The Call of the Beaver Patrol Part 50

"Oh, it's all right!" returned the other. "That's the way I took possession of the place! I found the cabin deserted and just moved in."

"We can vacate if necessary," Will suggested.

"Oh, there's room enough for all of us, I take it!" answered the stranger. "My name is Cameron, and I spend only a day or two here occasionally. I was hoping when I saw your light that you were having a midnight supper. How about something to eat?"

"There's plenty in the cabin!" George replied. "We can give you either fish or bear steak for supper."

"Then I'm glad to find you here!" laughed the other, "for I've been traveling all day and I'm as hungry as a wolf!"

The visitor threw himself into a chair and began a careful survey of the interior, far more searching than the one made from the doorway.

"My name is Cameron, as I said before," he said, "and I'm prospecting for gold."

"Prospecting for gold on a glacier?" asked Will.

"Young man," Cameron replied, "there is plenty of gold in this vicinity.

The ice brought it here. I'm being laughed at by my friends," he continued, "because I'm searching for the mother lode. But, all the same, I've every prospect of discovering it!"

"The mother lode in a glacier?" asked Sandy.

"It is my theory," Cameron went on, "that the range of mountains to the north holds gold in large quant.i.ties. It is a part of my theory, too, that the drifting ice brought tons of it down to the moraine. If I find any gold here at all, I'll find it in quant.i.ties sufficient to clog the money markets of the world!"

Cameron looked from face to face as he spoke, apparently antic.i.p.ating a burst of enthusiasm from his listeners.

"Up on the Yukon," he went on, "the gold was found under the ice, where it had been deposited by glaciers which are now dead. The same conditions exist here. For all we know, there may be tons of the precious metal at the bottom of the first layer of ice."

"That's very true!" replied Will. "And if you don't mind, we'll stick around a short time and see what you discover."

"Remember," Cameron said then, "that this is my claim!"

"Of course," Will answered, "we wouldn't attempt to rob you of any legitimate discovery."

In the meantime George and Sandy were preparing a supper for the visitor. With their heads bent low over the gasoline "plate," they discussed the personality of the man and his theory in low conversation.

"How tall should you say that fellow was?" asked Sandy.

"About five foot six!" was the reply.

"And he's stout!"

"Decidedly so."

"And he wears a leather hunting shirt, and leather leggings, and he took off a pair of serviceable leather gloves when he entered?"

"I see what you're getting at," George replied, "Can you see whether there's a buckle missing from his leggings?"

"There is!" answered Sandy.

"And a patch missing from his hunting shirt?"

"Just as sure as you're a foot high!"

"Did you ever see such nerve?" whispered George. "He comes here and steals a sick boy, and then has the nerve to return and claim the cabin!"

"Well, I'm glad he came," Sandy whispered back. "All we've got to do now is to play the sleuth when he leaves the cabin."

"You mean that if we follow him in his journeys over the country we'll be apt to find Bert?" asked George.

"That's just the idea!" replied Sandy. "I wonder if his mug is sore where Bert extracted the whiskers?"

"I wonder if he expects to get a good night's sleep, with Bert lying in some uncomfortable hiding place?" George asked. "I'd like to poke him in the mug, just for luck!"

"That wouldn't help us find Bert," Sandy cautioned. "We've just got to be good to him and follow him wherever he goes."

"Watch me put him off his guard," George suggested.

"How long have you been in this neighborhood?" he asked, turning to Cameron. "I ask," the boy continued, "because one of our chums wandered away from the cabin while we were out fishing and hasn't returned."

Cameron's eyes sought the floor for a moment.

"I have just returned from the coast," he said, "so, unless your friend strayed off in that direction, I wouldn't have caught sight of him. Do you mean that he strayed away in the darkness?" he asked.

"No," replied George, "he strayed away this afternoon while temporarily out of his mind. My friends were out fishing, and I was asleep at the time. He received a slight wound on the head, from a fall, not long ago, and that is probably the cause of his aberration of mind."

The boys thought they saw a sudden expression of satisfaction creep over Cameron's face as George finished his explanation.

"If you'll serve Mr. Cameron's supper," Sandy said, giving George a sly wink, "I'll go with Will, and we'll take different directions so as to cover more ground. We are getting anxious about Bert."

Of course the object of the boys in leaving the cabin was to meet the Boy Scout who had signalled to them from the window. When they turned the corner of the cabin, they found a thin, pale lad in a torn and faded khaki uniform leaning against the outer wall.

"Why don't you come in?" asked Will.

"Is the miner in there yet?" asked the boy.

"Yes, he says the cabin belongs to him, and he's going to remain all night! What do you know of him?"

"Nothing at all!" replied the boy, "except that I've been following him for half a dozen miles in the hopes that he would lead me to some place where I could eat and sleep."

"Did you call out to him?" asked Will.

"No," was the answer. "I was afraid he would send me back if I did.

Miners in this section are not fond of leading strangers to their claims."

"Where do you belong?" asked Sandy pointing to the Bulldog badge displayed on the boy's ragged coat.

"Bulldog Patrol, Portland," was the reply.

"How'd you get out into this country in such a plight?" asked Will.