The Radio Boys Rescue the Lost Alaska Expedition Part 2

"All right, Dad," Jack had agreed. "But, remember, the selection of the radio equipment is to be left to the fellows and me. We've had a lot of experience with the value of radio when in a tight place, especially in South America, and we want to put that experience to use and be prepared for every contingency this time."

To this Mr. Hampton readily had agreed, with the result that in Seattle the three boys had revelled in the radio equipment stores, which they found well stocked, as the use of radio had developed greatly on the Pacific.

In consequence, their outfit included radio field equipment of the most powerful, yet most compact, designs. For while Mr. Hampton fully realized the value of having the very best yet he had issued a solemn warning that bulk must be considered.

"We will have to travel as lightly as consistent with safety and the purpose of our expedition," he had said. "So don't pile up anything too heavy or bulky, or it will have to be discarded."

Jack knew well that the distance which can be covered with a radiophone transmitter is only about one-fourth as great as that of a wireless telegraph transmitter having the same input of initial current.

Therefore, as a means of sending messages, supposedly for aid, over long distances, the wireless telegraph would be the better, inasmuch as equipment for it would be less bulky to transport than equipment for transmitting the human voice. Nevertheless, he was reluctant to place their sole dependence upon the wireless telegraph.

"You see, Dad," he had pointed out to his father, when the outfit was being a.s.sembled, "to reach the outside we shall have to depend upon wireless telegraph. But we will also need the radiophone for this reason: that each one of us ought to have a means of calling the main party in case we become separated through going on scouting or hunting expeditions, or for any reason."

"Well, that sounds sensible," his father had agreed. "Go ahead with your plans, but, remember, hold down the bulk."

The result was that equipment capable of telegraphing five hundred miles was a.s.sembled, but also Jack made up five light field sets of radio, one for each of their party and for Farnum, which the user could pack in his clothing and which had a radius up to twenty-five miles. The instrument was Jack's now famous ring radio, worn on the finger, with a setting only one inch by five-eighths of an inch. Formerly an umbrella as aerial had been employed but Jack had done entirely away with that in his improved set.

"Well, fellows," said Jack, at last, as Nome faded entirely from view, "I wonder what lies ahead. I wonder whether Thorwaldsson's expedition was stricken down by a plague, which seems hardly likely, as in that case surely somebody would have managed to get word to the outside by wireless or airplane, or whether it fell victim to a surprise attack by Indians at night, as I understand from Dad that Farnum believes."

"Is that so," said Frank, in surprise. "That's the first I heard of that."

"Yes," said Jack. "Dad told me of it when we were coming aboard this schooner. He said it was the first intimation Farnum had given him that such might be the case, and also his first intimation that there were hostile Indians in this country into which we are going. If it weren't too late, he told me, he would have turned back rather than imperil us, as it is, we shall go pretty warily and try to steer clear of the hostile Indian country."

"Whew," said Bob, "this sounds interesting, hey, what?"

His eyes began to shine.

"Old Bob. Always ready for a fight," said Frank. "Well, let's give him one."

And incontinently, he and Jack fell upon the big fellow and a tussle followed that ended only when they almost fell overboard.

CHAPTER III.-IN THE WILDERNESS.

"Well, boys, tomorrow we leave the schooner."

It was Tom Farnum who made the announcement over dinner which was eaten on deck. The boat was anch.o.r.ed offsh.o.r.e, far up the Hare Indian River, one of the great tributaries of the MacKenzie. How long it was since they had left Nome none could tell, for in that land of perpetual daylight it was hard to keep track of time.

"Tomorrow," said big Bob, "when is tomorrow?"

He looked at the sun which was still high, despite the lateness of the hour, and would make only an ineffectual attempt to dip below the horizon at midnight, before resuming its upward climb.

Everybody laughed.

"What a topsy turvy land," said Jack. "Well, I, for one, will be glad to go ash.o.r.e and stretch my legs. Wonderful as the trip has been so far, I'm eager to get started."

"Same here," agreed Frank.

Little of moment had occurred to interrupt the monotony of the trip up the coast and along the northern edge of Alaska and the North American continent to the mouth of the MacKenzie. Of course, occasional ice floes had been encountered and the little schooner had been compelled to make wide detours. But that was to be expected in that Far Northern lat.i.tude.

In fact, when they had arrived at the mouth of the MacKenzie, the ice was only recently dissipated from the great river. There, at a dock where a little sidewheel steamer that plied on the MacKenzie in Summer was tied up for repairs, they had replenished their stock of gasoline and then continued the ascent, pa.s.sing between willowed banks, where huddled occasional trading posts surrounded by native villages, with the snow-capped mountain peaks always in the distance.

Then they had reached the mouth of the Hare Indian River and soon had put beyond them all appearance of the presence of man.

"This is the way Thorwaldsson's party expected to go," Farnum had said.

"For it was this route which Farrell and Cameron, the two prospectors, followed on their way in. They were prospecting for gold, you know, had no idea of finding oil. It was their original intention to strike northeast across the numerous streams at the head of the Hare Indian in search of gold. And Farrell reported, when he reached the outside, that he had found traces and, in fact, several sizable pockets of gold."

Accordingly they pushed on up the Hare Indian a number of days until, in fact, the extra supplies of gasoline which had been taken aboard on leaving the MacKenzie dwindled to the point where it became advisable for the party to go ash.o.r.e in order that the schooner might turn about and have sufficient fuel to make its way downstream to the supply depot.

It was a period of time that, in fact, however, could hardly be considered in terms of days. So far north had the party come that the sun shone perpetually. It was only at midnight, for a brief s.p.a.ce, that it dipped to the horizon.

And what a gorgeous time it had proven to be for all concerned, but especially for the boys. As the powerful little schooner forged ahead, there was not a bend the rounding of which did not afford a surprise.

Sometimes it would be caribou or reindeer, probably an escape from some Eskimo herd, which would be surprised standing in the water, and breaking for the timber on the bank at their approach. Again brown bear would be seen on the bank, or beaver swimming strongly across the stream. As for fishing, it was an Izaak Walton paradise. All Bob, Frank and Jack did for hours on end was to lean overside with hooks baited with bacon rind dangling in the water astern, and pull in speckled beauties. And many a meal was made, too, on wild duck or geese, picked off with a light rifle.

Then came the time when Tom Farnum announced that they would stay ash.o.r.e on the morrow. And little sleep did the boys have that night, as they lay awake on deck, whispering to each other, an awning shading them from the sun.

Early the next morning they went ash.o.r.e with their outfit, and then watched the gasoline schooner throb off downstream, around the last bend, and out of sight. As it disappeared, for the first time there came to each of the three boys the feeling of isolation natural to their situation. The last settlement was two hundred miles behind them. They were going into the great unknown, into the regions marked "Unexplored"

on the maps of that great northern rim of the North American continent.

True, the weather was fine now and the country green and pleasant about them. But how long would that endure? What if they were beset by oncoming Winter before they could make their way to the outside? What if they were attacked by hostile Indians? What obscure fate had met the Thorwaldsson expedition, traces of which they sought?

Into the mind of each thronged such thoughts, as they stood in unwonted silence. Then Mr. Hampton called to them.

"No time for day-dreaming. Each man to his job."

With him Tom Farnum had brought two trusted men. They hailed from Nome, but were old-timers who had been up and down Alaska for many years. Both were men of forty, sober, steady fellows who would be useful in helping distribute the burden of packs, and would, moreover, be of inestimable value in keeping the party supplied with game as well as in almost any situation that might arise. They were grizzled, weather-beaten men of medium height, both with stout frames, and because of their long existence in the lonesome north little given to talking. Their names were d.i.c.k Fairwell and Art Bowman, and they were "d.i.c.k" and "Art" to each other and the other members of the party. The boys had taken a liking to both.

Two light canoes had been brought along from Nome, lashed to the deck of the schooner, and in these the seven set out. The boys with d.i.c.k occupied one canoe, the other three men with a larger portion of the luggage the other.

When everything was in readiness, following a light breakfast on the bank, the two canoes set out, that containing Farnum, Mr. Hampton and Art taking the lead. About ten miles upstream a rapids was encountered, and around this the first portage was made. Then once more they took to the water.

Day followed day, in this fashion, as they pushed steadily forward, until almost a week had elapsed. On the fifth day Tom Farnum let out a whoop of joy and headed his canoe for the right bank of the stream at a little gravelly beach. His sharp eye had detected a small cairn of stones on the edge of the brush, and when the others came up with him and stepped from their craft he was busily demolishing the stones comprising the mound.

"A marker," was the only explanation he vouchsafed. "Must have been left by Thorwaldsson. Ah."

At the exclamation he stood upright, holding a small metal box in his hand. The lid was rusted on, and in his impatience, Farnum whipped out a knife and gouged it off while the others crowded around him. Inside was a fold of oilskin, which he ripped open. A folded paper was revealed, which he opened. Then he read aloud the message thereon.

"It's from Thorwaldsson all right. Listen," he said, and read:

"Please notify Mr. Otto Anderson, Ashland Block, Seattle, Wash., that I pa.s.sed here July 2. Party intact with exception of crew sent as he ordered. Farrell says we are on right track.

"Thorwaldsson."

"What does he mean by that reference to the crew?" asked Jack.

"Well," said Farnum, glancing at Mr. Hampton, "as your father knows, that is one of the unexplained and puzzling facts of the situation, that about the ship. You see, a skeleton crew was to be left aboard the ship and it was to winter in the MacKenzie. But of ship or crew, we have found no trace. Search for the ship was prosecuted at the first opportunity this Spring, but it had disappeared. I made a trip up the MacKenzie myself, but the only information I could gather was an occasional rumor at a trading post that a schooner had gone by, on its way out, at night. A ship that might have been the Viking, Thorwaldsson's craft. That was last Fall. Perhaps, the skeleton crew feared to winter in the MacKenzie and started for the outside, and was caught in a storm which it was not sufficiently strong to weather. Only three or four men were to be left aboard. That is the only explanation I could think of."