The Bungalow Boys Along the Yukon by John Henry Goldfrap (red white royal blue txt) 📖

and he intended to give you a good scare."

"Well, he succeeded all right," declared Jack, with conviction, "but I guess I managed to give him as good as he gave me. The way those bidarkas shot around that bend was a caution."

"Do you think there is any chance of their coming back again?" asked Tom. "Because if there is, we might give them a warm reception."

"I hardly think they'll return," said Mr. Dacre. "They were probably on their way to St. Michaels. That raid on our store-room must have been a wind-fall for them."

"Hoot! I'd take a wind-fall oot of them if I had my way," grunted Sandy. "Can't we take the dinghy" (for the Rover carried a small boat), "and get after them?"

"They are probably miles away by this time," said Mr. Chillingworth. "I guess the shot that Jack fired after them gave them considerable to think about. I doubt if they'll be in a hurry to attack another boat."

Supper, cooked on a gasolene stove in a small galley by Tom and Jack, who were quite expert as cooks, was served in the large cabin which did duty as both living and dining room.

Jack announced that his engines were once more in A1 shape, but it was decided that as they were all tired it would be better to remain where they were for the night. By this time the boys had become quite used to going to bed by daylight, although at first it had been a very odd sensation. They were soon asleep, and their elders, after discussing the prospects of the trip for some little time longer, followed the lads' example and sought their cabins. Before long the Yukon Rover was wrapped in slumber and silence, only the swift ripple of the current, as it ran by, breaking the stillness.

It was Tom who first opened his eyes with the indefinable but distinct idea that something was wrong. It was almost dark, so he knew that it must be after midnight. What the trouble he vaguely guessed at could be, he was at an utter loss to determine, but the feeling was so strong that he slipped on some clothes and emerged on deck.

He looked about him for a minute and almost decided that he had been the victim of one of those transient impressions that often come to those abruptly awakened from sleep.

But almost simultaneously with this idea the truth broke sharply upon him like a thunderclap.

"Uncle!" he shouted. "Boys! Wake up! We are drifting down stream!"

The others were awake in an instant, and in all sorts of costumes they crowded out on deck. Jack carried a rifle under the impression that they had been attacked.

"What's the matter?"

"Is it the natives again?"

"Are we attacked?"

These and half a dozen other questions assailed Tom's ears before he was enabled to point out the true state of affairs.

"We are drifting rapidly down the stream," he said. "We must be far from where we tied up."

This was unquestionably the truth. The Yukon Rover was not only drifting on the swift current, but was near the middle of the stream where the tide was more rapid than at the sides. In the deep twilight, which is the far northern night, they could see the low-lying banks slipping by like a moving panorama.

The profound stillness rendered the scene still more impressive as the alarmed party stood thunderstruck on the deck of the castaway steamer.

"What can have happened?" demanded Jack.

"Perhaps the mooring rope broke," suggested Sandy.

"Not likely. It was a brand new one of the best manilla," declared Mr. Dacre. "There is more in this than appears."

"The first thing to do is to get out an anchor before we drift down on a sand-bar," said Mr. Chillingworth.

"Yes, it's a miracle we haven't struck one already," agreed Mr. Dacre.

The boys hustled off to get overboard the heavy spare anchor that the drifting steamer carried on her bow. But as the splash that announced that it was in the stream came to their ears and the rope began to tauten, there was a heavy shock that almost threw them all off their feet.

"Let out more rope!" cried Tom, thinking that the sudden tautening of the anchor rope had caused the shock.

"No need to do that," said Mr. Dacre, "we are anchored hard and fast."

"Where?"

"On a sand-bar."

CHAPTER XIX.

HARD ASHORE.

It was at this juncture that Tom came aft with a rope trailing in his hand. It was the original rope. He had drawn it aboard when he discovered it dangling from the mooring bitts into the water.

"Look at this rope," he cried excitedly. "It was no accident that we went adrift."

"What do you mean?" asked Mr. Dacre.

"That it was cut."

"Cut?"

"Yes."

"How do you know that?"

"All the rope is not here. If it had slipped from the anchor we cast ashore among the rushes, or if the anchor had slipped, it would be."

"Perhaps some animal chewed it."

"We'll soon see that. Who's got a match?"

Tom struck a lucifer. As it flared up, Mr. Dacre took the end of the rope in his hand. A single glance sufficed. The rope had been severed so cleanly that there was no question that it had been done by a sharp knife. No animal's teeth could have made that neat, clean incision.

"Well, what do you think of that?" demanded Tom.

"Who could hae done it?" wondered Sandy.

"I know." Jack interjected the remark with confidence.

"Who?"

"Those natives. That bunch that raided our pantry."

"By Jove, boy, I believe you are right," declared Mr. Chillingworth. "It would be just like one of their tricks."

"Well, here we are, stuck hard and fast," said Mr. Dacre. "I suppose those natives would feel highly gratified if they could see our predicament."

"I guess we ought to be glad that they didn't set the boat on fire," commented Jack indignantly. "I'd like to have a brief interview with them."

As an examination showed that the Yukon Rover was in no particular danger, it was decided to wait till daylight before trying to get her off the bar. In the meantime, Sandy went below and began getting up steam, for he had banked his fires during the sleeping period. The others discussed the situation.

It was plain that they had drifted some distance, though how far they had, of course, no means of estimating. Although no actual harm had been done, they naturally felt incensed against the natives, who they were certain had played the scurvy trick on them. Had the wily old chief and his followers happened along just then, they would have met with a warm reception. Perhaps it was just as well that they did not.

After hot coffee had been served out, all hands went to work with a will to release the steamer from her sandy bed. But this proved to be no easy task. It had been hoped that she could be got off under her own power by dint of utilizing the stern wheel. But the blades of the wheel were stuck in the sand, and to have tried to work them might have crippled the ship permanently.

Another plan, therefore, was adopted. The boys got out the small boat and taking the anchor on board carried it some distance up the stream. Then they returned to the ship and began heaving with might and main on the cable, using the small capstan to do this. A cheer went up when, after about half an hour of back-breaking work, they felt the Yukon Rover give a quiver and move about an inch.

"Hurrah, boys! Keep it up! We'll soon be afloat!" cried Tom cheerfully.

Sure enough, as they worked they got the vessel further and further off the sand-bank and at last had the satisfaction of feeling her floating free. As soon as this happened, the engine was started and the steamer began bucking the current once more. The anchor was hoisted as the Yukon Rover came "up on it" and the voyage, which had been so mischievously interrupted, was resumed with great cheerfulness. About ten miles up the river they came to the spot where they had anchored the night before. The steamer was stopped and the boys went ashore to investigate. On the banks were the tell-tale marks of the keels of the bidarkas and numerous footmarks around them. The anchor was found undisturbed, with about ten feet of rope attached to it, and was brought back on board.

The resumption of the journey found them still traversing much the same kind of country as that they had hitherto steamed through. Low banks, thickly grown with alders and other water-loving trees, islands covered with willows, sand-bars and sluggish, outbranching sloughs innumerable.

These willow islands formed troublesome obstructions to navigation. But the outcropping willows at least served one useful purpose. They indicated the presence of sand-bars which, in some instances, lay several feet beneath the surface of water at the high stage of the river. It was not till some days later, during which time they had steadily bucked the current, only tying up for sleep, that the character of the scenery began to change and the boys felt that they were really getting into a wild country at last.

The flat banks and occasional small towns with remnants of Russian forts and occupancy about them, had been left behind. Now the banks shot up steeply above the swift current, and the Yukon Rover was called upon to test her power against the full strength of the stream.

One night,—of course, it was not dark, but "rest time,"—the travelers tied up on the north bank of the stream under a particularly precipitous mass of cliff. It towered above them like the side wall of a skyscraper. Mr. Dacre, who examined it, declared that it had once been a glacier, and there were still traces of glacial action visible upon it. The ground thereabouts was also rich in fossils and the boys obtained permission to go ashore and collect a few of these last.

They set off in high spirits, landing by the long gangplank which the Yukon Rover carried for such purposes. Shouting and laughing they made their way up through the woods till they had clambered to quite a height. All their pockets were bulging with specimens of rock formation, many of them very curious.

"Let's go over to the edge of that glacier," said Sandy, "and hae a look doon on the river. It must be a grand sight."

Nothing loath, they struck off over the rough ground under the larch and pine trees, and soon found themselves at the edge of the sharp acclivity, which had been ground almost to the smoothness of a board by a mighty glacier centuries before. They had not climbed so far above the river as they had imagined from the laboriousness of the ascent. In fact, they were surprised to find that far from being at the top of the glacier, hundreds of feet of its extent still towered above them.

Below lay the Yukon Rover tied to the bank, with the smoke wisping lazily from her funnel. Mr. Dacre and his partner sat out on deck reading. It was a peaceful scene, the silence broken only by the voice of the river as its mighty current hastened down to the sea. All at once though, the calm of the scene was rudely scattered by a loud yell from Sandy.

The Scotch lad had been amusing himself by throwing rocks down the smooth incline of the glacier, which sloped right down into the river, and watching them vanish in the current.

In the course of this amusement he had climbed up on the edge of the treacherously smooth rock chute, which was practically what