“I have been thinking it over,” said Clay, during one of the lulls in the conversation, “and I do not believe we had ought to leave the Rambler with no one on board of her. It was all right to do so in the winter, for then she was frozen up and no one could make away with her, run her into some slip, paint her and with a few hours of alteration, make her into a different looking boat. Those foot-steps last night prove that the river thieves are beginning to gather around for their summer trade. I think one of us had better be on the Rambler all the time.”
His companions’ faces became downcast. Each had made a list of the things he was to buy and were eager to be off to their purchasing. Neither wanted to stay idle on board and lose their share of the fun. But Case spoke up manfully.
“I’ll stay,” he said, “my list is far the smallest and if neither of you get back in time, I’ll do my buying tomorrow.”
“Thanks,” said Clay, gratefully, “I would stay myself, but the new motor will be the first thing needed and I want to see to that myself for I have had some experience with them.”
As soon as the two were gone, Case set about the unpleasant task of washing the dishes and cleanup the cabin. This done, he strolled out on the wharf and sitting down on a box in the warm sunshine chatted with the aged dock tender who had been a sailor until age had compelled him to quit the sea. He could tell many strange tales of queer places and mysterious adventures and he was always willing to relate them to the boys who often on cold, stinging days invited him down into the Rambler’s cozy cabin to share their warm dinner or drink a cup of scalding hot coffee.
“Yep,” he answered, in reply to Case’s questions, “I’ve been to the Yukon once and once is enough for me. We were hunting seals and run into the river to get out of a gale and afore it moderated enough for us to get out we were froze in solid. Lord! what a winter we had. We had plenty of salt stuff but our potatoes soon went and the scurvy broke out and then came the long winter night, and all the time there was but white all around us. Nothing but white and a great everlasting silence—just like as though the whole world had gone dead never to come to life again. The silence and the whiteness got on our nerves and we got to quarreling with each other. There was a good many killed before the ice broke up. We had left only about half enough able men to work the ship. It wasn’t long though before we sighted a steamer and hoisted our distress signal and she stopped for us to board her. She was overloaded with the first bunch of gold seekers. Her captain let us have considerable potatoes, and, by slicing them up thin and chewing them up raw good and fine, what was left of us were nearly well when we got to San Francisco. My, but those raw potatoes tasted better than anything I ever ate,” and the old seaman smacked his lips over the recollection.
“I guess the winters up there are pretty rough?” Case assented, but we intend to be on our way home long before the river freezes over.”
“Sonny,” said the old sailor, earnestly. “You can’t calculate on the Yukon. Old timers and the Indians call it ‘The Never Know What’ on ’count of its contrary ways. Let me give you some good advice if you are bent on going. Take lots of tallow candles and potatoes with you. Course you can take all the fancy stuff you want, but a good meal of tallow keeps your human furnace running full blast and the taters keep off the scurvy. Look there, sonny, you’ve got a visitor.”
Case jumped up from his box just in time to see a man entering the Rambler’s open cabin. He grinned, “Captain Joe will look out for him all right, but I guess I had better go aboard and see what he wants.” He sauntered aboard leisurely and entered the cabin. The man was standing close to the opening looking as though he wanted to run but was afraid to turn around, for Captain Joe, with bared fangs and growling lowly, was stealthily advancing from the further end of the cabin.”
“Down, Captain Joe, down,” Case cried, just as the dog crouched lower for a spring. Captain Joe relaxed and retired sullenly to his corner.