“Curlie Carson, can you hear me?”
Clapping his hands to his ears, he suddenly realized that his belt radio was working and that the Whisperer had returned.
Springing to his feet, he attempted to grasp the coil aerial. His hands and arms were like blocks of wood.
Madly he thrashed them about until circulation was partially restored. The Whisperer was still speaking. What she said was not as important as the mere fact that she was speaking at all. He had remembered that he was lost. He thought he knew about where she and the outlaw should be located. If he could but discover the direction from which this whisper came, he might take a course to the left of it and in that way find the camp of his companions. It was a desperate chance but better than none. He was now convinced that the writer of that book was mistaken. He knew now that a person with a clear conscience has no business going to sleep when the mercury is thirty or forty below.
“Are you - there - Curlie?” came the whisper. “I would - have - called - you - sooner Curlie - but I - could not. We - have come - a - long way.”
Ah, now his fingers were working. He could move the coil. He held his breath. Had the last word been spoken? Was he lost as before? No!
“Something - tells - me - you - are - near - us - now - Curlie. Do - be - careful. It - is - dangerous - very - very dangerous.”
As the whispered words ceased, Curlie’s fingers trembled. He had located the Whisperer not forty miles away. He thought he knew the way back to camp. The wind had fallen somewhat. There was now a chance, a chance for his life. Dragging out his pocket compass, he fought his way to the top of the hill, then mapped out as best he could a course which should take him to camp.
CHAPTER XIV
A STRANGE SIGHT
Before leaving his shelter Curlie hacked from the quarter of caribou meat a piece the size of a roast. This he managed to tie to his back. He then faced up the hill and, having reached the top, scrambled and slid to the valley beyond.