THE LOST MAP
Slinging over their backs the packages of food which had been given them, the three Indians started away along the ridge of the first low range of mountains, to join their tribe. The gold-seekers thought they had seen the last of them, but they did not know what the future had in store for them, nor under what circumstances they were again to see the treacherous Alaskans.
"Now we've got to rely a good bit on ourselves," said Mr. Baxter, when Zank and his two companions were out of sight. "Each one of us will have to do more work, but I think we will be better off. We are getting near to where Stults is supposed to have hidden the gold, and the fewer natives who know about it the better it will be."
He had spoken before Holfax, and Fred's face must have shown the wonder he felt, for Jerry's father remarked:
"Oh, Holfax knows what we are after. In fact we shall have to depend on him, in a measure, for he knows this country and the locality where we are going better than I do. I have told him about the map and about the treasure."
"Me help to find it," replied the Indian with a grin. "But not good too many know. Some Indians bad. Me try be good."
"Yes, you do try, and I think we can trust you," added Mr. Baxter. "Now then, we must make camp. I think we had all better sleep in the tent," for it was not uncommon for white men and their negro, or Indian, helpers to occupy the same shelter in that cold country. The more persons in a tent the warmer it would be.
But the Indian had his own ideas about this. He did not like to change his way of life, and he had been so long used to burrowing under the snow, in a warm fur robe, that he preferred that method still. So he declined the shelter of the tent.
It was not as easy work as Mr. Baxter had thought it would be, to resume the journey the next day. The three dog teams, that were without drivers, seemed to know it, and got all tangled up in the harness, fighting among themselves, so it was some time before they could be separated, and fastened by long thongs to the sled in charge of Holfax. On this Mr. Baxter rode, in order to converse with the guide as to the best road to take.
The two boys, and Johnson, were entrusted with the long whips the Indians had formerly used. They tried to handle them as had the natives, in guiding the teams, but they did not have much success.
However, Holfax kept a watchful eye over the wolfish canines, and whenever one of the brutes was inclined to turn tail, and attempted to haul the sled backwards, the angry voice of the Alaskan would, with a sharp reminder from the whip, send the rebel back in line with its fellows.
On and on they went, making slow progress because the trail was very poor. The second day after dismissing the three Indians they were enveloped in a blinding snowstorm, and they had to halt and make camp. It was terribly cold, so cold that a hot cup of tea would have a skim of ice over it in a minute after it was poured out. It seemed as if their very bones were frozen.
But the next day the storm ceased, and they toiled on and on, the hope of the hidden gold luring them. Once a sled overturned, and the load was spilled off, necessitating an hour's halt.
Again, one of the sled runners broke, going around a dangerous curve, and only the quickness of Fred, who leaped off and held on to the load by the thongs binding it, prevented it from toppling over into a deep ravine.
It took some time to mend the sled runner, but Holfax was equal to the emergency, and, after a day's halt, they were able to proceed. But their troubles were not at an end. The dogs grew worse and worse, and were continually fighting among themselves. They did it so often that the party could only go a mile or two, before Holfax would have to stop, and run back to separate some of the savage animals, that seemed to become more and more like wolves the farther north they went.
At last the Indian solved the problem by changing all the dogs about. With new team-mates, the animals seemed to get along better.
One afternoon, just as they were about to go into camp, Johnson, who was riding on the sled containing most of the provisions, got off, intending to unharness his dogs, and tie them. No sooner was he off the sled than the beasts ran away with it.
"Stop them! Catch them!" cried Mr. Baxter. "If they run away with that load we'll starve."
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.