The Bungalow Boys Along the Yukon Part 12

"Let's try the oars again," suggested Jack.

"That's a fine idea if we only knew where to row to," rejoined Tom.

"I'm afraid we'll have to drift till the fog lifts. I've no more idea which way our course lies than the man in the moon."

"Same here. I'm all twisted up like a ball of yarn," admitted Jack.

Although they had been afloat for such a long time, it was still daylight. At that time of year in those regions it is light almost all day long. This was a good thing, for if darkness had overtaken them they would doubtless have become even more alarmed than they were. For some time they drifted on, when all at once a sudden shift of the wind came. The fog was whipped into white ropy wreaths that drifted off like smoke. And there before them, not half a mile off, was a fair sized bay edged by rocky cliffs, but green and tree-grown close by the water. The blue bay, smooth and calm compared to the open sea, led back into the heart of a n.o.ble mountain panorama. Beyond the coast hills were snow-covered peaks and inaccessible valleys. Between the hills that formed the bay, the vegetation was plainly fresh and verdant.

"Hurray!" shouted Jack, carried away by enthusiasm at the sight of land once more.

Tom checked him gently.

"Remember we have no idea where we are yet," he said. "This country is spa.r.s.ely settled and we may have stumbled on some desert part of it."

Jack's face fell, and Sandy, who had been about to share his rejoicing, remained silent.

"Can't you figure out what land this is?" asked Jack.

"I've not the remotest idea. I'm like you, all twisted up as to locality."

"That bore gave us such a shaking up, I couldn't tell east from west,"

observed Sandy.

"At any rate, that land yonder is no illusion," declared Tom cheerily.

"Come on, boys, get busy with the oars and we'll be ash.o.r.e in no time."

"I hope it is inhabited," said Jack.

"Same here; but that remains to be seen. At any rate, judging by the green trees and gra.s.s there's water there from the mountains beyond.

We can stop some place ash.o.r.e and make camp."

CHAPTER XII.

SHIFTING FOR THEMSELVES.

This was voted a good idea. As they drew closer to the sh.o.r.e the aspect of the little bay became more inviting.

Tom pointed to a strip of beach which bordered a rather deeper indentation on the edge of the inlet.

"I guess that's the place for us to land," he said. "Looks like there is water there and a good beach."

Wearily--for now that the strain of their wild ride on the tide-rip was over, they felt exhausted--wearily they pulled on the oars, moving the heavy dory slowly over the placid waters of the inlet. The sea, its force broken by an outcropping reef across the mouth of the miniature bay, broke gently on the sh.o.r.e, and it was an easy matter to make a landing. The dory was pulled as far up the beach as they in their tired state could manage, and its painter made fast to a stunted willow tree.

The beach, bordered with trees and stunted shrubs, rose upward. They mounted it and found themselves on a yielding, marshy carpet of moss.

It was the tundra of Alaska. It would have made hard walking to cross it, but while they were pondering the advisability of doing so, Tom made a discovery.

"Look! a path!" he exclaimed. "It runs right along here."

He pointed to a beaten path, plainly enough made by human beings, leading along the top of the "sea-wall" between the tundra marsh and the beach.

"There must be people here. Somebody must have made it."

"Evidently, and look over there, that's the answer."

Tom had followed the path slightly in advance of the others. Now he had come to a halt, pointing toward a singular structure at some little distance, toward which it was clear that the path led. The hut was shaped like a low beehive and appeared to be built of drift-wood and peat.

"It's a native hut of some sort," declared Jack, rather an alarmed look coming into his eyes.

The boys' experience with Aleuts had not inclined them to place much confidence in the natives, for it will be recalled that our heroes thought that their two boatmen had deliberately left them on the beach.

"There's no smoke coming from it," said Tom.

"In that case, maybe it is deserted."

"Perhaps so. But we had better be careful."

"That's right, after what we experienced from those two rascals of the pilot's, I'm taking no chances with these people."

Tom did not confide to his chums another bit of information that he had acquired concerning this part of Alaska from the captain of the _Northerner_. This was that in a part of the country in which they were cast away, the native tribes are ugly and vicious, never visiting a white settlement except when they must, and refusing to have any intercourse with Caucasians.

He had heard many tales of the bloodshed and theft attributed to these renegade natives, and as may be imagined, the thought that perhaps they had stumbled on a camp of them was not a pleasant one. However, Tom said nothing for fear of unnecessarily scaring his companions. The landscape looked wild enough to form the dwelling place of any desperate natives who, for any reason, wished to evade the United States revenue cutters and missionary ships.

But the need of water was imperative, and judging by the greater luxuriance of the trees and gra.s.s near the hut, there was water there.

In fact, the presence of the hut in that site argued the existence of water near by. They watched the solitary structure for some minutes.

But no sign of life appeared about it. Seemingly, they were the only human beings for many miles in that wild country.

"Well, come on," said Tom at length; "anything is better than enduring this thirst any longer, and I'm pretty sure there must be water yonder."

They followed the path and soon found themselves on the threshold of the hut. Its door, a clumsy contrivance, was ajar, and littered all about were fish bones, scales, and bones and remnants of animals. A rank odor a.s.sailed their nostrils, the true smell of an Aleut settlement.

Tom strode boldly forward and was about to cross the threshold when something dashed out of the hut, making him jump back with an involuntary shout of alarm. For a minute he was sure they had been attacked by whoever dwelt within. His companions, too, echoed his cry, but the next instant they all burst out laughing. What had alarmed them so was a small red fox that had darted off like a flash.

"That shows us no one is inside," chuckled Tom, turning to his comrades. "I guess we've dispossessed the sole inhabitant."

They crossed the threshold and found themselves in a low, smoke-begrimed structure with a dome-shaped roof. In the middle of the roof was a hole presumably for the smoke to escape, although soot hung thick on the rafters that supported the gra.s.s-sods, peat and earth that formed the covering of the rude dwelling.

Tom bent and examined a heap of ashes in the middle of the dirt floor under the hole.

"n.o.body has been here for a long time," he declared, "except wild beasts."

"I wonder who put it up?" inquired Sandy.

"Trappers, maybe; but most likely Aleuts," replied Tom. "I've seen pictures of their huts and they are very like this one. I never thought we'd have to take up quarters in one, though."