<h2 id="c14"><span class="small">CHAPTER XIV</span> <br/>A STRANGE SIGHT</h2>
<p>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.</p>
<p>A wild battle with the storm followed. Panting,
freezing, aching in every muscle, yet doggedly
determined, he fought his way from hilltop
to hilltop.</p>
<p>“Ought to be getting near the place,” he
told himself as he found himself in a valley
broader than any other he had crossed. “Nothing
looks familiar. Can’t see far. Blamed
snow keeps blowing so.”</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[114]</div>
<p>Suddenly he stopped short. A black hulk
loomed just before him. His heart skipped a
beat? What was it? A cabin? Some Indian’s
hut? A miner’s shack? What a boon in a wild
night such as this!</p>
<p>He was not left long in doubt. Pressing
eagerly forward for twenty yards he at last
paused to exclaim: “Willows! Just willows
with dead leaves on!”</p>
<p>But willows were something. They meant a
shelter from the blasts of wind which had been
slowly beating the life out of him. They meant,
too, a possible fire.</p>
<p>“I’ll just get into them and see what can
be done,” he mumbled as he once more beat his
way forward.</p>
<p>So great was the relief from getting away
from the knife-edged wind that he felt there
must be somewhere among the willows a hidden
fire.</p>
<p>“Might make one, at that,” he told himself.</p>
<p>Struggling through the dense growth, he
came at last to an open spot some five yards
in diameter which, he decided, was probably a
frozen pool. About this the willows grew to
a height of eight feet. The protection from
the gale was complete.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[115]</div>
<p>“I’ll camp here till it blows over!” he thought
as he began cutting down some slender willows
with his sheath knife. These he spread on the
smooth surface of the bare spot. Above them
he built a tent-shaped shelter with only one end
open. This completed, he began making a pile
of dry twigs and leaves. Over this at last he
piled larger, green branches. Finally he dug
down in the soft snow to where deep beds of
mosses lay. These were soft and dry.</p>
<p>“Good tinder,” he murmured as he unwrapped
a package of matches and struck one
of them.</p>
<p>Soon he had a crackling fire.</p>
<p>“That’s better,” he chuckled. “Much better!
Might even do a little cooking.”</p>
<p>Chipping off strips of frozen meat, he sharpened
a twig and strung them upon it. These he
held before the fire until they were done to a
delicious brown.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[116]</div>
<p>“Mm!” he exulted. “Couldn’t be better!
I only wish the other boys had some. Wonder
just where they are now.”</p>
<p>Had he but known it, they were camped in
the other end of this willow clump, not a quarter
of a mile away. Five minutes’ walk down the
frozen stream would have brought him to them.
But they had allowed their fire to die down and
had crept into their sleeping-bags. No smoke
came from them to him and the smoke from his
fire was blown directly away from them; so they
passed the night in ignorance of their close
proximity to each other. When morning came
they took courses which carried them miles
apart.</p>
<p>As for Curlie, when morning broke and he
found the storm had passed, he at once made his
way to the top of the hill to reconnoiter. There
strange things awaited him.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[117]</div>
<p>As he reached the crest of the hill he beheld,
apparently on the ridge just beyond, a sight
which caused his pulse to quicken. He saw
two dog teams moving along at a steady walk.
There were seven dogs in the first team and
eight in the second. They were hitched white
man fashion, two and two abreast. The sleds
of the long, basket type were well loaded. Atop
the first rode a powerfully built man, dressed
in an Eskimo parka. On the second sled, with
back to Curlie, rode another person. Dressed as
this one was in an Eskimo costume, one might
have said he was looking at a small Eskimo
man, a woman or a girl.</p>
<p>“The outlaw and the Whisperer,” he murmured.</p>
<p>Involuntarily his feet moved forward. To
approach them alone would seem madness. Yet,
so great was his desire to unravel their secret
that beyond question he would have risked it.
But a strange thing happened at that moment.</p>
<p>The sled party had come to the end of the
ridge. They should naturally have gone gliding
down the slope but, to Curlie’s vast astonishment,
they moved straight on into thin air.</p>
<p>“What”—his mouth flew open in astonishment.</p>
<p>The next instant he laughed.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[118]</div>
<p>“A mirage!”</p>
<p>And so it was. As he focused his eyes closely
upon the scene he could detect the faint outline
of the long ridge upon which the party was
really traveling.</p>
<p>“Might be forty miles away,” he told himself,
“and I was going to stop them. Well,
anyway,” he mused, “it’s a glimpse that may
aid us in the future.”</p>
<p>He set himself to studying every detail of
the equipment—dogs, harnesses, sleds, clothing,
everything. He even sat down on the snow
and traced on an old envelope with the stub
of a pencil the picture as he saw it.</p>
<p>Then, suddenly, the sleds dropped from
view.</p>
<p>“Light changed or they came to the edge of
the ridge,” he told himself.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[119]</div>
<p>Left to his own thoughts, he began to doubt
that this was the outlaw and his companion.
There were natives in this region. These people
had been dressed as natives. True, the dogs
were hitched white man fashion and the sleds
were white man type, but the Eskimo had
learned many things from the whites; they took
pleasure in imitating this superior race of people.</p>
<p>“No,” he said to himself, “it might not have
been them. I don’t really know that the Whisperer
exists at all. I don’t—”</p>
<p>He paused suddenly, to stare away to the
left of him where was another stream and a
second long clump of willows. The wind had
dropped to a whisper. The air was keen and
clear. From the midst of this clump of willows,
straight up a hundred feet there rose a thin,
pencil-like column of white vapor which appeared
to be smoke.</p>
<p>“Now who,” he asked himself, “can be
camping down there?”</p>
<p>His heart beat fast. Was it Jennings and
Joe? He would see.</p>
<p>Hurriedly, yet with utmost caution, he made
his way down the hill toward that clump of
willows from which the thin column continued
to rise.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[120]</div>
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