Dick Kent with the Eskimos

In five minutes they dragged their young Indian friend free of the lodged snow. (Page 169)
By MILTON RICHARDS
AUTHOR OF “Dick Kent with the Mounted Police” “Dick Kent in the Far North” “Dick Kent, Fur Trader” “Dick Kent and the Malemute Mail”
THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY Akron, Ohio New York
Copyright MCMXXVII THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY Made in the United States of America
Muffled from head to foot in hooded caribou shirts and bearskin trousers, five persons slowly plodded across a vast tundra within the Arctic Circle. Many days, by land and by boat from the Canadian coast, had brought them to a point where they must go on with dogs only. And now as they drove twelve big huskies to a long sledge filled with supplies, all armed with rifles and two with revolvers, the fur-clad figures presented a grim appearance upon the snowy bosom of that frozen wasteland.
A hood rimmed with blue fox fur almost completely hid the face of the athletic figure breaking through the snow at the head of the dog team. But one who knew him would have had little trouble in identifying that graceful, swinging step as belonging to Dick Kent. He it was—again on the adventure trail, his dark, clear eyes shining and eager behind the smoked glasses he wore to protect his sight from the glare of the snow-reflected sun, which, though it was midday, hung low on the southern horizon, a ball of baleful red.
Bringing up the rear were Sandy McClaren, Dick’s chum, and the Canadian Indian boy, Toma, an inseparable of the two American lads since they first had entered the north on a visit with Sandy’s Uncle Walter, a Hudson’s Bay Company factor. The remaining two of the travelers were big men, alert and vigorous, whose very appearance showed that they represented the authority of law and justice. They were officers of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police, and under their furs reposed important orders bearing the King’s seal.
“Hey, Dick!” Sandy McClaren’s shout sounded startlingly loud and high in the icy air.