe. I had almost given you up for lost.”

A second later the friends had grasped each other’s hands, and were both talking at once, they had so much to tell and so many questions to ask.

“It is so good to see you again, Phil!” and, “Old man, I never was more glad to get back to a place in my life!” were exclamations repeated over and over again.

“Do you know,” said Serge, “I was certain it must be you when I first sighted the bidarkie, so far away that she was the merest speck. Then, as she drew near, you looked so much like a native that I was filled with a horrid fear. You see, not having any hat on—”

“Oh yes!” interrupted Phil. “I lost that the day we were out after sea-lions. I tell you what, Serge, that’s the grandest kind of hunting, right in the edge of great breakers that are dashing their spray all over you, and they look as big as elephants—the sea-lions, I mean—and they’ve got the wickedest teeth, and great shaggy manes, and they roar as if they meant to eat you up. Oh, it was fine!”

“And wearing that kamleika,” continued Serge.

“That’s so! I forgot I had it on. One of the hunters gave it to me the day I got my first otter and presented it to them. You’d better believe that takes careful shooting! It was the finest work I ever did, and you ought to have seen those fellows’ eyes stick out. I’ve brought a skin with me, too. By-the-way, did you know the schooner had gone back?”

“I should rather say I did,” replied Serge. “She came past the day after you left. I managed to attract their attention, and in spite of the sea they got a boat ashore. Of course, I was awfully disappointed to find that you were not on board, and felt worse when they said they hadn’t seen anything of you. They offered to take me to Oonalaska, but of course I wouldn’t go. They couldn’t stop to go around the island after the seal-skins either, because they were under charter to leave Oonalaska almost immediately for Sitka. So—”

“For Sitka!” groaned Phil.

“Yes. Isn’t it too bad! So I traded a bear-skin with them for some groceries, and they went on.”

“A bear-skin!” exclaimed the other. “Where on earth did you get a bear-skin?”

“Killed the bear,” answered Serge, coolly.

“But you hadn’t any gun.”

“Didn’t need one. I killed him with my knife. You see he got at my halibut the very first night. Hearing the noise, I went down and tried to drive him away by throwing rocks. One of them must have hit him and made him mad, for he took after me, and I ran back to the tent. He followed altogether too close for comfort, and when I went through it and out the back way he tried to do the same. Somehow he managed to knock out the poles, bring the tent down about his ears, and get all tangled up in it. You better believe he was furious, and the way he growled and snarled and tore round was a caution. I saw that it was my only chance, so I went for him with my knife, and finally killed him, though he tore my clothing some while I was doing it.”

“Tore your clothing!” cried Phil, regarding his friend from head to foot; “I should say he did. Why, man, you are in rags! If that doesn’t beat all the bear-hunting I ever heard of, though! Seems to me you have had about as exciting adventures as I have. But, by-the-way, did you say you had some groceries? Do let’s go and sample them, for I know I’m hungrier than that bear was. I am curious to see if I shall recognize a grocery, too, it’s so long since I’ve met with one. What are they? Coffee, sugar, milk, butter, flour, jams, biscuit, syrup, mince-meat, pickles, canned peaches, and—”

“Hold on!” laughed Serge. “How much do you think an undressed bear-skin, out of season and full of knife-holes, is worth in this country? They only valued it at two dollars; but they gave me some flour, tea, and sugar, a little lard, a few biscuit, quarter of a pound of baking-powder, a small iron kettle, half a dozen empty tin cans, a sail-needle, and some twine, which seemed to me a pretty good price under the circumstances.”

“So it was,” retorted Phil; “and if you haven’t eaten all the tin cans let’s go and tackle them.”

Kooga, who had hauled up his bidarkie, and waited patiently for the lads to finish their conversation, followed them up to Serge’s camp, at sight of which he uttered an exclamation of amazement. Kooga’s tent, neatly repaired, had been re-erected, and a stone wall, about four feet high, had been built along two sides to serve as a wind-break. A small fire burned brightly, and above this a kettle of water boiled merrily. The interior of the tent was filled with a bed of softest moss, and it all looked so cosey that Phil declared he felt as though he had got home again.

In a short time Serge had ready such a supper as made the returned wanderer repeat this sentiment more emphatically than before. The ingenious lad had converted several of his tin cans into cooking utensils. On one of these he had baked a sort of thin biscuit, made of flour, salt water, lard, and baking-powder. Another was his fry-pan, in which he cooked a quantity of small fish, like herring. A third was his teapot. A dozen fat little birds that he had trapped were nicely cleaned and spitted ready for cooking, while the bill of fare was completed by smoked halibut and thin strips of bear meat.

“Well!” cried Phil, as he sat down to this bountiful meal. “If there is anything finer than this in Alaska, then I don’t want to see it, that’s all. To think of having biscuit—actually hot biscuit—baked on a piece of tin, too! Serge, you are a genius! A genuine out-and-out genius! And if my aunt Ruth could see this lay-out I really think she would turn green with envy. And tea with sugar in it—real, truly sugar! Say, Serge, if you don’t promise to take me in as a regular boarder, I’ll—I’ll—well, I’ll go and get married, that’s what I’ll do!”

“It is pleasant now that you are back,” said the young Alaskan, modestly. “It has been terribly lonely, though, and I had to work at something all the time to keep from thinking. I wanted awfully to go to the north side of the island and see how Mr. Coombs was getting along, but as it would have taken the best part of two days to get there and back, and you might have come in the meantime, I didn’t dare to. Now, if he were only here!”

“Yes, and old Kite Robinson, our family party would be complete, and we’d be almost as well off as if we were in Sitka. I declare I could kick myself when I remember that if I’d only taken your advice we might have been on our way to Sitka in your schooner by this time!”

“I don’t know about that,” responded Serge. “We couldn’t have gone off and left Mr. Coombs alone on the island.”

“That’s so! I never thought of that. Poor old Jalap! I wonder how he is getting on all alone, and what he thinks has become of us. We must go over to-morrow and relieve his anxiety, and take him a cup of tea. Perhaps his schooner hasn’t come along yet, and we shall be all right, after all.”

Bright and early the following morning the little camp was dismantled and abandoned. Kooga took his tent, and bidding farewell to the lads into whose lives he had entered so strangely, shoved off his bidarkie, and started on his lonely return trip to far Saanak. After watching him out of sight, the others loaded themselves with their newly-acquired camp outfit, and started on their long, toilsome march to the north side of the island.

When, after many hours of tramping, they came in sight of the now familiar ruins and their own barrabkie they were struck with the latter’s appearance of loneliness. There was no smoke nor sign of human presence. Filled with undefined anxiety, they hurried forward, only to find the hut abandoned, and a little heap of cold ashes in the place where its cheerful fire had blazed. The companion whom they had left there five days before had disappeared, nor could they find a clew to the time or manner of his departure.

“The schooner must have come, and he must have taken the seal-skins to Oonalaska in her,” suggested Phil.

“I should think so, too,” replied Serge, who had just returned from an inspection of the cache, “if it wasn’t for the fact that the seal-skins are still here, and apparently untouched.”