“You wonder why I tell you all this,” said the Eskimo, and Bobby nodded. “I have no family— I am alone. I like you and your friends,” Takyak went on. “And, besides, there is no one else on the ship that I trust. Garrish—you must never let Garrish know!”
At mention of the captain’s name it seemed as though both Takyak and Bobby were struck with the same thought.
The chief caught at his coat sleeve, tugging at it, nervously.
“You must go now,” he ordered, in a panicky whisper. “You must not be discovered here. Go—and may you—find the fortune and—live long to—enjoy it.”
The last words were uttered in a gasping whisper and at the conclusion of them Takyak sank back, weak and trembling and waved a shaking hand toward the door.
“Go,” he whispered urgently. “Go quickly.” Bobby started to obey, then came back again. He bent over Chief Takyak and firmly gripped the sick man’s hand.
“I’ll find the treasure if it’s possible,” he promised sturdily, adding, in a tone he tried to make encouraging: “But I’m betting that you will be a well man soon and ready to take your share of it.” To this Takyak only shook his head and waved his hand once more imperatively toward the door.
“No, no,” he whispered. “I am dying. I know it. Good-by—and—luck.”
With a mingling of emotions Bobby cautiously opened the cabin door and peered into the corridor. There was no one in sight and, realizing the danger of lingering even for a moment in that neighborhood, he ran at top speed toward the sailors’ quarters.
He could hardly credit the amazing thing that had just happened to him. He might even have thought he had dreamed it all if his hand, thrust into his pocket, had not felt the compass, the little instrument that was going to give him and his companions freedom, and the token.