The Young Treasure Hunter Part 17

Johnson needed no urging, but, as he had not put on his snowshoes, which were on the back of the sled, he plunged up to his thighs into a deep drift, and could make only slow progress, while the broad-runner sled skimmed over the frozen snow at top speed, pulled by the wild dogs.

It looked serious for a few moments, but Holfax leaped on his sled, and with a word to his trained beasts, sent them after the runaways, rounding them up before they had gone more than a mile.

"We're getting to the end of this wilderness," remarked Mr. Baxter, when the dogs had been driven back, and camp was in process of making.

"By to-morrow night we ought to be through it."

"Then where will we be?" asked Fred.

"At the edge of a big plateau, according to Holfax. That plain leads to the second range of mountains, in which is located the waterfall, near the cave of which the gold is supposed to be buried."

"I hope we find it," remarked Fred.

"So do I," added Mr. Baxter. "If we don't we'll have had a lot of trouble and expense for nothing."

Fred felt the responsibility that rested on him, but he knew he was taking the same chances as the others, though he was not risking as much as was Mr. Baxter.

It was bitter cold that night. By the spirit thermometer it was nearly fifty degrees below zero, and, wrapped up as they were, in thick furs, with a great fire going outside the tent, and the alcohol stove lighted inside, the adventurers were nearly frozen. They had to get up every now and then, and stamp their feet and throw their arms about, in order to keep the blood in circulation.

"Look at that," said Fred, as, in the glow from the alcohol stove, he pointed to a mercury thermometer they had with them. The little silver column had vanished from the tube, and the quicksilver was in a little globule at the bottom.

"Yes, it's frozen solid," remarked Mr. Baxter. "You could use it for a bullet if you wanted to. Mercury freezes at forty degrees below zero."

"Does alcohol ever freeze?" asked Jerry.

"It has been frozen, with artificial cold, at two hundred and three degrees below zero, but we are not likely to reach that here. If it got much colder than this I'd want to turn back. But I guess we're about at the frostiest part of our trip."

Hot tea served to make the travelers more comfortable, but even the effects of that wore off after a while.

"I can understand now, how those Russians can drink seventeen or eighteen cups in succession," remarked Fred. "They have to do it almost constantly to keep from getting frozen stiff."

"That's about it," admitted Mr. Baxter.

They were all glad when morning came, and they had a glimpse of the sun, even if the golden ball was not so very heating. At any rate it was more cheerful than the long night, with the mysterious Aurora Borealis flashing in the sky.

To make sure of the route for that day's travel Mr. Baxter got out the map, and he and Holfax examined it, before the dogs were hitched to the sleds.

"I think we are really in the treasure district," said the old gold hunter, as he looked at the copy of the tracing made by the German.

"Here is shown the end of the forest, and the great plain over which we have to go to get to the waterfall. Well, boys, we will be there in a day or two, now."

"That's good," remarked Fred. "I'll be glad to get back to warm, sunny California again, where I can wear ordinary clothes."

Mr. Baxter was returning the map to the fur case in which he carried it.

On account of the heavy mittens he and all the adventurers had to wear, his hands were not very certain in their movements. When he had replaced the map in the case, he endeavored to slip the latter inside his fur coat, where he had a pocket in which it was kept.

But his hand slipped, and the fur case, map and all fell to the snow-covered ground. An instant later, one of the big hungry dogs, doubtless thinking it was something to eat, rushed up and made a grab for it, carrying it away in its strong jaws, and snapping and snarling at its fellow brutes that tried to take away what they supposed was a choice morsel of seal blubber.

"Catch him!" cried Mr. Baxter. "If he tears that case, and spoils the map, we'll never find the treasure!"

"I'll git him!" cried Johnson, gliding on his snowshoes after the dog.

But the brute saw him coming, and ran farther off.

"Hold on, or I'll shoot you!" called the negro.

"No, don't shoot!" cried Mr. Baxter. "If we lose even one dog it will go hard with us."

"He's tearing the case!" yelled Fred.

"The map is lost!" exclaimed Mr. Baxter.

"Me get him!" spoke Holfax, running up. "Me show how make dog drop map."

It was a critical moment. In another instant the strong teeth of the dog would make the map undecipherable, and the trip would end disastrously.

CHAPTER XV

IN THE CAVE

With a swift motion the Indian ran to the sled containing, among other things, the food for the dogs. He burrowed beneath the fur coverings, that were firmly lashed down, to prevent the animals eating all their supplies at one meal, and brought out several frozen fish. Now the Alaskan dog loves fish above everything else, and when Holfax had tossed several on the snow, there was a mad rush of the s.h.a.ggy, wolf-like creatures to secure some.

Even those dogs crowded around the one that had the map-case, ceased worrying him, and bolted to get a share of the good things so unexpectedly cast before them. The rush, and the sight of the fish, was too much for the canine thief. He dropped the map, and made a bolt for the fish.

"Now git um," said Holfax, and Johnson, who was nearest, rushed forward and secured the precious doc.u.ment.

"Is it injured?" asked Fred, as Mr. Baxter began to examine it.

"No, I think not. I'll have to be more careful in the future. That dog nearly ate a fortune."

Stowing the map securely away, Mr. Baxter helped the boys and Johnson strike the tent, and load the sleds for that day's trip. It was not as cold as it had been during the night, but there was a feeling of snow in the air.

"Git plenty bad storm quick soon," remarked Holfax, as he again fastened the coverings on the provision sled.

"Do you think we had better start then?" asked Mr. Baxter.

"Bad here--bad there," replied the Indian, with a sweep of his arm toward the distant mountain range. "Bad all over--plenty bad--bad go--bad stay."

"Then as long as we're going to be in for it one way or the other, we might as well start. Come, boys, are you ready?"

"All ready, dad," mumbled Jerry from the depths of his fur collar.

"How about you, Fred?"

"My sled is all ready."

"Then we'll start."