The Radio Boys Rescue the Lost Alaska Expedition Part 26

"h.e.l.lo, there. Keep 'er goin', sonny."

Into the light of the fire a moment later strode a big fur-clad figure of a man on snowshoes. On his back was a pack which he dropped to the ground with a sigh of relief. Then he leaned his rifle in the crook of an elbow and, pulling off great fur mittens, spread his hands to the blaze, working his fingers gratefully back and forth.

"Cold an' gittin' colder," he announced, casually. "Got a nice fire here."

Jack was nonplussed. In the first place, to find another wanderer in this wilderness which they believed unpeopled was exciting enough. But to have him walk in casually and without vouchsafing any explanation of his presence took Jack's breath away for the moment. Yet Jack knew enough of the woodland lore to realize that hospitality is the first law of the wilds, and that questions distinctly would not be in order. He decided the best thing for him would be to wait for the other to take the lead in the conversation.

This the intruder was not slow to do, beginning even as he eased his stiffened fingers in the warmth of the fire.

"Didn't know there was anybody else in this country," he said. "Been around here long?"

A look of clumsy craft from under s.h.a.ggy brows accompanied the question.

Jack had to smile to himself.

"No; not long," he said composedly. "And you?"

"Oh, I been huntin' an' trappin' 'round here," the other said.

To Jack it seemed the man was an honest enough, even a likeable, type, and yet that he was acting evasively. He decided it would be a good plan to get a more experienced head to help him deal with the situation. None of his party apparently was awake, all being worn out with the terrific strain of the day's travel. But Art lay near him. In fact, his foot was not six inches from Jack.

Unostentatiously, in order not to attract the newcomer's attention, Jack moved his foot to a position where with his toe he could tap on Art's ankles. It was sufficient for the purpose apparently, for, out of the tail of his eye Jack saw Art's body stiffen and his head lift up slightly from the ground. For what followed, however, he was totally unprepared.

Art sprang to his feet, leaped forward and began thumping the newcomer vigorously on the back.

"Why, you ol' son-of-a-gun," he cried. "You ol' son-of-a-gun."

"Li'l Artie, or I'm goin' blind," cried the other, seizing Art by the hand and pumping up and down.

Jack turned in amazement to Art.

"Why-why-you know each other!" he cried.

"Know each other? Har, har, har," roared the giant, in a guffaw that aroused the others about the campfire. "Know each other? That's a good one."

Mr. Hampton, Farnum, Bob and Frank, Farrell and several of the others gathered around, looking their questions, and Art turned to satisfy them.

"Ever hear o' Long Jim Golden?" he asked. "Well, this is him-the daggonedest trapper on the face o' the earth. Ain't seen him in years since he left Circle City in the rush. Where you been, Jim?"

"Trappin'." Jim looked around at the interested faces. "You tol' who I am," he said. "Now tell me who's your friends, Artie."

"Sure," said Art heartily, effecting introductions. "Here we all are,"

he concluded, and then his face fell as he added: "but where we'll be soon, I don't know, nor what's to become of us."

Long Jim looked first at one, then at another, then his eyes roved over the camp.

"How come?" he asked. "No sleds nor dogs nor snowshoes nor nothin'. How come?"

"Sit here by the fire and I'll tell you, Jim," said Art. "The rest o'

you, we won't bother you none with loud voices. We'll jest whisper-like.

You'll want to turn in and sleep, so go to it."

Nothing loath, the others with the exception of Jack, who moved to one side so as not to intrude on the two old acquaintances thus strangely reunited, turned in and soon were once more asleep.

Briefly as possible, Art explained to Long Jim the circ.u.mstances leading up to their present position. From across the fire, Jack watched them.

He saw that Long Jim paid close attention to Art's narrative and that, indeed, it seemed to affect him strangely. For over his open, rugged features, not constructed to conceal their owner's moods, swept doubt, uncertainty, indecision, as if within the man was going on a fight between two contending forces. Jack was puzzled. What could Long Jim be thinking of?

Then Long Jim slowly rose to his feet, placing a hand on the shoulder of his companion who remained seated but looking up at him. Jack unconsciously moved closer as the big trapper appeared about to speak.

He did not want to eavesdrop, but Long Jim's expression had puzzled him greatly. What could it mean?

"Artie," said Long Jim in a louder tone than that in which their whispered conversation had been carried on, and one that reached Jack's ears, "Artie, my boy," he said, "I wish you didn't have them skunks with ye."

"Them breeds," said Art, jerking a thumb back over a shoulder to indicate the prisoners sleeping about the other fire.

"Them same," said Long Jim. "Cause why, you asks me? Cause I got a paradise to take you all to, where you can spend the Winter lapped in comfort. An' I don't want to take no rascals like them half-breeds there. But--"

Art was on his feet, excitement struggling with disbelief.

"What? What you mean, Long Jim?"

"Jest what I says," answered the other emphatically. "A paradise, I calls it. An' a paradise it is. An' the quicker we git there the better, so wake up your friends an' let me talk to 'em. If we have to take them skunks, why, we'll take 'em."

CHAPTER XXIV.-A TALE OF PARADISE.

At the insistence of Long Jim, Art and Jack, who had been called to join the pair, speedily re-aroused their friends.

"I ain't no hand for talkin'," Long Jim declared in answer to Art's requests for further information. "I got to tell this. But onct oughter be enough. No use my tellin' you an' then tellin' the rest o' them all over agin."

Jack smiled discreetly. Long Jim claimed he was "no hand for talking,"

yet his tongue wagged continually. However, his heart seemed in the right place, and certainly he spoke emphatically enough of a haven not too far away to which they could go for refuge. What was it he called it? "Paradise." Jack was anxious to hear, and wasted no time on gentle methods in arousing the sleepers.

"Lookit here," said Long Jim, as the circle gathered around him. "Art's been tellin' me the trouble you folks is in. Looks to me like you moughtn't be able to make it out o' this country."

Mr. Hampton nodded grave confirmation.

"Well, I know of a place that's paradise," said Long Jim, impressively.

"An' I'll take ye all there, an' ye can spend the Winter-warm, game, everything there. Only thing, like I tol' Artie here, is I hate to have to take them skunks o' half-breeds in there. They'll be a-comin' back later an' ruin the country."

"But I don't understand," said Mr. Hampton. "What is it you are talking about?"

"Don't blame ye," said Long Jim. "Think maybe the ol' man's crazy, don't ye? Don't blame ye for that, neither. But, look here, night's dyin' an'

if ye stand up an' look where I'm pointin' ye'll see somethin'."

Mr. Hampton arose wonderingly, and the others also stood up.

"Thar," said Long Jim, stretching an arm to the westward. "What d'ye see?"