“Something queer!” he exclaimed. “Wonder if the Ruby’s stove too. Let’s go.”
The next moment the powerful Newfoundlands were tearing down the slope with the lighter, cream-colored Eskimo dogs in the rear, and with the two stalwart policemen riding the runners and “yip-yiing” at the teams. Like the wind the sleds raced down the steep hillside, and the two boys bent their heads as the cold wind whistled across their faces.
Out on to the flat they dashed, and leaping off, the two officers brought their teams to a sudden halt within a dozen yards of the first tent.
“Wall, I’ll be squeegeed!” cried Cap’n Pem as he turned at the sound of the party’s arrival. “Where’n——” Then, catching sight of the boys’ companions he leaped forward with a hop and a skip.
“By the etarnal, I’m glad to see ye!” he cried. “Nor’west perlice, ain’t ye? Where’n Sam Hill’d these youngsters pick ye up?”
“Any trouble?” demanded Sergeant Manley without stopping to reply to the old whaleman’s queries.
“Trouble!” exploded old Pem. “Mut’ny! Them there critters has seized the Ruby an’ won’t let nary a man aboard, dod gast their hides!”
“Where’s the captain?” snapped out the sergeant as he slipped his carbine from its sheath and Campbell did the same.
“Here he comes,” said Tom. “What started the mutiny, Cap’n Pem?”