The man whipped out a huge red handkerchief and wiped the beads of sweat from his brow. “Nice, pleasant little pet you’ve got there,” he remarked. “I reckon a biting dog is the only thing I’m afraid of.”
“Who are you, and what do you want?” demanded Case, his clear gray eyes on the other’s face. The man was dressed roughly and there were rents in his clothing, but his hands and face were clean and his face bore a good humored if determined expression.
The man twirled his hat for a moment before replying. “I had it all fixed in regular order what I wanted to say, but that dog has pretty near scairt it all out of my head. Are you the boss of this outfit?”
“We have no bosses, or rather, we are all bosses?” Clay smiled.
“Well, I guess you will do as well to talk to as any of the rest. I heard that you were going to the Yukon and I want to go along with you—me and my partner.”
“Where did you hear we were going to the Yukon?” demanded Case, sharply.
The man produced a soiled morning paper and laid a huge forefinger on an article in one corner.
Clay read it in silence and some bewilderment.
“The Rambler boys are soon to start off on another of their famous cruises. This time they have chosen the far-away Yukon as their goal. It’s a bold attempt, but they are all Chicago boys and we believe they will make it. At any rate, we wish them the best of good luck.”
Case kept his eyes on the paper for a moment after he finished reading the notice, pondering how it had appeared so soon. The paper had been published long before he and his companions had got up. Charley thought it had been inserted either by Ike or one of the mysterious eavesdroppers of the night before. But for what reason had it been inserted? He gave up the puzzle and looked up at the man who was watching him eagerly.