<h2 id="c19"><span class="small">CHAPTER XIX</span> <br/>SHIPS THAT PASS IN THE NIGHT</h2>
<p>Much as they regretted it, Joe Marion and
Jennings after a night’s sleep were forced to
admit that it seemed their duty to push on over
the trail left by the outlaw.</p>
<p>“’Twouldn’t be so bad if we hadn’t caught
Munson’s message,” said Joe thoughtfully. “In
a case like this, one is obliged to consider the
highest good to the greatest number. It might
easily happen that a delay on our part at this
moment would mean the loss of Munson’s entire
party. It would almost surely mean that if they
arrived at Flaxman Island to find their supply
depot in ashes.”</p>
<p>“And as for Curlie,” added Jennings, “if
he came out of that blizzard alive with his
rifle in hand, he’ll take care of himself, trust
him for that.”</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[155]</div>
<p>“Yes, and with that hind-quarter of caribou
meat.”</p>
<p>So it was decided that they should press on.
They had followed the trail of the outlaw for
ten miles or more when they came upon footprints
in the snow beside the trail which seemed
to indicate that the outlaw had paused in his
travel.</p>
<p>“Wonder what he stopped there for?” said
Jennings, examining the tracks carefully.
“From the position of his feet I’d say he’d been
looking down the hill.”</p>
<p>“Aw, c’mon,” said Joe. “The big point is,
he went straight on and we’re following.”</p>
<p>A hundred yards farther on they came to
a place where a reindeer and sled joined the
trail.</p>
<p>“That’s queer!” said Jennings, pausing
again. “Funny that fellow would follow the
outlaw. Looks exactly like the track made by
that other fellow when he pulled out of that
clump of willows after he’d left his deer tied
there all night and had camped in our thicket.
Wonder if it could have been the same man.”</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[156]</div>
<p>He would have wondered still more had he
known that his companion, Curlie, was on that
sled and that each mile he traveled brought him
closer to the curly-haired young radiophone expert.</p>
<p>His wonder did grow apace when, mile after
mile, the reindeer driver followed the trail of
the outlaw.</p>
<p>“Wonder what he’s after,” he mumbled over
and over.</p>
<p>When presently he saw the reindeer tracks
suddenly swing to the right and down the ridge,
and by straining his eyes he made out a large
herd of reindeer feeding at the edge of the
scrub forest, he was truly disappointed.</p>
<p>“Thought it meant something,” he grumbled,
“his following along that way. But I guess he
was just following the ridge for good going till
he got to his reindeer herd. We might go down
and buy some reindeer meat. I think I see a
cabin at the edge of the forest. They might
have other things to eat, coffee, hardtack and
the like. Natives often do.”</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[157]</div>
<p>“Can’t afford to use up the time,” said Joe.
“We’re doing well enough on caribou meat.
Got quite a supply of it yet. So we’d better
mush along. All right, Ginger! Let’s go,” he
shouted. His leader leaped to his feet and they
were away.</p>
<p>It would be interesting to speculate on just
what would have happened had they decided to
descend the hill to trade with the natives. They
might have been ambushed and slain, for Curlie
Carson was at that moment in the cabin at
the edge of the forest and he was far from
free to go his own way.</p>
<p>So like ships in the night they passed, Curlie
Carson and his pals. Only once Jennings paused
to look back. Then as he shaded his eyes he
said to Joe:</p>
<p>“Seems like I see something hovering up
there about the tree tops.”</p>
<p>“White owl or raven,” said Joe.</p>
<p>“No, I don’t think it is. Can’t quite make
out what it is, though.”</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[158]</div>
<p>Then they pressed on over the trail left by
the sleds of the outlaw.</p>
<p>The fluttering above the edge of the forest
was caused by neither white owl nor raven, but
by three balloons bobbing about in the air; a
red one, a white one and a blue one. These
balloons, considerably larger than toy balloons,
were kept from fluttering away by silk cords
reaching to the cabin below.</p>
<p>Before we can explain their presence here we
must first tell what had happened to Curlie Carson
since we left him huddled behind a snowbank
with bullets singing over him.</p>
<p>Without knowing why he had been attacked
Curlie realized that he was in grave danger.
These rough men, whoever they might be, were
apparently bent on his destruction.</p>
<p>For the moment he was safe. The snowbank
was thick and solid. A bullet, he knew, made
little progress in snow. But they might outflank
him and come in to the right or left of
him. They doubtless believed him to be in
possession of a rifle, or at least an automatic.
They would plan their attack with extreme
caution but in time they would get him.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[159]</div>
<p>Twisting about under cover he studied the
lie of the snow to right and left of him. It
was not reassuring. True, there were other
snow ridges, but to reach these he must expose
himself. This would not do. To cut himself
a trench along the hillside would take too long.
Besides he would be detected in the attempt. He
thought of his belt radiophone equipment.</p>
<p>“Might get up a balloon aerial,” he told himself,
“and send an S. O. S. But that would
take time—too much time. Besides, who’d
come to my rescue? Deuce of a mess, I’d say!”</p>
<p>He at length determined on a bold move.</p>
<p>“Might get shot down on the spot,” he admitted,
“but it’s better than waiting.”</p>
<p>The thing he did was to leap suddenly upon
the crest of the snowbank with his hands held
high in air, at the same time keeping a sharp
eye on the attackers. If they shot he would
instantly drop back.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[160]</div>
<p>They did not shoot. Their rifles went to their
shoulders but when they saw his hands in air
they hesitated.</p>
<p>After a brief consultation, two of them, with
rifles extended before them for a hip-shot,
walked slowly toward him.</p>
<p>When they were within twenty yards of him
Curlie said in the calmest tone he could command:</p>
<p>“What’s the matter with you fellows? I
didn’t steal your reindeer. Found him tangled
in a thicket where he would have starved. Besides,
I have no guns. What harm could I
do you?”</p>
<p>Without a word the two men proceeded to
advance. As they came closer Curlie became
convinced that they were Indians and not
Eskimos as he had supposed them to be.</p>
<p>“That makes it look different,” he told himself.
“They may be reindeer rustlers who have
stolen the reindeer herd. Probably are. Never
heard of a reindeer herd being given to Indians.
Might have, for all that. Or they may be just
herding them for some white men.”</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[161]</div>
<p>As the two men came up to him one man felt
of his clothing for concealed weapons. After
this, with a grunt, he pointed toward the cabin,
then led the way, leaving his companion to
bring up the rear.</p>
<p>Arrived at the edge of the forest, the foremost
man joined the man who had remained
behind. After a short consultation in tones too
low to be understood, he returned to Curlie and
again motioning him to follow, led him to a
low log cabin.</p>
<p>Once inside this cabin, he pushed Curlie into
a small dark room, after which he swung to a
heavy door and dropped a ponderous bar.</p>
<p>“Well now, what about that?” Curlie whispered
to himself.</p>
<p>A hasty survey of his prison revealed a chair
and a rough bed made of poles on which there
rested some filthy blankets. The place was
lighted by two windows, not more than ten
inches square. The walls were of heavy logs.</p>
<p>“I wonder who they are and who they think
I am,” he asked himself.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[162]</div>
<p>He sat down to think and as he did so his
arm brushed his belt. At that moment an inspiration
came to him.</p>
<p>“Worth trying anyway,” he whispered as
he rose hastily. “Have to be quick about it
though. Lucky that window’s at the back of
the cabin.”</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[163]</div>
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