by Roy J. Snell
CHAPTER XXII A MAD DREAM
It was with a feeling of great astonishment that Curlie, early in theafternoon of the next short Arctic day, came upon the pile of radiophoneinstruments and other articles which had been piled beside the trail byhis companions.
"Now what does this mean?" he said, addressing his reindeer. "Can't bethey've been ambushed and robbed. Things are piled away too carefully forthat."
"Hello!" he exclaimed a moment later, "they've left the trail of theoutlaw! Of all the unbelievable things! What could have induced them todo that? Can't be trying to outflank him. Trail they've taken is a lotlonger than his."
He returned to sit down on the sled and scratch his head.
"Traveling light, they are. I'd never catch them now."
Again he was silent for some time.
"Wish they'd left me a rifle. I'd go after the outlaw single-handed. Butof course they wouldn't. Don't even know I'm alive, let alone on theirtrail with a reindeer. Nothing more improbable than that. Wish I'd riskeda call to them. Didn't dare, though. Outlaw'd know we were after him ifhe listened in. Now what's to be done? Have to see how much radiophonestuff they left behind."
For some time he busied himself sorting out the parts of the heavierradiophone set and connecting them up.
"All here," he breathed at last, "even my little outfit for making mincepie of a fellow's speech then piecing it together again. Joe took all thesmaller set, though. That's good. Best thing I can do is to camp righthere and wait until I'm sure they must be camped for the night. Then I'llsend out a signal and see if I can get them. I can talk mince meatfashion so the outlaw won't know what it's about, anyway. Got to get intouch with them some way or another."
Realizing that after hearing from them he might want to travel at nightto make up for lost time, after tethering out his reindeer he crept intohis sleeping-bag and, in a moment, fell into a sound sleep.
When he awoke it was quite dark. Getting busy at once with hisradiophone, he sent a signal quivering through the air.
He received no response.
A half hour later he sent out a second. Still no answer.
"That's queer! Mighty queer," he murmured. "Still, they may have maderapid time and got in ahead of the outlaw. May be close in, too close torisk an answer. No harm to keep on trying, though."
It will be remembered that Curlie had not listened in on any of themessages sent by the exploring party. As a consequence he was totallyignorant of their plight and unable in any way to account for hiscompanions' sudden change of course.
"Queer business!" he told himself as he prepared to send his thirdsignal. "Mighty queer!"
Every half hour for three hours he sent out the signal. Then, just as hewas about to give it up, his receiver rattled and a succession of short,sharp, meaningless sounds began to pour forth.
"That's Joe!" he smiled delightedly. "Nobody up here can talk thatlanguage. Now we'll know what's what."
His conclusion was correct. It was Joe speaking. When Curlie had decodedthe jumbled message he needed only to signal back an answering O. K. Inshort, concise sentences, Joe had told him all that he needed to know.
"And now," he sat down rather dizzily on his sled, "where does that leaveme? Far as I can see, it leaves me guardian of that food supply until theparty gets in. It's the best I can do. And, unless I miss my guess, it'sgoing to be some job! I'm to be a guard without a gun. And the fellow I'mgoing up against has a gun, probably two or three of them."
After a few moments had elapsed, he spoke again: "Short day's journeynow. No use risking coming upon him in the night. Might as well takeanother snooze and freshen up a bit."
At that he crept into his sleeping-bag once more, but not to sleep atonce. His mind was too full of thoughts for that. The curtain to thecrowded third act of this little drama of life which he had been playingwas, he felt sure, about to rise. What was it to be like? What gun-play,what struggles, what battle of wits would be enacted upon that white andglistening stage with no audience save the stars?
His mind was filled with a thousand questions. Who was the outlaw? Was hethe smuggler chieftain or was he not? What grudge did he hold against thegreat explorer that he would travel all this distance to satisfy it? Ordid he hold a grudge at all? Was he merely coming here to winter insafety? Would he camp by the food depot or would he destroy it? Who washis companion? Or did he have no companion? Had it been he who hadappeared in the mirage or had it not?
Who was the Whisperer? Or was there no Whisperer? If there was such aperson, was that person a girl and was she with the outlaw at the presenttime? If he succeeded in outwitting the outlaw, would he at last meet theWhisperer face to face?
All these and many more questions seething through his brain, kept himfor a long time awake. But at last weariness conquered and he fellasleep.
When, only a few hours later, he awoke, it was with a feeling ofimpending danger. Before he opened his eyes, he could hear the reindeerthrashing about among the willows to which he was tied in a vain attemptto break away. When he opened his eyes it was to stare up at a broad domeof sky which appeared to be all on fire.
"The food depot!" he groaned, leaping to his feet. "It was closer than Ithought. It's gone. Burned!"
"No!" he exclaimed, a second later. "No, it's worse than that!" He puthis hand to his forehead. The next instant, reeling like a drunken man ina delirious dream, he stumbled toward his reindeer.