The policemen were considerably disappointed to find that Mistak’s band had once more given them the slip. The scattering of the band had made it impossible to tell just which trail was Mistak’s, and there was nothing more to do but return to the base of operations for more dogs and supplies.
After a scanty meal at Mistak’s deserted camp, they set out upon the forty-mile dash to the home camp, praying for fair weather, and hoping no more of the dogs would contract the dreaded piblockto.
Five days of fair weather and the half-famished company came in sight of their base to find considerable changes in evidence. In place of the three igloos they had built, there were ten of the neat snow houses. A host of dogs hung about the little village, and out at sea they could see two kayacks bobbing about, manned by as many Eskimos.
“What is this!” exclaimed Corporal McCarthy. “Visitors, eh!”
“I’ll bet I know how they came here!” Dick exclaimed.
“I think I know, too,” Sandy added.
“Well, what do you think accounts for all these uninvited guests?” asked Constable Sloan.
“Sipsa brought them,” Dick replied. “Remember, I told you how he left us and that his trail led over the back trail? Well, just as Sandy and I had it figured out, he went after some of his people on account of the good seal hunting here.”
Just then the appearance of Toma changed the subject, and the boys hastened forward to greet their young Indian friend. Though Toma must have been filled with great joy upon seeing Dick and Sandy safe and sound, he did not express it except with a broad grin and an added brightness in his black eyes.
Shortly, proof appeared that Dick had been right in his surmise as to the reason for the coming of the Eskimos. It was in the form of Sipsa’s moon face, split by a huge smile. The guide showed himself while Toma and the policemen were unharnessing the dogs and unpacking the sledge. Constable Sloan spoke to the native, reprimanding him for deserting the boys, but Sipsa did not quite understand that his offense had been so serious.