Clay hesitated. “It seems a bold one to propose, but I really believe our best chance lies in a trip up the Yukon.”
“Whew!” whistled Alex and Case together. “You mean for us to go up there and hunt for gold? We know nothing about mining,” said Case.
“It would be lots of fun,” Alex insisted, “but it’s some trip up there to the Yukon.”
“I did not mean for us to go merely for gold, although I think we could soon learn enough about it to try it out if we so desired,” Case explained. “My idea was to stock up with beads, trinkets and tobacco—especially tobacco—to trade with the Indians for skins, furs, and specimens of the far North. Even at the worst we could go to work and make big wages, for labor is scarce up there.”
“But will not the expense of such a trip be something fierce?” inquired the gloomy Case.
“It will. We would have to ship the Rambler by rail to Seattle and the cost of transportation for her and ourselves would be high. You see it is not so very long since gold was discovered in Alaska and the rush of people to get there enables the steamers to charge almost any price.”
“Keep still a second,” exclaimed Alex. “Isn’t that some one moving about up on deck?”
He darted for the cabin door, followed by his two companions. Coming from the brightly lighted cabin out into the night, they could not see ten feet in the inky darkness, but they could hear the retreat of hurried foot-steps going up the dock.
“No use trying to catch him in this darkness,” Clay remarked. “Probably it’s only a river thief. Let’s go down into the cabin.”
“Call him a river thief if you want to,” Case said, darkly, “but I doubt it. All our trips seem to start with a mystery.”