The Bungalow Boys Along the Yukon Part 17

"We never were better in our lives," cried Tom, deftly catching a rope that came snaking down as the steamer's speed diminished. "But how in the world did you come to run across us? Talk about a needle in a haystack!"

"Never mind the details now, my boy. Come on board at once. I can hardly wait till I see you."

Not many minutes later, in the comfortable cabin of the _Northerner_, Tom, Jack and Sandy, ragged and begrimed, were telling, between intervals of eating and drinking, the tale of their strange adventures since they were lost in the fog. When they had concluded the tale, Tom inquired of his uncle how it was that he had so miraculously found them.

"If you hadn't almost run us down we'd never have seen you," Tom continued, "for I was too sleepy to keep my eyes open."

Mr. Dacre's story was soon told. The two Aleuts who had apparently deserted the boys had really come back from the village with food.

They were terrified when they found the boys and the dory gone, for they knew that it was time for the daily tide-bore to sweep through the straits. Getting a native canoe, they made their way to Kadiak, sought out Mr. Dacre and told him what had happened. The _Northerner_ was at once put in commission for the hunt, although Mr. Dacre confessed that he had had a dreadful fear, not unshared by Mr.

Chillingworth and the captain, that the boys had been caught in the tidal bore and lost.

From the captain's knowledge of the coast, they had been able to make a fairly intelligent search. Just before the brief darkness closed in that night they had made out a column of smoke rising on the horizon, and more as a forlorn hope than anything else, had made toward it, hoping against hope that it had been kindled by the young castaways.

"And so it was," laughed Tom happily, his hand finding his uncle's.

"After all, maybe those bears were a blessing in disguise. If it hadn't been for them, we wouldn't have lighted that fire, and if it hadn't been for the fire, you'd like as not never have found us."

CHAPTER XVII.

THE "YUKON ROVER."

Some weeks later there steamed away from the wharf side at St.

Michaels, a small, stern-wheeled craft of light draught. So light was it, in fact, that the loungers on the dock who watched its departure declared that it would be possible to navigate it on a heavy dew.

It bore the name _Yukon Rover_, and was painted white with a single black smoke-stack. As it drew away from the dock, it blew a salute of three whistles which was answered by a fair-sized steamer lying in the roads.

As our readers will have guessed, the _Yukon Rover_ was the portable steam craft which had been shipped north to the Yukon on the deck of the _Northerner_, which latter was the vessel that replied to the small craft's farewell. The _Northerner_ was to return to Seattle, carrying down what cargo she could pick up, and come back late in the year with a cargo for the needs of the country during the rigid Alaskan winter, when little can be shipped. In this way Mr. Dacre and Mr. Chillingworth hoped to make their venture additionally profitable.

On the bow of the small light-draught craft was a strange ornament.

This figure-head, if such it can be called, was nothing more nor less than the figure of a buck-toothed man roughly carved out of wood and daubed with faded paint. In a word, it was Sandy MacTavish's mascot, now a.s.signed to duty on the small craft which was to carry the adventurers up the turbulent currents of the mighty Yukon.

As to the _Yukon Rover's_ mission, there was much speculation in St.

Michaels concerning it. But the consensus of opinion was that the two gentlemen and the boys were going on a scientific expedition of some sort. The "Bug Hunters" was the name bestowed upon them in the far northern town from whence embarkation for the mouth of the Yukon was made.

This suited Mr. Dacre and his partner well enough, as they had no wish for the real object of their expedition to become known. The hunters and trappers of the Far North are a jealous, vindictive lot when they imagine that what they consider their inalienable rights to the fur and feather of the land are being invaded by outsiders.

Both gentlemen knew that if any suspicion of the real object of their voyage leaked out, much trouble might be made for them, although it was still rather early in the year for any trappers to be going "inside," as penetrating into the interior of Alaska is called.

A shed near the waterfront had been rented and ways constructed, and here the _Yukon Rover_ had been rapidly put together by the engineers from the _Northerner_. But on her trip up the river the boys were to act as machinists and stokers, and as the _Yukon Rover's_ machinery was simple enough, this was a delightful and interesting task to them.

Like most healthy, normal boys, our young friends liked to tinker with machinery, and they had had plenty of instruction in their new duties on the trial trips of the stern-wheeler.

Tom, who had been relieved at the engines by Jack, while Sandy attended to stoking the small boiler, adapted to either wood or coal burning, came on deck and surveyed the scene they were leaving behind them.

Astern was St. Michael, lying on the island which bears its name and which is separated from the mainland by a shallow strip of water known as St. Michael's Slough. The town was uninteresting and he was not sorry to leave it, a feeling that his two chums fully shared.

The white houses, the spire of the old Russian Church and the odd-looking fort, half ruinous, which stood near the Alaska Trading Company's hotel, were the most conspicuous features of the dull, drab town. There was hardly a tree on the island, and fuel was in the main supplied by the timber which in flood time drifted down the Yukon from the interior in great quant.i.ties and was washed up on the beach or secured in boats.

"Good-by, St. Michael, and ho, for the Yukon!" thought Tom, as turning his face in the other direction, he gazed forward.

The _Yukon Rover_ was ploughing along at about eight knots an hour.

Black smoke pouring from her stack showed that Sandy was keeping up his furnace faithfully. Forward of the bow-like structure which contained sleeping and eating accommodations, was a miniature pilot house. In this was Mr. Dacre at the wheel, while beside him Mr.

Chillingworth was poring over charts of the treacherous sandy delta that marks the junction of the Yukon and the sea. The course was southwest, along a flat, dreary-looking coast that afforded nothing much worthy of notice.

Since their memorable adventures at Kadiak, life had moved dully for the excitement-loving Bungalow Boys. Tom found himself hoping that now that their voyage for the Yukon had fairly begun, they would find some lively times. How near at hand these were and how lively they were to be, he did not dream as the _Yukon Rover_, rolling slightly in the swell, made her way toward the "Golden River."

Jack joined his brother on deck.

"Everything running smoothly?" asked Tom.

"Smooth as silk," declared Jack. "Say, isn't it fine to be under way again after sticking around St. Michael like b.u.mps on a log?"

"I should say so. I have a notion that we are going to have some fun, too, before we get through."

"Same here. Well, I'm ready for whatever happens, short of another tidal bore. One was quite enough for me."

That afternoon they came in sight of the northern mouth of the Yukon, by which they were to enter the stream. It required skillful steering to guide the _Yukon Rover_ through the maze of sand bars and shoals that encompa.s.sed her, and they had not gone far between the low, marshy sh.o.r.es when Mr. Dacre gave a hail from the pilot house through the speaking tube that connected the steering compartment with the engine-room.

"Leave your engines a while to Sandy's care," he ordered Jack, who answered the hail, "and come on deck."

Tom and Jack lost no time in obeying the summons, and found that they were required to manipulate the big poles, with which it was necessary to help guide the small steamer against the stiff current. It was hard work, even with the aid of Mr. Chillingworth, to keep the _Yukon Rover_ on her course, but from time to time the stream widened out and became deeper and they got a short respite.

Toward dusk they pa.s.sed a native canoe or bidarka, a narrow-beamed, cranky craft of walrus skins stretched over frames. In it sat two high-cheek-boned natives with slanting eyes, bearing remarkable resemblances to the inhabitants of j.a.pan. The small, cranky craft shot swiftly past and was followed, round a bend in the river, by three more. The natives appeared not to pay much attention to the steamer, although the boys shouted and hulloed in salute as they pa.s.sed.

A short time after pa.s.sing the natives, Jack announced that the engine, a new one, was heating up badly and that it would be necessary to stop and make a thorough inspection of the machinery. Accordingly, the _Yukon Rover_ was tied to the bank and preparations made for a somewhat lengthy stop.

Flocks of wild geese and other birds could be seen settling down above the flat country surrounding them, and the boys begged permission to go out with their guns. That is, Tom and Sandy did. Jack was too busy on his engines to spare the time. The notion of a hunting trip to kill time till supper was voted a good one, and Mr. Dacre and Mr.

Chillingworth decided to accompany the boys.

Full of high spirits, the party struck off across the tundra, leaving Jack hard at work on the machinery. They had been gone perhaps an hour when the boy was surprised to hear a step in the engine-room. He looked up quickly, thinking that possibly it was his friends returning, but instead, facing him, he saw the yellow face and skin-clad figure of one of the natives who had pa.s.sed them in the canoes. Jack possessed a mind that worked quickly. A notion shot into his head that the fellow was there on mischief bent, and certainly the startled way in which he regarded the boy supported that suspicion.

It was plain that the native had not expected to find anyone on board the _Yukon Rover_, and that he and his companions, some of whom now swarmed into the engine-room, had imagined, from the fact that they had seen the hunting party, that the craft was deserted by all hands.

This being the case, they had returned to see what they could find in the way of small plunder. Jack recalled having heard at St. Michaels that the natives of the Yukon are notorious small thieves and he at once decided that knavery was the purpose of their visit.

He stood up, monkey-wrench in hand, and facing the first arrival, who seemed to be the leader, he demanded of him what he wanted. The man appeared not to understand him. It was at this instant that Jack noticed that under the arms of the other natives were cans of provisions and other small articles plainly pilfered from the store-room of the steamer.

The boy was in a quandary for a moment. There were six of the natives and he was alone on the boat. Doubtless, too, the hunting party was out of ear-shot. It was an anxious moment for the boy as he stood there facing the pilfering natives and undecided how to act.

But the next moment there came to him that indignation which everyone feels when marauders intrude upon his possessions.

"Hey, you! What do you mean by stealing those things?" demanded Jack, indicating the cans and other articles which the natives had tucked under their arms.

The chief broke silence with what was meant for a friendly grin.

"Me good mans! All good mans!" he said.