<h2 id="c27"><br/>CHAPTER XXVII <br/>THE END OF THE TRAIL</h2>
<p>Troops of conflicting hopes and fears waged
battle in Marian’s brain when she realized that
the pack approaching them on the run up the
trail in the teeth of the storm were not wolves,
but dogs. There are two types of dogs in Alaska;
one, more wolf than dog, is the native wolf dog.
This type, once he is loosed, leaps at the throat
of the first reindeer he sees. A pack of these
dogs, in such a crisis as the girls were now
facing, would not only destroy many of the
feebly struggling, worn-out and helpless younger
deer, but beyond doubt would drive the remainder
of the herd into such a wild panic as would
lose them to their owners forever.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_238">[238]</div>
<p>Were the dogs of this or the other type—white
men’s dogs, who treat the reindeer as they
might cattle or sheep, and merely bark at them
and drive them forward? If they were white
men’s dogs they might save the day; for the
barking of such a pack, as fresh for the struggle
they appeared to be, would doubtless drive the
exhausted deer to renewed efforts and carry
them on over the top.</p>
<p>With bated breath and trembling heart Marian
watched their approach. Once hope fell as she
thought she caught the sharp ki-yi of a wolf dog.
In this she must have been mistaken, for as they
came closer she saw that they were magnificent
shaggy-coated fellows, with an unmistakable
collie strain in their blood.</p>
<p>“Oh!” she cried, “‘the chariots of the Lord,
and the horsemen thereof.’”</p>
<p>It was a strange expression, but fitted the
occasion so well that Patsy felt her heart give a
great leap of joy.</p>
<p>Indeed the steeds of the Arctic, if not the
horsemen, had come to their aid in a time of
great need, and, passing them with a wild leap,
the dogs burst upon the deer with a rush and
roar that sent them forward by leaps and bounds.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_239">[239]</div>
<p>Staggering forward, the girls followed as best
they could. Now they were a thousand yards
from the summit, now five hundred, now three,
now two. And now the first deer were disappearing
over the top. Enheartened by this,
the others crowded forward until with one final
rush they all passed over the top and started
down on the other side.</p>
<p>Just as the girls reached the crest and were
peering over the summit, a shrill whistle smote
their ears. It sounded again, and yet again.
There was a movement just before them. Then
the snow-covered pack of dogs rushed pel-mel
past them on the back trail down hill.</p>
<p>“Someone whistled to them. They are going
back. How wonderfully they must be trained!”
exclaimed Patsy.</p>
<p>“They were someone’s team,” Marian said
slowly, as if for the first time realizing they had
not really been sent direct from Heaven to save
them. “They’re somebody’s team. He knew we
were in trouble and turned the dogs loose to
help us. I wonder who he could have been?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_240">[240]</div>
<p>For the present the question must remain
unanswered. The herd had gone on before them.
It was all important that they join them. So,
having straightened out the draw-straps to their
sleds, they began making their way down the
hard packed and uncertain descent.</p>
<p>It was not long before they came upon the
herd feeding on a little mountain plateau. Terogloona
was already busy making camp, and
Attatak thawing out food over a fire of tiny
scrub fir trees.</p>
<p>“Isn’t it wonderful to think that the great
struggle is over?” whispered Marian, contentedly,
as they lounged on their sleeping bags
an hour later. “This is really the worst of it,
I hope. Fort Jarvis can’t be more than four
days away now, over a smoother down trail.”</p>
<p>“If only we are in time!” sighed Patsy.</p>
<p>“We must be. Oh, we must!” exclaimed
Marian passionately. “Surely it would be too
much to struggle as we have, and then lose!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_241">[241]</div>
<p>Before Marian fell asleep she set her mind to
meet any outcome of their adventure. She
thought of the wonderful opportunities the sale
of the herd would bring to her father and herself.
Near some splendid school they must rent
a bungalow. There she would keep house for
him and go to school. In her mind she saw the
wonderful roses that bloomed around their door-step,
and pictured the glorious sunsets they
would view from their back door.</p>
<p>“Perhaps, too,” she told herself, “Patsy could
live with us for a year or two and attend my
school.”</p>
<p>When she had pictured all this, she saw in
her mind that the race had been lost; that Scarberry
had sold his herd to the Canadian officials;
that she was to turn the heads of her leading
reindeer toward the home tundra.</p>
<p>With great difficulty at first, but with ever
increasing enthusiasm, in her imagination she
drove the herd all the way back to enter once
more upon the wild, free, life of the herder.</p>
<p>“It really does not matter,” she told herself;
“it’s really only for father. He is so lonely
down there all by himself.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_242">[242]</div>
<p>In her heart of hearts she knew that it did
matter, mattered a very great deal indeed. Brave
girl that she was, she only prepared her mind
for the shock that would come if the race were
really lost.</p>
<p>Four days later the two girls found themselves
approaching a small village of log cabins
and long, low-lying buildings. This was Fort
Jarvis. They had made the remainder of the
journey in safety. Leaving their herd some ten
miles from the Fort, where the deer would be
safe, they had tramped in on snowshoes.</p>
<p>Marian found her heart fluttering painfully
as her feet fell in the hard-packed village path.
Had Scarberry been there? Was the race lost?
Had the man of the purple flame been there?
Had he anything to do with the deal?</p>
<p>Twice they asked directions of passing Indians.
At last they knocked at a door. The door swung
open and they found themselves inside a long,
low room. At a table close to an open fire sat
a man in uniform. He rose and bowed as they
came toward him.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_243">[243]</div>
<p>“You—you are the agent for the Canadian
Government?” Marian faltered, addressing the
man in uniform.</p>
<p>The man nodded his head and smiled a little
welcome.</p>
<p>“You wish to buy a reindeer herd?” Marian
asked the question point-blank.</p>
<p>“I believe,” the man answered quietly, “that
I have already agreed to purchase one—”</p>
<p>“You—you—” Marian sank to a chair.
The shock was too much.</p>
<p>“You see, the truth is,” smiled the Major, as
though there had been no interruption, “I believe
I have agreed to purchase your herd.”</p>
<p>“My herd!” exclaimed Marian, unable to
believe her ears. “But how did you know of
my herd—how did you know I was on the way?
Who told you—”</p>
<p>“One question at a time, young lady,” laughed
the Major. “I think I have a number of surprises
for you. As to your first question, I will
say that I have never heard of your herd until
two days ago. That day, two days after the
great storm, a half famished Indian reached
Fort Jarvis, driving a splendid team of white
men’s dogs. They had been hard driven.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_244">[244]</div>
<p>“After we had fed him, he jerkily told us
the story of your race against a man named
Scarberry. He told us of the treatment you had
given him; of your kindnesses to his people.
Then he told of Scarberry. Told how Scarberry’s
herd had been delayed and held up along
the trail, and how he had tried to be of help to
you. Then he told of your battle against the
storm, and how, once you were safely over the
pass, he had driven night and day to reach here.
His hope was to get here ahead of any other
herd and intercede for you. Such loyalty is
not to be denied. And I told him that should
your herd reach here in good shape, that I would
give it preference, even should Scarberry get
here ahead of you. I believe that answers one
of your questions.”</p>
<p>“But how in the world did this Indian know
that the Government had agreed to purchase a
herd?” asked Marian.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_245">[245]</div>
<p>“In the North,” answered the Major, “rumor
flies fast, even over seemingly uninhabited places.
And you may depend upon it that the Indian
will know what is going on; even if he does
have but little to say. Now, to business. I understand
you have brought the herd with you?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” answered Marian, “they are at our
camp about ten miles out.”</p>
<p>“Then we may consider the deal closed.
There remains but to count the deer; to weed
out those that are too old or too weak for the
final drive, then to make out your order on our
Government. We have Lapland herders who
will assist in the work. You may rest here
with us until the count is completed. After that
I will see that you have guides and dog-teams
for the passage south to the rail head.”</p>
<p>“Oh! how wonderful!” exclaimed Patsy, impulsively
leaping to her feet. “But Bill Scarberry,”
she asked suddenly, “did he really win?”</p>
<p>“No,” smiled the Major, “he has not yet been
heard from. So you won the race after all.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_246">[246]</div>
<p>“Good!” exclaimed Patsy, “I could never
have been happy again if we had lost, even if
Marian did sell her herd.”</p>
<p>After a night’s rest at the post, Marian and
Patsy felt like they had come into a new
life. They had lain awake long into the night,
exchanging excited whispers over their good
luck. The next morning, as Marian was passing
down the street, she noticed a dog team. There
was something about the leader that looked familiar.
One glance at the driver brought an
exclamation of surprise to her lips. He was
none other than the Indian she had saved from
starvation, and who in turn had served as her
guardian angel.</p>
<p>“That is the dog team that came to our
rescue in the blizzard,” was her mental comment.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_247">[247]</div>
<p>While she had been told the rest of the story
by the Major, she preferred to have the story
from the man’s own lips. She found him very
reluctant to talk, but after his heart had been
warmed by a splendid meal of boiled reindeer
meat and coffee, he told his story from the
time she had given him three of her reindeer
until the present moment. Shortly after leaving
her, he had come in with some of his own people
who were well fed and prosperous. Knowing
that the girls were headed straight for trouble,
and feeling very grateful to them, he had persuaded
one of these, his kinsmen, to go with
him and to follow the reindeer herd with his
team of white men’s dogs. It had been they
who had driven the wolf-pack away and had
left a rifle and ammunition for the girls. It was
their dog team that had been released from the
sled and had assisted in driving the reindeer
herd over the mountain.</p>
<p>“But why did you do all this?” Marian asked.</p>
<p>The man looked at her for a moment in silence,
then he asked: “Why did you give reindeer?”</p>
<p>“Because you were in need.”</p>
<p>“And you,” a faint smile played across his
face, “you too were in need. Indian all same
white man.”</p>
<p>Then Marian understood, and her heart was
filled with a new love for all those strange people
who inhabit the White Wilderness.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_248">[248]</div>
<p>The next day, Marian and Patsy, together
with the Major and his Lapland herders, went
out to Marian’s camp and there began the business
of sorting and counting the deer. This
work continued for three days, and on the evening
of the third day, leaving the herd in charge
of the Lapland herders, Marian, Patsy and the
Major, together with Terogloona and Attatak,
started for Fort Jarvis by way of deer sled.</p>
<p>Topping a hill some two miles from Fort Jarvis,
they suddenly came upon a tent. Just before
they reached it, the interior became suddenly
lighted with a strange purple flame. Marian
halted her deer with an exclamation of surprise.</p>
<p>“The purple flame!” she gasped, and turning
to the Major said: “I can stand this mystery no
longer. Do you know who is in that tent?”</p>
<p>“Why yes, I think so,” said the Major. “I
think it is Mr. Montgomery, an old prospector.
He is well known throughout the North. Why
do you ask?”</p>
<p>“I want to meet him,” said Marian. “Will
you please come with me to his tent?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_249">[249]</div>
<p>A moment later a hearty old man came to the
door of the tent in response to their call, and
with a cheery smile acknowledged the Major’s
introduction of Marian and Patsy, at once inviting
them in.</p>
<p>Imagine Marian’s surprise, when upon entering
the tent she saw a young girl of about her
own age, seated at a radio sending set. And
there, under the deft fingers of the girl operator,
a crackling purple flash jumped back and forth
across a wide spark gap.</p>
<p>“The girl of the purple flame,” gasped Patsy.</p>
<p>At sound of her voice the girl turned around
and smiled a welcome. Marian turned to Mr.
Montgomery:</p>
<p>“So you are the people of the purple flame.”</p>
<p>“Are we, indeed!” laughed the old Prospector.</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Marian, “and I thought all the
while, back there in Alaska, that you were
dogging our footsteps, and, to speak honestly, we
feared you.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_250">[250]</div>
<p>“Well, well,” laughed the old gentleman. “So
that was your reindeer camp. We thought all
the while that <i>you</i> were dogging <i>our</i> footsteps.”</p>
<p>Then the old prospector launched into a long
story that cleared up the entire mystery of the
purple flame.</p>
<p>It appeared that in his youth he had been
a prospector in Alaska and had found a very
rich vein of gold. Ill health had overtaken him
and he had been forced to return to the States.
Years passed, and fortune and wealth had come
to him, but the lure of searching for gold was
still in his veins, and in the end he had come
again to Alaska, thinking to find his mine. The
years had somewhat dimmed his memory, and he
had searched in vein for the lost mine. Moving
from day to day, he had been just as surprised
to note that Marian’s camp moved with him as
was Marian to discover that his camp moved
with hers. In time he had become suspicious,
fearing that they were dogging his footsteps. He
knew that he had been well known throughout
the North in the past, and he feared that others
knew of his lost mine.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_251">[251]</div>
<p>“And that,” concluded Mr. Montgomery, “is
the reason I never called at your camp.”</p>
<p>“And that radio set,” said Marian, “with its
flash of purple flame, is the reason that I never
called at your camp. There was something so
mysterious about it all.”</p>
<p>The old prospector smiled. “I suppose,” he
said, “that my having a sending and receiving
radio set is a bit strange and perhaps a little
mysterious. Certainly the set is a bit strange,
for to my knowledge there is not another set
like it in the country. It is very compact and
yet most powerful. You see, my interests in the
outside are very extensive, and it is necessary for
me to keep in touch with them. By the use of
this set, I can keep in touch with my agent in
Nome, and he, in turn, can keep in touch with
the States by use of the cable.</p>
<p>“It was the spark of my set, while sending,
that made the purple colored flash which kept you
so mystified. You know, most mysterious things
become quite simple when you find out all about
them.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_252">[252]</div>
<p>“This radio has made it possible for me to
come back and look for my lost mine. It’s the
lure of the thing that draws me, not the desire
for the gold.”</p>
<p>And then it was that Marian, remembering
the treasures that she had found in the cave on
the enchanted mountain, and feeling that she
had something in common with this old prospector,
told him her story.</p>
<p>As she told of the carved ivory, the old man’s
eyes glowed with delight, and in the end he insisted
that he go into Fort Jarvis with them that
he might at least see the piece they had brought
along and hear Terogloona’s story.</p>
<p>At the post old Terogloona, in a halting way,
read the pictured inscription on the four sides.
Other bits of information furnished by Terogloona
convinced the old prospector that Terogloona’s
great-uncle had been his guide in the
days when he was first prospecting and had
found the mine. Mr. Montgomery wanted to set
out at once with Terogloona and Attatak for
the cave on the mountain.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_253">[253]</div>
<p>“Why,” he exclaimed, “that’s very near my
lost mine, for I remember that my old guide,
Terogloona’s great-uncle, spoke of the cave as
a place where we might winter in safety, should
winter come down upon us before we expected
it.”</p>
<p>“How wonderful!” said Marian. “We have
just completed the count and sale of our deer.
Patsy and I are going back to the States, and I
am sure Terogloona and Attatak will go with
you. And you will be in good hands,” she added,
giving both of the faithful servants a glowing
smile.</p>
<p>The sale of the deer was successfully completed.
After a much needed rest, the girls began
the long journey to the “Outside.” So far
were they from the strange cabin of the recluse
musician, they were unable to return for the
treasure they had taken from the mountain cave.</p>
<p>Many months passed, and then one day as the
two girls returned from an afternoon of shopping
in Chicago, Marian found a registered
package awaiting her. From its bulk, and from
the many post-marks upon it, she knew at once
that it contained the long awaited ancient
treasure.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_254">[254]</div>
<p>Her fingers trembled as she undid the many
wrappings. When at last she came to the treasure
she found each piece separately wrapped.
The copper instruments and the old ivory pieces
were just as she had found them, tarnished and
blackened with age.</p>
<p>“But what’s this?” she held up before Patsy’s
astonished eyes a green bowl which gleamed in
the light like a crystal.</p>
<p>“Why!” exclaimed Patsy, as she saw her
cousin unpack another and another and yet another,
“he has thought your old dishes were
useless and has sent you some of his exquisite
glassware instead.”</p>
<p>“How strange!” murmured Marian, ready to
cry with disappointment. She had so hoped to
surprise Mr. Cole, the Curator of the Museum,
with rare pieces of ancient pottery such as had
never before been brought from the Arctic; and
here were only four pieces of glassware. How
they had ever come to be here, she could not
guess; but here they were.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_255">[255]</div>
<p>“Look!” cried Patsy, “What a strange appearance
they have when you hold them to the
light! And see, two of them are blue and two
are a tawny green, like huge cat’s eyes.”</p>
<p>“Wait!” said Marian, “here is a note from
our aged friend.”</p>
<p>She unfolded it and read it aloud:</p>
<p>“Please pardon an old man’s fancy. I could
not resist the temptation of polishing these
up a bit. The very sight of them makes me
envious. They are indeed a rare find. I have
a guess as to what they are made of, but your
friend the Curator will know.”</p>
<p>“So,” exclaimed Patsy, “they are the very
dishes you found in the cave!”</p>
<p>“How very, very strange! We must have
Mr. Cole come over at once,” said Marian, half
beside herself with curiosity.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_256">[256]</div>
<p>She raced to the telephone and a moment later
had the Curator on the wire. If you have read
our other book, “The Cruise of the O’Moo” you
will remember that Marian, with her two friends,
Lucile and Florence had once made a rare find
for the Museum, so you will not wonder that so
great a man should hurry right over in answer
to their call.</p>
<p>When he arrived, Marian placed one of the
bowls in his hand with the single comment:
“From a cave in a mountain in Alaska.”</p>
<p>For three minutes he turned the bowl about
before the light.</p>
<p>“What do you want me to tell you about it?”
There was a strange light in his eye.</p>
<p>“Almost everything!” exclaimed Marian.
“What it’s made of, who made it, how long ago,
how—”</p>
<p>“Wait a bit. Not so fast!” the Curator held
up a hand for silence.</p>
<p>“You should know what it’s made of,” he
smiled. “What was the Blue God made of?”</p>
<p>“Jade.”</p>
<p>“And this.”</p>
<p>“Is that jade, too?”</p>
<p>“Blue and green jade.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_257">[257]</div>
<p>“Then—then the bowls should be valuable.”</p>
<p>“Quite decidedly. As for your other questions,
much more information is needed before
we can know who made them and when. So far
as I know, nothing of this kind has ever before
been discovered. Were there any other pieces?”</p>
<p>Marian held out a handful of ivory pieces.</p>
<p>For ten minutes there was silence in the room,
save for the click of specimens as the Curator
turned them over. Then, turning suddenly, Mr.
Cole put out his hands to the girls.</p>
<p>“I want to congratulate you,” he said, his
eyes gleaming, “upon your good fortune in discovering
the finest collection of specimens ever
brought from Alaska. From its discoloration
this ivory should be at least five hundred years
old. The bowls are doubtless of the same period.
That makes them priceless.”</p>
<p>On hearing these words Marian’s joy knew no
bounds. As for Patsy, her unselfish pleasure
in the success of her cousin was quite as great
as if it had been she who had made the find.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_258">[258]</div>
<p>It was arranged that Mr. Cole should take
charge of the specimens, and should advise
Marian in regard to their disposal.</p>
<p>Marian’s dream came true. She and her
father secured the bungalow, rose bush and all,
and owned it free from debt. There was money
enough left for her education. As for Patsy, she
was glad enough to hurry back to rejoin her
classmates in Louisville, Kentucky.</p>
<p>An unfortunate part of having plenty of
money is that it is likely to shut out from one’s
life the thrills that come with a struggle for an
existence. For the time being Marian’s life lost
most of its thrills.</p>
<p>Not so, however, with her friend, Lucille
Tucker. You will remember her from reading
“The Blue Envelope,” “The Cruise of the
O’Moo” and “The Secret Mark.” Life for her
continued to have thrills a-plenty. Our next
book, “The Crimson Thread,” will have to do
with the adventures which came to her during
a Christmas vacation. If you think that two
weeks’ time can contain but few adventures, this
book will prove that you are mistaken.</p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />