Project Gutenberg's The Pony Rider Boys in Alaska, by Frank Gee Patchin This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: The Pony Rider Boys in Alaska The Gold Diggers of Taku Pass Author: Frank Gee Patchin Release Date: December 2, 2009 [EBook #30588] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PONY RIDER BOYS IN ALASKA *** Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net “I File the Claim!” Shouted Tad. Frontispiece. The Pony Rider Boys in Alaska OR The Gold Diggers of Taku Pass By FRANK GEE PATCHIN Author of The Pony Rider Boys in the Rockies, The Pony Rider Boys in Texas, The Pony Rider Boys in Montana, The Pony Rider Boys in the Ozarks, The Pony Rider Boys in the Alkali, The Pony Rider Boys in New Mexico, The Pony Rider Boys in the Grand Canyon, The Pony Rider Boys with the Texas Rangers, The Pony Rider Boys on the Blue Ridge, The Pony Rider Boys in New England, The Pony Rider Boys in Louisiana, etc., etc. Illustrated THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY Akron, Ohio New York Made in U. S. A. Copyright MCMXXIV By THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA CONTENTS PAGE Chapter I–Through Enchanting Waters 11 The mystery of the Gold Diggers. The story of an Indian capture. The skipper gives himself a hunch. The lure of the yellow metal. The abode of an angry spirit. Chapter II–The Boys Scent a Plot 29 Ned Rector puts his foot in. The man with the combustible whiskers. Tad overhears an exciting conversation. His duty not clear to him. Attacked by a desperado. Chapter III–In Desperate Straits 40 Almost hurled overboard. Help comes in the nick of time. Tad accuses his assailant. Whiskers as evidence. Plotters are driven from the ship by young Butler. Chapter IV–On the Overland Trail 48 “You have neglected your horse education.” Tad amazes a horse trader. Chunky wants no “quick” mules. Driving a keen bargain. The boys decide to guide themselves. Chapter V–Traveling a Dangerous Mountain Pass 59 The Professor tells the boys about the “great country.” When a fellow needs a bird’s eye. A toboggan slide that might reach to Asia. Pony Rider Boys hear a terrifying sound. Chapter VI–Caught in a Giant Slide 69 A pack mule swept from the ledge. Tad fires a humane shot. Taking desperate chances to rescue the pack. “I don’t propose to lose my lasso.” Chapter VII–Going to Bed by Daylight 82 How the pack mule was buried. Heavy obstacles are overcome. A cure for cold feet. The fat boy knows his own capacity. Tents are swallowed up in the gloom of an Alaskan night. Chapter VIII–An Intruder in the Camp 91 The fat boy’s singing brings disaster. Professor Zepplin wields his stick. A wild scrimmage in pajamas. The mystery of the lost ham. “There has been a prowler in this camp while we slept!” Chapter IX–A Mystery Unsolved 103 “It was an Indian who did this job.” Stacy is roped out of bed. Two fish on one hook. Suspicion is directed toward Tad. Ned’s head suffers the loss of some hair. Chapter X–In the Home of the Thlinkits 113 Ned Rector is full of fight. Stacy makes Tad Butler dance. Chunky plans revenge. The fat boy finds a food emporium. A mother squaw in a rage. Chapter XI–The Guide Who Made a Hit 125 “Me heap big smart man.” Anvik refuses to “mush” because the spirits are abroad. “Him kick like buck caribou.” Tad Butler gets a new title. Off for the wilds. Chapter XII–In the Heart of Nature 136 From trail to trackless wilderness. A grilling hike. Tad, in a fine shot, bags an antelope. “Hooray! Maybe that was a chance shot!” A ducking in an icy mountain stream. Chapter XIII–A Pony Rider Boy’s Pluck 146 Tad carries the dead doe to camp. “Him heap big little man.” Stacy knows how to “skin the cat.” The antelope dressed by the Indian guide. Fresh meat in plenty now. Chapter XIV–Stacy Bumps the Bumps 152 The difficulty of leading a mule. Chunky and the animal go over the brink. Tin cans rattle down the mountain side. The fat boy hung up by one foot. Chapter XV–The Story in the Dead Fire 162 “White boy see almost like Indian.” Campers had left in a hurry. Stacy discovers something. Eating ice cream with a pickle fork. Surrounded by mysteries in the great mountains. Chapter XVI–A Sign from the Mountain Top 167 “Him white man smoke.” The wonders of mountain signaling. Friends or enemies? Overwhelmed by an avalanche of ice. A roar and an even more terrifying silence. Chapter XVII–An Unexpected Meeting 174 “Innua him mad.” Heap big ice nearly wipes out the Pony Rider Boys’ camp. Tad makes a morning excursion and meets an unpleasant surprise. Chapter XVIII–An Unfriendly Reception 178 Tad boldly faces his accusers. Threats from the prospectors. A man on Butler’s trail. Tad takes a pot shot and gets immediate results. “Stop that shooting, you fool!” The fat boy draws a bead. Chapter XIX–The Professor in a Rage 189 “It’s a lie!” thunders Professor Zepplin. Ordered out of the hills on penalty of being shot. “If you are looking for trouble you may have all you want!” A threat to punch the prospector’s nose. Chapter XX–Tad Discovers Something 198 Pony Rider Boys off for bear. The fat boy frightened by a totem pole. In a place of many mysteries. Tad makes a great find. A discovery that led to sensational results. Chapter XXI–Conclusion 203 Rifle shots fired into the Pony Rider Boys’ camp. Miners in a frenzy of joy. Butler makes a new find. Their boundary markings found destroyed. Tad starts on a desperate ride. His claim must be filed ahead of that of the enemy at whatever cost. A race through ice-clogged waters. A fight to the finish before the clerk’s desk. A triumph for the Gold Diggers of Taku Pass. The end of the long, long trail. THE PONY RIDER BOYS IN ALASKA 11 CHAPTER I THROUGH ENCHANTING WATERS “Captain, who are the four silent men leaning over the rail on the other side of the boat?” asked Tad Butler. “I have been wondering about them almost ever since we left Vancouver. They don’t seem to speak to a person, and seldom to each other, though somehow they appear to be traveling in company. They act as if they were afraid someone would recognize them. I am sure they aren’t bad characters.” Captain Petersen, commander of the steamer “Corsair,” which for some days had been plowing its way through the ever-changing northern waters, stroked his grizzled beard reflectively. “Bad characters, eh?” he twinkled. “Well, no, I shouldn’t say as they were. They’re fair-weather lads. I’ll vouch for them if necessary, and I guess I’m about the only person on board that knows who they are.” Tad waited expectantly until the skipper came to the point of the story he was telling. “They are the Gold Diggers of Taku Pass, lad.” “The Gold Diggers of Taku Pass?” repeated Tad Butler. “I don’t think I ever heard that name before. Where is this pass, sir?” The skipper shook his head. “No one knows,” he said. “That is strange,” wondered Butler. “Does no one know where they dig for gold?” “No. They don’t even know themselves,” was the puzzling reply. Tad fixed the weather-beaten face of the skipper with a questioning gaze. “I don’t think I understand, sir.” “I’ll tell you what I know about it some other time, lad. I haven’t the time to spin the yarn now. It’s a long one. I’ve been sailing up and down these waters, fair weather and foul, for a good many years, and I’ve seen a fair cargo of strange things in my time, but this Digger outfit is the most peculiar one I ever came across. They are a living example of what the lure of gold means when it gets into a man’s system. Gold is all right. I wish I had more of it; but, my boy, don’t ever let the love of it get to the windward of you if you hope to enjoy peace of mind afterwards,” concluded the skipper with emphasis. “What’s that he says about gold?” interjected Stacy Brown, more commonly known to his companions as Chunky, the fat boy. Stacy, with Ned Rector and Walter Perkins, had been lounging against the starboard rail of the “Corsair,” observing Tad and the Captain as they talked. A few paces forward sat Professor Zepplin, their traveling companion, wholly absorbed in a scientific discussion with an engineer who was on his way to an Alaskan mine, of which the latter was to assume control. Many other passengers were strolling about the decks of the “Corsair.” There were seasoned miners with bearded faces; sharp-eyed, sharp-featured men with shifty eyes; pale-faced prospectors on their way to the land of promise, in quest of the yellow metal; capitalists going to Alaska to look into this or that claim with a view to investment; and, more in evidence than all the rest, a large list of tourists bound up the coast on a merry holiday. The former, in most instances, were quiet, reserved men, the latter talkative and boisterous. “The Captain was speaking of the lure that gold holds for the human race,” replied Tad Butler in answer to Stacy Brown’s question. “I guess the Captain is right, too.” “Be warned in time, Chunky,” added Rector. “I’ve never seen enough gold to become lured by it,” retorted the fat boy. “I should like to see enough to excite me just once. I shouldn’t mind being lured that way. Would you, Walt?” Walter Perkins shook his head and smiled. “I fear you will have to shake yourself–get over your natural laziness–before you can hope to,” chuckled Ned. “I doubt if you would know a lure if you met one on Main Street in Chillicothe.” “Try me and see,” grinned Stacy. “There must be a lot of gold up here, judging from what I have read, and from the number of persons going after it,” added Tad, with a sweeping gesture that included the deckload of miners and prospectors. “But the hardships and the heart-breakings must be terrible. I have read a lot about the terrors that men have gone through in this country, especially in the awful winters they have in Alaska.” “I shouldn’t mind them if I had a sledge and a pack of dogs to tote me around, the way they do up here,” declared Chunky. “That would be great fun,” agreed young Perkins. “You wouldn’t have far to fall if you got bucked off from that kind of broncho, would you, Stacy?” “Not unless you fell off a mountain,” answered Ned, glancing at the distant towering cliffs of the coast range. “I was asking the Captain about those four men yonder,” said Tad. “Oh, the fellows who don’t speak to anyone?” nodded Rector. “Yes.” “Who are they? I have wondered about them.” “I don’t know their names, but the skipper tells me they are known as the Gold Diggers of Taku Pass,” replied Butler. “The queer part of it is, he says, that no one, so far as he is aware, knows even that there is such a place as Taku Pass. They don’t know themselves,” added Tad with a smile. “That’s strange,” wondered Rector. “Crazy?” “No, I think not. They are prospecting for an unknown claim,” replied Tad. “I–I don’t know anything about that,” spoke up Stacy Brown. “But I know who those fellows are.” 12 13 14 15 “You do?” exclaimed the boys in chorus. “Yes. I asked them. That’s the way to find out what you want to know, isn’t it?” chuckled Stacy. “Who are they?” asked Butler laughingly. “The minery-looking fellow is Sam Dawson. The one beside him is Curtis Darwood. The tall, slim chap nearest to us is Dill Bruce. They call him the Pickle for short.” “He looks sour enough to be one,” laughed Walter. “The other chap, the little one, is Curley Tinker. And there you have the whole outfit. I’ll introduce you to them if you like,” volunteered Chunky. “No, thank you. I already have tried to talk with the men, but they don’t seem inclined to open their mouths,” replied Butler. “It strikes me that you have made more progress that anyone else on this boat, so far as the four gold diggers are concerned,” added Rector, addressing Chunky. “Yes, I am convinced that Chunky is rather forward,” agreed Tad. “Oh, no one can resist me,” averred the fat boy. “Anything else you want to know, Tad?” “Yes, a great deal. But here is the Captain. He will tell me.” Captain Petersen had taken a fancy to the boys almost from the first. He had learned who they were early on that voyage, and in the meantime they had become very well acquainted with the commander of the “Corsair.” He had taken pains to explain to the lads many things about the country past which they were sailing–things that otherwise they would not have known, and the voyage was proving very interesting to them, as well as to Professor Zepplin himself. “Come below now and I’ll tell you the story,” invited Captain Petersen, starting to descend the after companionway. “All of you come along. That will save your asking questions later on,” he smiled. “You see, he invited you on my account,” chuckled Stacy Brown, tapping his breast with the tips of his fingers. The lads filed down the companionway behind the Captain, and when they had finally settled themselves in the skipper’s cabin and he had lighted his pipe, he began to speak. “I always come below and put my feet on the table after we pass the Shoal of Seals,” he explained. “That is the time I take my ‘watch below,’ as we call it, when we come down for a rest or a sleep. But you are eager to hear the story. Very good. Here goes. A good many years ago an expedition came up to this part of the world on an exploring mission. In that party was a Dr. Darwood from some place in the East. I don’t believe I ever heard the name of the place, and if I knew the state I have forgotten it. Well, to make a long story short, the party was ambushed by the Kak- wan-tan Indians. Every man of the party was captured and all were put to death, with the exception of Dr. Darwood. Somehow, the Indians had learned that he was a big medicine man, so they made the Doctor captive and took him over the mountains many miles from there. They probably killed the others so as to make sure of the Doctor.” “What did they want with a medicine man?” interjected the fat boy. “They wanted him professionally. Their chief was a very sick man. I guess the old gentleman was about ready to die. At least he thought so. The chief bore the name of Chief Anna-Hoots. Nice name, eh? No wonder he got sick.” “He must have belonged to the owl family,” observed Chunky. Tad rebuked the fat boy with a look. The Captain regarded Stacy quizzically, then proceeded with his story. “Their own medicine man had been killed by a bear. You see his medicine wasn’t calculated to head off bears. The chief, therefore, was in a bad way. Dr. Darwood was commanded to make the chief well, and, so the story goes, after examining Hoots, he at once saw what was the trouble with the old man. He set to work over the savage, not so much from a professional interest as that he knew very well his life would be forfeited did he not do something for the patient. It is a safe guess that the Doctor never had worked more heroically over a patient. Well, he saved the chief–had him on his feet and hopping around as lively as a jack-rabbit in less than twenty-four hours. There was great rejoicing among Anna’s people, and Darwood was feasted and made much of. He was almost as big a man as Old Hoots himself. Nothing was too good for him in that camp.” “Why didn’t he poison the whole tribe while he had the chance?” questioned Rector. “Perhaps it wasn’t professional,” smiled the Captain in reply. “But Chief Anna-Hoots–precious old rascal that he was–was so grateful that he made the Doctor chief medicine man over all the tribes and a tribal chief of one of the subordinate tribes. And now we are coming to the point of our story. Old Hoots, later on, let the Doctor into a great secret. Having driven the evil spirits out of Anna and set him on his feet almost as good as new, the patient evidently was of the opinion that the medicine man was entitled to something more than the ordinary fee for such a service. He took the Doctor to a place where a roaring glacial stream of icy water was tearing down through a narrow gash in the mountains on its way to the sea, and there he showed the doctor-chief gold in great quantities, so the story runs, the pass being guarded by the Bear Totem. It is not certain whether the vein from which this gold had been washed was then known. I think Darwood must have found it later on and located a claim. He at least took from the mouth of the pass enough gold to make him a fairly rich man. This he hid away, awaiting a favorable opportunity to get away with it. Such opportunity presented itself while his tribe was away on a hunt in the fall for meat for the winter, and made his escape. After some months of terrible hardships he succeeded in reaching civilization, fairly staggering under the weight of the gold he had brought away. He had the gold-madness badly, you see.” “He was plucky,” muttered Butler. “Yes. It was Darwood’s intention to return, at the head of a well-armed party, properly equipped, and work the pay dirt to its limit. But he died before he could do so. The hardships of that journey, loaded down with dust and nuggets, led to his ultimate death. You see what avarice will do to a fellow. It gets to windward of him every time.” “I’d be willing to stagger under all I could carry and take my chances on the future,” observed Chunky reflectively. “So would we all,” nodded the skipper. “That’s the worst of us, our greed. I am glad I am at sea, where I can’t dig. 16 17 18 19 20 21 Nothing was done in the matter of locating and working the claim for some years after the Doctor’s death. Then a grandson, Curtis Darwood, who is now aboard this boat, found a paper or map or something of the sort, on which was a description of the Doctor’s find. It couldn’t have been very definite or they wouldn’t have been so long in locating the place. Of course, the younger man was fired with the desire to find this wonderful mine. The lure had him fast and hard. He came up here alone the first time and prospected all summer, but failed, and late that fall he went back home. When he returned the three other men, who are his companions now, were with him. They have been together ever since in their prospecting work. Dawson is a pioneer prospector who knows the game thoroughly. The others, who have been up here three years, might now be placed in the same class, though Dawson is the real miner. One can’t help but admire their pluck and persistence, but I shouldn’t want to be caught interfering with them. When a fellow gets the gold madness he is a dangerous customer to annoy.” “Have they found the gold?” asked Walter Perkins. Captain Petersen shook his head. “I think not. If they have, only they know it. They take no one into their confidence. They went home for the winter last fall, and what amazes me further is that they are getting up here so late this spring. Here it is June. They should have been on the job six weeks ago, and in order to do so they ought to have wintered in the hills. To me that means something. It will be a wonder if this unusual move on their part doesn’t attract attention. You may believe they are watched. There are, no doubt, those who are watching the Diggers, and who do not miss any of their movements.” The skipper hesitated, then brought a big fist down on his cabin table with a bang that set the glassware jingling. “By George, I begin to see a light!” he roared. “What do you mean?” cried Chunky. “What is it, sir?” chorused Tad and Ned in one voice. “That accounts for Red Whiskers. That accounts for his presence on–” The skipper checked himself suddenly. “But no matter. It isn’t for me to say.” He lapsed into thoughtful silence. “Well, what do you think of the story?” he asked a few moments later. “It is all very remarkable,” answered Butler. “Where are they going–their destination, I mean?” “You never can tell. They have explored pretty much all of the country within a few hundred miles of here, and it wouldn’t surprise me at all if they had stumbled over the right place dozens of times and didn’t know it. But there is one significant fact. They have brought up a lot of equipment this time. It looks as if they thought they had the place pretty well located. It certainly does look that way. There’s another thing I forgot to tell you. This place, this pass where the gold is supposed to lie, is the abode of a great and angry spirit.” “A really, truly spirit?” questioned Walter wonderingly. “I can’t say about the really-truly business,” replied Captain Petersen, with a grin. “I am telling you the story as I have heard it. Had Old Hoots’ tribe known that the Doctor went in there and dug out gold which he salted away they would have put him to death. It’s a sacred place. It was then, and I’ll wager it is now. You may believe that the superstition has been handed down.” “But the Indians up here now are not at all savage, are they?” asked Butler. “Perhaps not where the white man has taken possession in force. But you get into the far interior–there is a great deal of Alaska that the white man knows very little about yet–and you will find them savage enough, provided they think they have you in a pocket, and especially so if you interfere with any of their religious customs or beliefs. In these respects they are simply human.” “I should call them inhuman,” observed the fat boy. “I don’t blame them,” nodded Tad. “Now, that is the story of the Gold Diggers, so far as I know it,” continued the Captain. “As I have already said, not many persons up here do know it. A veil of mystery surrounds the four silent men. They make no other friends, confide in no one, and live in a little world all their own. The story, as I have repeated it to you, was told to me by a man from their part of the country who came up here to spend the summer last season. That is how I came to know the details. It is possible, though not probable, that you might get them to tell you something about the country.” “I’ll make them talk,” answered Stacy pompously. “What is their destination?” asked Butler quickly. “Skagway. However, that undoubtedly is a blind. They may be going on farther from that point, or they may be intending to work back along the coast after they leave the ship, then strike into the hills at some remote point. I can’t say as to that, of course. They will disappear. You may depend upon that, and nothing may be heard of them again for a year.” “What do they do for provisions?” questioned Rector. “The same as you will have to do if you penetrate far into the interior. They hunt and fish, saving their canned supplies for the winter, for the winter months are long and drear up in this far northern country.” “When does winter set in?” asked Ned. “Very early. It seems to be most always winter up here.” “Thank you very much,” said Tad. “This has been most interesting. I should like to ask them something about the country where we are going. Of course I shouldn’t presume to question them about their own affairs. That would be none of my business.” “Where are you going?” “We had planned to strike north from Yakutat.” “You will find rough country that way. I should say you would have tough traveling all the way. If you can get the Gold Diggers to open up, they will undoubtedly be able to give you some useful information that would enable you to 22 23 24 25 26 lay your course to the best advantage. But I think I know the Diggers. You may not be able to get a civil word out of them.” “They’ll talk to me,” answered the fat boy confidently. “Please don’t permit yourself to be overcome,” warned Rector. “Remember your most excellent opinion of yourself has been the cause of some mighty falls already.” “Well, I fell in soft spots anyhow,” retorted Stacy. “Ordinarily on your head, I believe,” answered Ned quickly. Again thanking the Captain for his kindness, the lads returned to the deck. Tad leaned against the rail thinking over the story related by the skipper. The romance of the quest of the Diggers appealed to Butler’s adventure-loving nature. He declared to himself that he would draw them into conversation and satisfy his further curiosity. Looking them over in the light of what he had heard, Tad saw that the four were determined-looking men, were men who would do and dare, no matter how great the obstacles or the perils. He could not but feel a keen admiration for them. They were real men, even if they were surly and reticent. “Tad, how would you like to belong to that party of prospectors?” asked Ned, nodding toward the four. “I can’t imagine anything more exciting. I wish we might. I wonder if they are going our way?” “Why don’t you ask them?” “I intend to,” answered Tad, rousing himself and starting towards the prospectors who were lounging apart from the other passengers on the deck of the steamer. “Watch him get turned down,” grinned Stacy. “I shall have to break the ice for him. He never will be able to do it for himself.” “Better wait until you are asked,” advised Ned Rector. As Stacy had said, Tad did not succeed in getting into conversation with the Diggers that day. Early on the following morning the boys were on deck, being unwilling to miss a single moment of the scenery. The “Corsair” was swinging majestically into Queen Charlotte Sound, a splendid sweep of purple water, where great waves from the Pacific rolled in, sending the steamer plunging desperately. There was a scurry on the part of many of the early risers to get below decks, for the change from the quiet waters through which the boat had been sailing to this tumultuous sea was more than most of them were able to stand. Stacy Brown was already on his back in the shadow of a life boat, groaning miserably. Walter Perkins’ face was pale, but he held himself together by a strong effort of will, but Tad Butler and Ned Rector appeared not in the least affected by the roll of the steamer. Both were lost in admiration of the scene that was unfolding before them. “They roll along with the lightness of thistledown across a green field,” declared Tad enthusiastically, speaking to himself. “It is simply glorious.” He heard someone come to the rail at his side, but the lad was too fully absorbed to look around. “That wasn’t bad for a sentiment, young fellow,” said a voice at his elbow. “If you stay up in this country long enough, however, you will get all the sentiment frozen out of you. I know, for I’ve been all through it. I’m lucky that my bones aren’t up yonder somewhere.” “Yes, sir,” answered Butler. Glancing around he found himself gazing into the face of Curtis Darwood. 27 28 CHAPTER II THE BOYS SCENT A PLOT “Oh, how do you do, sir. Did I say anything?” “Well, there’s a chance for a difference of opinion as to that,” smiled the miner. “I have been enjoying the scenery, sir. Isn’t it beautiful?” “You should see it at sunrise,” answered Darwood. “These mists are well worth coming all the way up here to gaze upon. In the morning they take on all the delicate tints of the primrose. Then at sunset of course the colors grow warmer–amber, orange, gold–almost everything that could be imagined in the way of wonderful colorings. All that sort of thing, you know. I never saw anything like it in any part of the world, and I’ve seen some,” added the Gold Digger reflectively. “I should like to see it at sunset,” answered Tad. “Is it ever like this in the interior, sir?” “Interior of what?” “Of the country? Up there in the mountains?” Darwood gave the boy a quick glance of inquiry. There was suspicion in his eyes. “In the far country?” added Butler. “I can’t say as to that; I can’t say that I know,” replied the prospector shortly. “What we wanted to ask you about was the Yakutat trail from the coast up?” interjected Ned. “You see, we are going that way and we want to get all the information we can about the trails and the country itself.” Tad gave his companion a warning look, but Ned persisted in pressing his questioning. The miner’s hands dropped from the rail. “I reckon you would better ask someone else. I can’t tell you anything about the trail,” replied Darwood, turning on his heel and striding away. “There, you’ve done it now,” complained Butler ruefully. “Of course you had to break in and spoil it all. Now we shan’t get another opportunity. Mr. Darwood is suspicious of us, and he won’t talk with us again. It’s too bad.” “Well, you wanted to know. What’s the use in beating about the bush when you want to know a thing. I believe in asking for what you want,” protested Ned. “So do I, but it isn’t always best to go at it bald-headed. However, never mind, Ned. I am now convinced that there would be little use in asking Mr. Darwood questions in any circumstances. The instant you begin to talk Alaska with that man he is going to shy off. He fears he might be trapped into an admission, or else he thinks we are trying to pump him for some other reason. You may be sure that others have tried to draw him out, believing they might obtain information that he is supposed to possess.” “They are a queer lot,” muttered Ned. “Didn’t the Captain say no one knew anything about this gold pass, or whatever you call it?” “Taku Pass? Yes. That is, he said few persons knew of it, but you may be sure that the purpose of these men up here is known. There are plenty of gentlemen waiting to beat those four into the land of golden promise. I don’t blame the Diggers for having their suspicions of everyone about them. I wish I could convince them that we aren’t that sort of people. I like that fellow. I’d like to help him, too,” mused Tad. “I shouldn’t. However, I’m sorry I put my foot in it,” nodded Ned. “You needn’t be. See! We are running out of the swell now.” The steamer, soon coming under the lee of the islands, was steaming into Fitzhugh Sound, where dangerous shoals menace the navigators of these enchanting waters. Captain Petersen was now occupying the little bridge just forward of the pilot house. His face was grim and set. The good fellow was no longer present–it was now the master, bent upon attending to his duties. The sound is a slender waterway, extending directly northward fully thirty miles, more entrancing, it seemed to the boys, than any other water over which they had sailed. The Pony Rider Boys were having a glorious passage into the far north where they were going in search of new adventure. They were bound for the wildest and most remote section of Uncle Sam’s domain, where they hoped to spend the summer months. Now that the waters had become more quiet, Stacy Brown slowly dragged himself from the shadow of the life-boat and stood gripping the gunwale. After getting his head leveled somewhat he walked unsteadily to his companions who were leaning on the steamer’s rail regarding him with smiling faces. “Sick?” questioned Tad. “No; merely ailing,” replied the fat boy. “I wouldn’t be a landlubber,” jeered Rector. “You would, if you were in my place,” muttered Stacy. On through a panorama of changing scenes and colors sailed the “Corsair.” In Finlayson Channel, some distance farther on, the forest that lined the shores was a solid mountain of green on each side, the trees growing down to the water. Here the reflections were so brilliant that the dividing line between shore and water was difficult for the untrained eye to make out. The boys seemed to be gazing upon an optical illusion. From the water’s edge the mountains rose sheer to a great height, their distant peaks capped with snow glistening in the morning sunlight, while glacial streams flashed over the open spaces on the mountain sides. “Is there no end to it?” wondered Tad Butler, gazing at the scenery until his eyes ached. “It is all very wonderful,” agreed Professor Zepplin. “I call it tiresome,” declared the fat boy wearily. “I prefer something exciting.” Ned suggested that he jump overboard. Stacy replied that he would were it not that he didn’t want to put his 29 30 31 32 33 companions to the trouble of rescuing him. The entrancing scenery continued at intervals until the evening of the second day after their unsuccessful attempt to draw out Curtis Darwood. They were now passing through Frederick Sound, bordered by spire-shaped glaciers that towered in the sky, pale and chaste, more than two thousand feet above the sound. Darkness fell, the sky being overcast, and the air chill, giving the passengers the shivers and sending them to their cabins below. Tad Butler and Ned Rector had clambered to the top of the deck-house and settled themselves between the two smokestacks. It was a nice warm berth and they appreciated it. They seemed far away from human habitation there. “You said you had something to tell me this evening,” Ned reminded his companion, after a few moments of contented silence. “Yes. It was about last night. You remember that remark of the skipper’s the other day, don’t you?” “About what?” “What he said about ‘Red Whiskers’?” “Yes.” “I have the gentleman located, Ned. I am reasonably certain that I have. Of course it’s none of my business, but I have been curious ever since the Captain said that. My man has red whiskers, regular combustible whiskers,” added the freckle-faced boy with a grin. “There are several men on board this boat who wear red upholstery on their chins,” averred Rector. “I know that, but this one is the fellow, all right,” declared Tad in a confident tone. “You know something!” exclaimed Ned. “I do. Don’t speak so loudly. Someone might hear. I heard someone passing along the deck just below us a moment ago.” “No one down there could distinguish what we were saying,” answered Ned, as the two drew back farther between the steel bases of the two funnels. “Well?” urged Ned. “The man referred to by Captain Petersen is Sandy Ketcham, the tall, lank fellow, with the squinty eyes and the stoop shoulders. He has a trick of peering up from under his eyelids when he looks at you.” “Oh! I know the one you mean, and I don’t like his looks. How did you know?” “Since the Captain made that remark about ‘Red Whiskers’ I have been taking an interest in every man on the boat who wore red whiskers,” said Tad. “I tried to decide, in my own mind, which of them was the right one.” “So did I,” admitted Ned. “But I got all mixed up. If you succeeded in picking out the right one you are mighty sharp. I wish I were as keen as you.” “Keen? Not a bit of it! It was a pure accident that I found out. I just blundered on the truth last night. The man I had picked out wasn’t the fellow at all. I had the wrong man, so you see I am not so smart as you thought. You remember you left Stacy and myself sitting on a bale of freight at the rear end of the boat when you went down late last evening?” “Yes. Chunky was half asleep.” “Exactly. Well, I shook him up a few moments later and he went below grumbling because I wouldn’t let him sleep when he was so comfortable. He was liable to catch cold in the damp air. Then I went to sleep myself,” admitted Butler. “I’m not much of an adviser, am I?” “Go on,” urged Rector. “Something awakened me. Two men were talking nearby. I couldn’t see them, but could hear every word they said. One of the two I recognized by his voice. The other I was unable to place. I got him placed right to-day though, when I heard him talking on deck. They are a precious pair of rascals, Ned. Perhaps it is considered fair enough up here to do those things, but I just can’t hold myself when I see crookedness going on.” “You haven’t said what it was about yet,” reminded Ned. “They were plotting against Darwood.” “You don’t say?” “Yes, they were.” “How?” “I am not going to tell you now. The question is, ought I to tell Mr. Darwood? Would it be right to carry tales, even in a case like this?” “Not knowing what the case is I can’t very well advise you,” answered Ned Rector. “What did they say?” “I’d rather not say a word about that until I have decided what to do.” “You’re a queer chap, Tad. You arouse my curiosity; then you won’t satisfy it.” “You shall know all about it in good time. Hark! Was that you who kicked the collar of the stack?” “No. I didn’t hear anything. Who was the other man?” “His name is Ainsworth. He is a prospector, too. They are together, he and the man Sandy. There are some others in the plot, as I learned from the conversation, but I hardly think they are on board. I take it that the others are to meet this party at Skagway, which proves to me that the plans of our friends, the four Gold Diggers, were learned by the plotters some time before the former set sail for the north country. Oh, it is a fine game of grab they are planning! But I believe that, if Mr. Darwood be warned in time, he will be perfectly able to take care of himself. I am quite sure I shouldn’t care to be the other fellow.” “I don’t know why we should get so excited over it,” grumbled Ned. “Darwood and his companions are no friends of ours. I should say that quite the opposite is the case.” “But they are real men, just the same,” objected Tad. “I don’t care whether they are friendly to us or not. Come on; 34 35 36 37 38 let’s get down.” Grasping awning spars the two lads swung down to the promenade of the upper deck. After they had cleared the deck-house a man dropped to the deck from the deck-house, on the opposite side. After a few moments’ stroll, during which the boys continued their conversation, they went below. On reaching his cabin, Butler discovered that he had lost his pocket knife. Thinking that it had slipped from his pocket while the two were lounging on the deck-house, Tad went back to look for it. He was the only person in sight on deck. That part of the deck was unlighted, save as a faint glow shone up through the engine room grating. The freckle-faced boy looked carefully about on top of the deck-house for several minutes, in search of his lost knife, lighting match after match to aid him in his quest. He failed to find it. With a grunt of disappointment he again swung himself to the deck. The instant his feet touched the deck, Tad Butler met with a violent surprise. He was suddenly grabbed from behind. A powerful arm gripped him like a vise, pinioning his own right arm to his side, while a big hand was clapped over his mouth, forcing the lad’s head violently backwards with a jolt which for the moment he thought had dislocated his neck. Tad struggled and fought with all his might, but to little purpose. The boy realized that he was in the hands of a man who was a giant for strength and who was slowly but surely forcing him toward the steamer’s rail. The Pony Rider Boy felt a bushy beard over his shoulder and against his neck. Now he was against the rail, facing out over the water. Butler knew that, despite his struggles, he was going to be dropped over the side. Then a sudden idea came to him. Tad shot up his free left hand, fastening his fingers in the long beard of the man behind him. He heard a smothered exclamation over his shoulder, and for the instant the hand over his mouth was withdrawn. “Help!” shouted Tad Butler. Then a blow on the head sent him limply to the deck. 39 CHAPTER III IN DESPERATE STRAITS Tad’s assailant hastily gathered the boy up. The man staggered slightly, as, after a hurried glance up and down the deck, he stepped toward the rail with his burden. Just then footsteps were heard. “Hey! What are you doing there?” bellowed a voice. A man came running from somewhere in the after part of the ship. Butler’s assailant dropped his burden, dodged into a passageway in the deck-house, closing the door behind him and disappearing before the newcomer reached the door and threw it open. Then the rescuer turned to the unconscious Tad Butler. “Well, here’s trouble!” he muttered. Taking up Tad’s limp form he carried it to where the light from the grating shone up. “It’s that freckle-faced kid. Somebody gave him a tough wallop,” growled the man. Tad’s rescuer was Sam Dawson, one of the Gold Diggers. “I reckon I’ll fetch him around if his neck isn’t broken.” Laying the lad down on the deck where he would have plenty of air, the Digger worked over the Pony Rider Boy for fully five minutes before Tad returned to consciousness. Butler was too dazed to realize what had occurred. “I’ll take you below now, my lad,” said Dawson. “No, no. Not yet,” protested Tad. “Wait. I want to think.” “Who was the fellow who hit you?” demanded Dawson. “I–I don’t know,” stammered Tad. “What did he do it for?” “I–I don’t know. I–” “You aren’t very strong on information, are you?” grinned the prospector. “I want–want to see Mr. Darwood.” “You can see him to-morrow. You’d better get into your bunk right smart. I’ll help you down.” “Thank you. I’ll go alone–in a minute,” said Butler, pulling himself up by the rail to which he clung unsteadily. “I don’t want anyone to know. I’ll tell Mr. Darwood what I have to say.” “Have it your own way. I’m going to follow along behind, to see that you get down all right,” answered the man. “Thank you. I guess you saved me from getting a wetting,” said the boy, extending an impulsive hand. “Now I’ll go to my cabin. Please don’t say anything about this. Good-night.” Tad’s progress below was slow and unsteady. Dawson watched him until the door of the cabin had closed behind the Pony Rider Boy. “That’s a raw deal,” muttered the miner. “I’d like to punch the head of the fellow who would do that to a kid!” Butler got into his bunk without awakening his companions. His head ached terribly, and it was a long time before he fell asleep. The next morning his head felt twice its ordinary size. The boys joked him on his appearance, but Tad merely smiled, refusing to say what had been the matter with him. Ned was suspicious. He knew that Butler had been engaged in a scuffle, but what it was he was unable to imagine. Tad had been strolling about the decks all the morning, as if in search of someone. He found the man he was seeking late in the forenoon. The man was sitting on a keg of nails on the after part of the upper deck, his back to Tad. “Good morning, Mr. Ketcham,” greeted the Pony Rider Boy. The red-whiskered man whirled, letting the hand that had been caressing his beard fall limply to his side. “Beard hurt you?” questioned Tad sweetly. “None of yer business!” was the surly reply. “Mr. Ketcham, I know you and I know your game,” began Butler in a low, even tone. “I know, too, that you are the man who assaulted me and tried to put me overboard.” “I don’t know what ye’re talking about,” growled Sandy. “Oh, yes you do–and so do I! I’ve a handful of whiskers which match perfectly those you are wearing. Shall I pull some more for comparison with those I already have?” questioned the boy aggravatingly. Ketcham half rose, then settled back again, as if fearing to trust himself. “You may be thankful that you didn’t do it. My companions would have taken care of you, had anything happened to me,” Tad went on composedly. “I want to say, now, that it would be good judgment on your part not to try any more strong-arm tactics on me or on my companions. If you do, you will instantly find yourself in more kinds of trouble than you have ever before experienced. Now that we know you, we shall be able to take care of you as you deserve. I reckon you know what that means, Red Whiskers.” “Get out of here, before I do something to you!” roared Sandy. “Oh, no you won’t! You don’t dare raise your hand. I could turn you over to the Captain and have you placed in irons till we get ashore. I have proof enough to send you to a jail, if they have such places up here. But I’m not going to do that. I am going to be fair with you and tell you exactly what I propose. I am going to tell Curtis Darwood about you. No, I shan’t tell him who it is. I will tell him that someone is following and watching him–you and Ainsworth. He will find you out, never fear. I will give you one chance. Get off at the next stop, and I will tell him after we leave there. Take your choice. Take your friend with you. I don’t want to be responsible for any shooting on this boat. What do you say, Mr. Sandy?” The fellow’s fingers opened and closed nervously. He attempted to speak but failed three times. Finally he blurted out his answer: “Will you git out of here? I’ll lose myself in a minit; then I won’t answer for what I do.” “Never mind,” answered Tad laughingly. “I can take care of myself. Your kind never did scare me worth a cent.” Sandy sprang up. He hesitated for a few tense seconds, then strode forward with Butler’s soft chuckle in his ears. 40 41 42 43 44