<h2 id="c12"><br/>CHAPTER XII <br/>ANCIENT TREASURE</h2>
<p>With a hand that trembled slightly, Marian
held the candle that was to light their way in
the exploration of the mysterious mountain
cavern. As if drawn by a magnet, she led the
way straight to the spot where but a few hours
before she had been so frightened by finding
herself standing in the burned out ashes and
bones of an old camp-fire.</p>
<p>She laughed now as she bent over to examine
the spot. There could be no question that there
had once been a camp-fire here. There were a
number of bones strewn about, too.</p>
<p>“That fire,” she said slowly, “must have
burned itself out years ago; perhaps fifty years.
Those bones are from the legs of a reindeer or
caribou. They’re old, too. How gray and dry
they are! They are about to fall into dust.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_105">[105]</div>
<p>She studied the spot for some time. At last
she straightened up.</p>
<p>“Not much to it, after all,” she sighed. “It’s
interesting enough to know that some storm
blown traveler who attempted the pass, as we did,
once spent the night here. But he left no relic
of interest behind, unless—why—what have
you there?” She turned suddenly to her
companion.</p>
<p>Attatak was holding a slim, dull brown object
in her hand.</p>
<p>“Only the broken handle of an old cow-drill,”
she said slowly, still studying the thing by the
candle light.</p>
<p>“It’s ivory.”</p>
<p>“<i>Eh-eh.</i>”</p>
<p>“And quite old?”</p>
<p>“Mebby twenty, mebby fifty years. Who
knows?”</p>
<p>“Why are you looking at it so sharply?”</p>
<p>“Trying to read.”</p>
<p>“Read what?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_106">[106]</div>
<p>“Well,” smiled Attatak, as she placed the bit
of ivory in Marian’s hand, “long ago, before
the white man came, my people told stories by
drawing little pictures on ivory. They scratched
the pictures on the ivory, then rubbed smoke
black in them so they would see them well. This
cow-drill handle is square. It has four sides.
Each side tells a story. Three are of hunting—walrus,
polar bear and caribou. But the other
side is something else. I can’t quite tell what it
says.”</p>
<p>Marian studied it for a time in silence.</p>
<p>“Mr. Cole would love that,” she said at last,
and her thoughts were far away. For the
moment her mind had carried her back to those
thrilling days aboard the pleasure yacht, <i>The
O’Moo</i>. Since you have doubtless read our
other book, “The Cruise of <i>The O’Moo</i>,” I
need scarcely remind you that Mr. Cole was the
curator of a great museum, and knew all about
strange and ancient things. He had done much
to aid Marian and her friends in unravelling
the mystery of the strange blue face.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_107">[107]</div>
<p>“Bring it along,” Marian said, handing the
piece back to Attatak. “It tells us one thing—that
the man who built that fire was an Eskimo.
It is worth keeping. I should like to take it
with me to the Museum when I go back.</p>
<p>“Now,” she said briskly, “let’s go all over
the cave. There may be things that we have
not yet discovered.”</p>
<p>And indeed there were. It was with the
delicious sensation of research and adventure
that the girls wandered back and forth from
wall to wall of the gloomy cavern.</p>
<p>Not until they had passed the spot where
they had spent the night, and were far back
in the cave, did they make a discovery of any
importance. Then it was that Marian, with a
little cry of joy, put out her hand and took from
a ledge of rock a strange looking little dish no
larger than a finger bowl. It was so incrusted
with dirt and dust that she could not tell whether
it was really a rare find of some ancient pottery,
or an ordinary china dish left here by some
white adventurer. However, something within
her seemed to whisper: “Here is wealth untold;
here is a prize that will cause your friend, the
museum curator, to turn green with envy.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_108">[108]</div>
<p>“<i>Sulee!</i>” (another), said Attatak, as she took
down a larger object of the same general shape.</p>
<p>A few feet farther on was a ledge fairly
covered with curious objects; strange shaped
dishes; bits of ivory, black as coal; pieces of copper,
dulled with age. Such were the treasures
of the past that lay before them.</p>
<p>“Someone’s pantry of long ago,” mused
Marian.</p>
<p>“Very, very old,” said Attatak, holding up a
bit of black ivory. “Mebby two hundred, mebby
five hundred years. Ivory turn black slow; very,
very slow. By and by, after long, long time, look
like that.”</p>
<p>As Attatak uttered these words Marian could
have hugged her for sheer joy. She knew now
that they had made a very rare find. The objects
had not been left there by a white man, but
by some native. Broken bits of ancient Eskimo
pottery had been found in mounds on the Arctic
coast. Those had been treasured. But here
were perfect specimens, such as any museum in
the world would covet.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_109">[109]</div>
<p>And yet, had she but known it, the rareness
and value of some of these were to exceed her
fondest dreams. But this discovery was to come
later.</p>
<p>Drawing off her calico parka, Marian tied it
at the top, and using it as a sack, carefully
packed all the articles.</p>
<p>“Let’s go back,” she said in an awed whisper.</p>
<p>“<i>Eh-eh</i>,” Attatak answered.</p>
<p>There was a strange spookiness about the
place that made them half afraid to remain any
longer.</p>
<p>They had turned to go, when Marian, chancing
to glance down, saw the bit of ivory they had
found by the outer camp-fire. At first she was
tempted to let it remain where it lay. It seemed
an insignificant thing after the discovery of these
rarer treasures. But finally she picked it up
and thrust it into her bag.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_110">[110]</div>
<p>Well for her that she did. Later it was to
prove the key to a mystery, an entirely new
mystery which had as yet not appeared above
their horizon, but was, in a way, associated with
the mystery of the purple flame.</p>
<p>“Listen!” said Marian, as they came nearer
to the mouth of the cave, “I do believe the storm
is passing. Perhaps we can get off the mountain
to-day. Oh, Attatak! We’ll win yet!
Won’t that be glorious?”</p>
<p>It was true; the storm was passing. Attatak
was dispatched to investigate, and soon came
hurrying back with the report that they could
be on their way as soon as they had eaten breakfast
and packed.</p>
<p>Marian was possessed with a wild desire to
inspect her newly discovered treasure—to wash,
scrub and scrape it and try to discover how it
was made and what it was made of. Yet she
realized that any delay for such a cause would
be all but criminal folly. So, after a hasty
breakfast, she rubbed as much dust as she could
from the strange treasures and packed them
carefully in the folds of the sleeping bags.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_111">[111]</div>
<p>Soon the girls found themselves beside their
deer, picking their way cautiously forward over
the remaining distance to the divide; then quite
as cautiously they started down the other side.</p>
<p>During the day they halted for a cold
lunch while their reindeer fed on a broad plateau,
a protected place where they were safe from
the wild blizzards of the peaks that loomed far
above them.</p>
<p>“From now on,” said Marian, “there will be
little rest for us. Our bold stroke has saved us
nothing. It is now a question of whether reindeer
are trustworthy steeds in the Arctic; also
whether girls are capable of solving problems,
and of enduring many hardships. As for me,”
she shook her fist in the general direction of
Scarberry’s herd, “I’ll say they are. We’ll win!
See if we don’t!”</p>
<p>To this declaration Attatak uttered an “<i>Eh-eh</i>,”
which to Marian sounded like a fervent
“Amen!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_112">[112]</div>
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