The Pony Rider Boys in Alaska Part 26

CHAPTER XVI

A SIGN FROM THE MOUNTAIN TOP

The surprise did not come until just before night closed in, shortly after ten o'clock that night.

A hard, grilling day had been spent on the trail, with little relief from their labors, which were divided between hauling the ponies up dangerous slopes, down almost sheer walls, across glacial streams cold as ice, and last but not least the fighting of giant mosquitoes and black gnats.

"There is only one thing lacking to make this country the limit,"

declared Stacy after they had made camp and settled down to warm themselves while the guide was getting supper.

"And what might that be?" questioned the Professor.

"Snakes!"

"Thank goodness there aren't any such things here," exclaimed Rector.

"It is bad enough as it is. Hark! What's that?"

"Him wolf," grunted the Indian.

"I should say there were several of 'him,'" laughed Tad Butler. "They seemed to be stirred up about something. Are they timber wolves, Anvik?"

The guide nodded and grunted.

"Are you afraid of wolves?" demanded Rector.

"No 'fraid wolves. Mebby 'fraid Ingalik."

Tad drew from this that the Indian had something in mind that he had not spoken to them about. The freckle-faced boy eyed the Indian keenly, but Anvik's impa.s.sive face told him nothing. The guide had discovered something else. Tad was sure of that, but what that something was the boy had not the slightest idea.

Tad's gaze roved about over the landscape, traveling slowly from mountain to mountain, from peak to peak. Twice he went over the rugged landscape spread out before them with his searching glances. Suddenly his gaze halted and fixed on the peak of a low mountain off to the northwest of them. Butler shaded his eyes, and Anvik, observing the action, followed the direction of the boy's gaze.

The guide made no move, nor did he change expression, but Tad saw that Anvik saw. A tiny ring of smoke was rising slowly from the low mountain peak, swaying lazily as it rose in the quiet air. It was almost white.

One might have taken it for a cloud did he not know better, and only a mountaineer would have known better.

A moment and a second ring ascended in the wake of the first one, then after another interval a third ring rose.

"What are you looking at?" demanded the Professor sharply.

"Smoke," answered Tad.

"Where?"

"On that low peak. Where are the gla.s.ses?"

Ned hurriedly fetched the gla.s.ses. He took the first look, but saw no smoke. Tad reached for them. By this time another ring was rising. It, like the first one he had seen, was followed by two others.

"It's a signal!" announced Butler quietly. "Now what can it mean?"

"It means trouble for us," spoke up Stacy. "I can feel it in my bones."

"Who would desire to make trouble for us here?" demanded the Professor.

"I don't know," replied Tad. "I don't believe that smoke has anything to do with us. It must be an Indian signal."

"No Indian," grunted Anvik. "Him white man smoke."

"How do you know?" questioned the Professor sharply.

"Me know."

"Then perhaps you may be able to tell us whose smoke it is?"

"Him white man. Mebby same man, mebby not. White man all same. Him call other white man. Him say some along, by jink."

"Let's make a smoke and answer him," suggested Ned eagerly. "That would be a joke on him, whoever he is."

Tad said "no," and said it emphatically.

"No make smoke," agreed the Indian. "Smoke want white man off yonder"--pointing to the southwest.

"How do you know that?" asked Butler.

"Smoke him go that way. Want us, smoke him go this way."

"I never knew that before," reflected Tad. "You see, boys, they make these signal smokes by building a smudge, then holding a blanket over the smudge. By removing the blanket and replacing it they can make a definite number of smokes, long smokes or short smokes; in fact, they can almost make words, like the telegraph. It is a wonderful thing. I wouldn't be surprised if those signals could be made out twenty or thirty miles away, if one had eyes sharp enough to detect them."

"But what are they signaling for?" demanded Stacy.

"I don't know. Anvik says it is white men. I can't tell you anything about that. Smoke is just smoke to me. They are communicating with someone. We shan't see them, as they must be all of ten miles away."

"Fifteen," corrected the guide.

"That shows how poorly a novice judges distances in this country,"

nodded Butler. "They may see our fire to-night. If they are friendly we shall no doubt meet them. If they are not, we may never see a sign of them again. That is the way I reason it out."

Anvik grunted and nodded. The Indian understood a great deal more of what was being said than one would have supposed. In fact, to look at him one would not think he had even heard anything of what was being said about him. He was the silent, impa.s.sive-faced stoic of his race.

After darkness had set in the boys scanned the mountains for the light of a campfire, but there was no light to be seen. The Pony Rider Boys'

campfire, however, was blazing up brightly, they having built up a large fire on purpose to attract the attention of the men who had made the smoke signals from the low mountain peak, low in comparison with the ten and fifteen thousand feet ranges about them. The boys turned in at midnight, a late hour for them, and were sound asleep within two minutes thereafter. They were aroused an hour later by the most terrifying roar they had ever listened to.

"What's the matter?" cried Tad, springing from his tent, trying to pierce the darkness with his gaze.

"Is--is the world coming to an end?" yelled Ned.