It was many minutes before he was calm enough to tell them the simple truth of the matter, which was, of course, that the wireless message was that one sent by the Doctor on the Aleutian Islands, telling of his intended journey Northward; also that this same doctor was a hated rival explorer, whom he had beaten a few years before; that he had not intended going North at this time, but this action of his rival made it imperative that he do so now. Finally, that the trading gasoline schooner, Gussie Brown, was frozen in the ice three hundred miles north of Conjurer"s Bay and Great Bear Lake, and had an ample supply of gasoline.
"But after all, I guess we"re beaten," said the Major wearily. "If we succeed in getting out of this sc.r.a.pe alive we"ll be fortunate."
"Cheer up! The worst is yet to come," smiled Barney. "Let"s turn in."
Two interesting problems awaited the party in the morning. Was the man who had been accidentally shot the night before the anarchist trader? If so, who was the person whose bones lay in the ruins? Was the infernal-machine a genuine affair, and if so, would it explode? While the Major was still brooding over his disappointment, the boys were so eager for these investigations that they quite forgot the affair of the wireless message.
The ident.i.ty of the dead man was soon established by papers found in his pockets. He was the trader. The skull found in the ruins was unmistakably that of an Indian. A break in this skull showed that the person had died a violent death and had not been caught by the fire. The conclusion the boys arrived at was that the trader had killed the Indian and had fled to the woods. The Indians in revenge had burned his trading station. That he had intended to destroy the explorers was beyond question. He had, therefore, met a well-deserved fate. His body was buried, Eskimo-style, on top of the ground, with stones piled over it to protect it from wolves.
When this work had been completed, the two boys took the infernal-machine down to the frozen surface of the lake where there could be no danger from an explosion, and connected it with wires which they laid along the surface from the steep, snow-buried sh.o.r.e.
"Must be twenty feet of snow in there!" exclaimed Bruce, as for the third time he lost his footing and slid to the bottom of the slope.
Presently they were well behind the ridge in the forest, and out of range of any flying splinters of machine or ice.
"I feel as I used to when I was a schoolboy, and hid with the rest of the gang out in the woods and shot off charges of gunpowder in a gas-pipe bomb," grinned Barney, as he screwed one wire to a post of a battery.
"Now we"ll--" he exclaimed breathlessly.
His last word was lost in the roar of a tremendous explosion. The sh.o.r.es of the bay took up the sound and sent it echoing and reechoing through the forest. Fine bits of ice came rattling down through the trees, while a great cloud of smoke and mist floated lazily over their heads.
"Whew! Some explosion!" murmured Barney.
Bruce was silent. His face was white.
"What"s up?" asked Barney.
"Nothing. I"m all right," Bruce smiled grimly. "I was only thinking what might have happened yesterday."
"Forget it," grumbled Barney. "C"mon, let"s see the ruins."
"Fish!" exclaimed Bruce, as they emerged from the forest. And a.s.suredly there were fish in abundance. The thirty-foot wide pool, from which the ice had been blown, was white with them. There were salmon, salmon-trout, white-fish, lake-trout, flounders, and others the boys did not know.
Hundreds and hundreds of them, stunned by the explosion, floated on the surface only waiting to be harvested.
"We"ll have to work carefully," said Barney, starting forward. "The ice is pretty well shattered. A plunge in that water, and the temperature at thirty below, wouldn"t be pleasant, but I believe we can save every one of them. Get a pole." He began cutting a large branch from a spruce tree.
Bruce followed his example.
"Now!" Barney exclaimed, preparing to slide down the bank. But he paused in surprise. The snow-bank, shattered by the blast, had gone tumbling down to the surface of the lake. And what was that protruding above what remained of the snow? It was dark and V-shaped, like the gable of a roof.
Barney was for investigating at once, but Bruce was more practical; the fish must be secured immediately. This food might yet stand between them and starvation.
They were soon whipping the pool with their poles, and, as the fish came to the ice edge, they gathered them in. Some were monsters, two or three feet in length. It was, indeed, a great haul. They piled them on the ice like cord-wood. Already they were freezing; they would remain fresh for months.
CHAPTER VI
THE RACE IS ON
"And now for the lakeside secret," exclaimed Barney, tossing the last fish upon the pile, and throwing his frosty pole aside.
Eagerly Bruce sprang to his feet. Together they raced around the pool.
Clambering over the tumbled avalanches of snow, they were soon within sight of the strange triangle. Barney"s heart beat fast. What was it?
Could it be only a bit of bent timber lodged there on the log-roof of a long-abandoned Indian shack? Or was it--was it what he knew Bruce hoped it might be--a supply-house for gasoline, or perhaps a motor-boat with a supply of gasoline on board?
Excitedly they attacked the piles of snow. Lacking shovels, they worked with hands and feet. Hope grew with every kick and scoop. This was no mere bit of timber, nor yet an abandoned shack; it was too recently built to leave a doubt about that. And now they had reached the top of the door.
"I say we"ve found it," panted Bruce, redoubling his efforts.
"Wait. Don"t hope too much," gasped Barney, tossing aside snow like a dog burrowing for a rabbit.
The door had a spring padlock on it. Barney, hurrying to the lake for some pieces of ice, cracked the lock as he would a nut between stones.
Then, prying the door open a bit at the top, he tried to peer in.
"Dark," he muttered. "Can"t see a thing."
Breathlessly they resumed work.
And now the door was free to the very bottom. It was Bruce"s turn.
Forcing the door open a foot, he took one good look, then let out a whoop.
"Gasoline!" he shouted. "Bedons of it!"
"May be empty," suggested Barney.
"I"ll see," said Bruce. An instant more, and having crowded himself through the narrow s.p.a.ce, he struck a hundred-gallon steel bedon with his fist. No hollow sound came from it.
"Full," he exclaimed, and, the strain over, sank to the floor with a sigh of relief.
The more hardy Barney began to explore the place. To the back was a small gasoline launch, apparently in perfect condition. Ranged along the right wall were the bedons, five of them, all full but one, and each containing a hundred gallons.
"Well," said Barney, sitting on a bedon, and kicking his heels against its steel side, "now we can take the Major to the moon, or any other did place he wishes to go; that is, if we want to."
For a long time Bruce was silent. Now that the excitement was over he realized he was homesick. Then, too, the dangers of yesterday had shaken his nerves. He was thinking, also, of La Vaune working her way through the academy when money, much money, belonging to her lay idle; and of Timmie, who awaited their return to a.s.sist him in the retrieving of his good name. But there came the after-thought: had it not been for the Major"s trust in him and in Barney, none of these things would have been possible. Yes, they owed a debt to the Major and that debt must be paid.
"And I guess we want to take him where he wants to go," said he, straightening up as he looked his friend in the eye.
"Good!" exclaimed Barney. "I was going to leave it to you, but I knew you"d do it. It"s the chance of our lives. I"m sure he means the Pole--the North Pole! Think of it! And, then, there"s the reward!"
"Guess we"d better squeeze out of here and go break the glad news," said Bruce, "He"s up there fairly eating his heart out."
"The race is on," muttered Barney, as they hurried up the bank.
"The race is on," echoed the Major, a few minutes later, as he walked the floor in high glee.
"Yes, sir, it is," said Barney, "and a good clean race it will be if Dave Tower is skipper of that submarine. I never knew a squarer fellow."