“Hurray,” cried Jack. “That’s a promise.”
CHAPTER II.—SETTING OUT FROM NOME.
“Well, boys, where do we go from here?”
It was Frank who asked the question, and he sat on a heap of luggage on the beach at Nome, with Jack and Bob beside him looking alternately at the mountain beyond the Alaskan outpost and at Mr. Hampton deep in conversation with a short sturdy figure of a man, clad in khaki breeches, high leather boots and a flannel shirt, a short distance away. The figure was that of Tom Farnum, scout of the independent oil interests at Nome.
It was Summer, and Summer in Alaska as the boys were beginning to realize meant hot weather, indeed. All had their coats off, and were perspiring. Only an hour before they had been put ashore by the steamer from Seattle, and Mr. Hampton had left them on the beach with their luggage while he went in search of Tom Farnum, who had failed to meet them at the landing as they had expected.
“Where do we go from here?” Jack repeated Frank’s question. “Well, if you ask me, almost any place would be better than Nome.”
He looked with disfavor at the little town sprawling at the base of the mountain.
“Not just what I expected,” he said. “I’ve heard of Nome all my life, it seems, and now, just look at it. Why, it’s hardly a spot on the map.”
“But what a history it has had, Jack,” said Frank. “Don’t judge by appearances too much. Remember this town has seen the Gold Rush.”
“I wonder what Dad is talking about,” said Jack, ignoring Frank’s remark.