Jerry whistled. “What’s it all mean, Sandy?”
“I don’t know, pal. But I don’t like it.”
Still surrounded by his ring of canine admirers, Tagish Charley addressed Judy Crowell. “You no worry about your papa, Miss Judy. Charley take good care of him. Bad fellers come around, me break ’em up like firewood.” He made a twisting motion in the air with his two huge fists.
For some reason Sandy felt relieved. “I didn’t know you were coming with us, Charley.”
Charley’s serious, expressionless face altered for a fleeting instant in a suggestion of a smile. “I just decide now.”
CHAPTER THREE
A Mysterious Intruder
The little caravan headed north on the Alaska Highway about 12:20 P.M. Professor Crowell, Dr. Steele and Lou Mayer led the way in the big station wagon, which was loaded down with scientific equipment and supplies. Sandy, Jerry and Tagish Charley followed in a surplus U.S. Army six-by-six truck. The boys and the Indian all rode in the roomy cab, with Sandy at the wheel. The back of the truck, roofed with a heavy canvas top, had been converted into a comfortable compartment for the professor’s seven prize huskies. Here, also, were the big dog sled, a pyramidal tent, sleeping bags, cooking utensils and a Coleman stove.
As Professor Crowell pointed out, there were tourist camps and aid stations all along the highway, but sometimes it was more convenient to set up one’s own camp at the side of the road. Particularly in winter, travelers had to be prepared for emergencies.
Both vehicles were equipped with heavy-duty tire chains on all wheels, plus oversized snow tires, and they rode smoothly and firmly across the hard-packed snow surface of the highway.
As the afternoon deepened into an early dusk, the temperature plummeted, and the chill penetrated the cab of the truck, even though the heater was going full blast. Sandy doubled up his hands into fists inside his mittens and wriggled his feet inside his fur-lined boots to stimulate his circulation.