<h2 id="c22"><br/>CHAPTER XXII <br/>A FRUITLESS JOURNEY</h2>
<p>It was night; such a night as only the Arctic
knows. Cold stars, gleaming like bits of burnished
silver in the sky, shone down upon vast
stretches of glistening snow. Out of that whiteness
one object loomed, black as ink against the
whiteness of its background.</p>
<p>Weary with five days of constant travel,
Marian found herself approaching this black
bulk. She pushed doggedly forward, expecting
at every moment to catch a lightning-like zig-zag
flash of purple flame shooting up the side of it.</p>
<p>The black bulk was the old dredge in Sinrock
River. She had passed that way twice before.
Each time she had hoped to find there a haven of
rest, and each time she had been frightened away
by the flash of the purple flame. Those mysterious
people had left this spot at one time. Had
they returned? Was the dredge now a place of
danger, or a haven for weary travellers? The
answer to this question was only to be found
by marching boldly up to the dredge.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_178">[178]</div>
<p>This called for courage. Born with a brave
soul, Marian was equal to any emergency. Sheer
weariness and lack of sleep added to this a touch
of daring.</p>
<p>Without pausing, she drove straight up to the
door. Reassured by the snow banked up against
it, she hastily scooped away the bank with her
snow-shoe, and having shoved the door open,
boldly entered.</p>
<p>It was a cheerless place, black and empty.
The wind whistled through the cracks where the
planks had rotted away. Yet it was a shelter.
Passing through another door, she found herself
in an inner room that housed the boiler of the
engine that had furnished power to the dredge.
The boiler, a great red drum of rust, stood
directly in front of her.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_179">[179]</div>
<p>“Here’s where we camp,” she said to Attatak.
“We can build a fire in the fire-box of the boiler
and broil some steak. That will be splendid!”</p>
<p>“<i>Eh-eh</i>,” grinned Attatak.</p>
<p>“And Attatak, bring the deer through the
outer door, then close it. They were fed two
hours ago. That will do until morning.”</p>
<p>She lighted a candle, gathered up some bits of
wood that lay strewn about the narrow room,
and began to kindle a fire while Attatak went out
after the deer.</p>
<p>For the moment, being alone, she began to
think of the herd. How was the herd faring?
What had happened to Patsy during those many
days of her absence? Were Bill Scarberry’s
deer rapidly destroying her herd ground.</p>
<p>“Well, if they are, we are powerless to prevent
it,” she told herself with a sigh.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_180">[180]</div>
<p>As she looked back upon it now, she felt that
her whole journey had been a colossal failure.
They had discovered the mountain cave treasure,
only to be obliged to leave the treasure behind.
They had reached the Station in time to talk
with the Government Agent, but he had not been
able to come with her. Only twenty-four hours
before they had reached the cabin of Ben Neighbor,
only to find it dark and deserted. He had
gone somewhere, as people in the Arctic have a
way of doing; and where that might be she could
not even hazard a guess. At last, in despair, she
had headed her deer toward her own camp. In
thirty-six hours she would be there.</p>
<p>“Well, at any rate,” she sighed, “it will be a
pleasure to see Patsy and to sleep the clock round
in our own sweet little deerskin bedroom.”</p>
<p>She was indeed to see Patsy, but the privilege
of sleeping the clock round was not to be hers
for many a day. She was destined to find the
immediate future far too stirring for that.</p>
<p>Twenty-four hours later saw Marian well on
her way home. Ten hours more, she felt sure,
would bring her to camp. And then what? She
could not even guess. Had she been able to
even so much as suspect what was going on at
camp, she would have urged her reindeer to do
their utmost.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_181">[181]</div>
<p class="tb">Patsy was right in the middle of a peck of
trouble. Because of the fact that for the last
few days she had been living in a realm of exciting
dreams, the troubles that had come down
upon her seemed all the more grievous. Since
that most welcome radio message regarding the
proposed purchase of reindeer by the Canadian
Government had come drifting in over the air,
she had, during every available moment, hovered
over the radio-phone in the momentary expectation
of receiving the confirmation of that rumor
which might send the herd over mountains and
tundra in a wild race for a prize, a prize worth
thousands of dollars to her uncle and cousin—the
sale of the herd.</p>
<p>Perhaps it was because of her too close application
to the radio-phone that she failed to note
the approach of Scarberry’s herd as it returned
to ravish their feeding ground. Certain it was
that the first of the deer, with the entire herd
close upon their heels, were already over the
hills before she knew of their coming.</p>
<p>It was night when Terogloona brought this bit
of disquieting news.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_182">[182]</div>
<p>“And this time,” Patsy wailed, “we have not
so much as one hungry Eskimo with his dog to
send against them.”</p>
<p>As if in answer to the complaint, the aged
herder plucked at her sleeve, then led her out
beneath the open sky.</p>
<p>With an impressive gesture, he waved his
arm toward the distant hills that lay in the
opposite direction of Scarberry’s herd. To her
great surprise and mystification, she saw gleaming
there the lights of twenty or more campfires.</p>
<p>“<i>U-bogok</i>,” (see there) he said.</p>
<p>“What—what does it mean?” Patsy stammered,
grasping at her dry throat.</p>
<p>“It is that I fear,” said Terogloona. “They
come. To-morrow they are here. You gave
food for a week for a few; flour, sugar, bacon.
They like him. Now come whole village of
Sitne-zok. Want food. You gave them food.
What you think? No food for herders, no
herders. No herders, no herd. What you
think?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_183">[183]</div>
<p>Patsy did not know what to think. Gone was
all her little burst of pride over the way she had
handled the other situation that had confronted
her. Now she felt that she was but a girl, a
very small girl, and very, very much alone. She
wished Marian would come. Oh, how she did
wish that she would come!</p>
<p>“In the morning we will see what can be
done,” was all she could say to the faithful old
herder as she turned to re-enter the igloo.</p>
<p>That night she did not undress. She sat up
for hours, trying to think of some way out. She
sat long with the radio head-set over her ears.
She entertained some wild notion of fleeing with
the herd toward the Canadian border, providing
the message confirming the offer for the deer
came. But the message did not come.</p>
<p>At last, in utter exhaustion, she threw herself
among the deerskins and fell into a troubled
sleep.</p>
<p>She was roused from this sleep by a loud:
“Hello there!” followed by a cheery: “Where
are you? Are you asleep?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_184">[184]</div>
<p>It was Marian. The next moment poor, tired,
worried Patsy threw herself sobbing into her
cousin’s strong arms.</p>
<p>“There now,” said Marian, soothingly, as
Patsy’s sobbing ceased, “sit down and tell me all
about it. You’re safe; that’s something. Your
experiences can’t have been worse than ours.”</p>
<p>“The Eskimo! Bill Scarberry’s herd!” burst
out Patsy, “They’re here. All of them!”</p>
<p>“Tell me all about it,” encouraged Marian.</p>
<p>“Wait till I get my head-set on,” said Patsy,
more hopefully. “It’s been due for days; may
come at any time.”</p>
<p>“What’s due?” asked Marian, mystified.</p>
<p>“Wait! I’ll tell you. One thing at a time.
Let’s get it all straight.”</p>
<p>She began at the beginning and recited all that
had transpired since Marian had left camp.
When she came to tell of her discovery that one
of the mysterious occupants of the tent of the
purple flame was a girl, Marian’s astonishment
knew no bounds. When told of the bloody trail,
Marian was up in arms. The camp of the purple
flame must be raided at once. They would put
a stop to that sort of thing. They would take
their armed herders and raid that camp this very
night.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_185">[185]</div>
<p>“But wait!” Patsy held up a warning finger,
“I am not half through yet. There is more.
Too much more!”</p>
<p>She was in the midst of recounting her experiences
with the band of wandering Eskimo and
Scarberry’s herd, when suddenly she clapped the
radio receiver tightly to her ears and stopped
talking. Then she murmured:</p>
<p>“It’s coming! At last, it is coming!”</p>
<p>“For goodness sake!” exclaimed Marian, out
of all patience, “Will you kindly tell me what is
coming?”</p>
<p>But Patsy only held the receiver to her ears
and listened the more intently as she whispered:</p>
<p>“Shush! Wait!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_186">[186]</div>
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