CHAPTER XVII

A KNOTTY PROBLEM

Joe Marion and Jennings were facing a problem. They had returned to their camp after following what they thought was the trail of some other person than Curlie. You will remember that they had discovered the marks of a reindeer which had apparently been tied in the brush. This reindeer, they had concluded, belonged to some herder who had camped in the other clump of willows for the night. It was in fact the very reindeer which Curlie had found tangled in the brush. But this they did not know. And since they did not know it they supposed they had lost all trace of their companion and were more than half convinced that he had been frozen to death in the blizzard.

Now, under the circumstances, what were they to do? They had come a long and dangerous way to capture a man, the air outlaw. To get his man had been Curlie’s constant thought. He was doubtless getting farther and farther from them as the hours passed. They now had meat to last them three or four days. What should they do? Press on as rapidly as they could, leaving Curlie to find their trail and follow if he were still alive, or should they continue the search for him, circling the hills and the tundra with the dogs in the hopes of again picking up his trail?

“Might be still alive but with frozen feet, unable to travel,” suggested Joe.

“Yes, that has happened often in the Arctic!” said Jennings.

“But he has his belt radiophone set,” said Joe thoughtfully. “The air is quiet now. His balloon aerial would work beautifully. Why don’t—”

Suddenly he started. In his eager search for his companion he had neglected the radiophone.

Now he turned his attention to it. Tuning it to 200, their agreed wave length, he listened in while Jennings fried caribou steak.

“That’s a rare treat,” said Jennings as he set his teeth in a juicy morsel. “It’s surprising how you can keep a liking for caribou and reindeer meat. In ’98 we came in four or five thousand strong over the trail from Valdez. We each had sixteen hundred pounds of kit and grub which cost us about four hundred dollars. With that food and the fish and game we got, we lived up here a year and a half. Think of it; a year and a half on a sled load of grub.”

“Did you find much gold?” asked Joe.

“Not many of us did. Most of us went back to the States poorer than when we came. That is, we did as far as money goes, but in other ways we had gained much. We had learned how to live without the white man’s luxuries. We had learned to face danger, hardship and even death with a smile. We had lived hundreds of miles from doctors, drugs and nurses, and yet most of us came out of it, brown, sturdy, hard-muscled, keen of nerve and of mind, ready for anything that life might hand us. That’s the pay men get for daring a wilderness.”

“Sh—”

Joe held up a warning finger. He was getting something out of the air.

He knew at once that it was not Curlie speaking, yet he felt sure it was important. It came from the north.

“Steamship Torrentia. Munson, the explorer, speaking.” Joe thrilled at the sound of that name.

“Torrentia - crushed - by ice,” the voice went on. “Sinking - by - the - bow. Position about - one - thousand - miles - due - north - of - Flaxman - Island. All supplies - unloaded - on floating - ice pans. Shall attempt - pole - by plane. Later - return - by plane - to Flaxman. Must - have - transportation - for thirty - men from - Flaxman. Authorize - any necessary expense.”

The message ended, Joe sat wrapped in deep thought.

“I don’t see how he hopes to get transportation for thirty men from Flaxman Island. That spot, why that’s off the map—all but off the earth. Nobody there. No one near. We can help him some with our dogs if we happen to be there when he arrives but our teams are but a sample of what he needs.”

“Ought to have left dogs and a native or two with his supplies at Flaxman,” said Jennings.

“Yes, but he didn’t.”

“No. That’s the real point.”

“Say!” exclaimed Joe suddenly, “there must be a reindeer herd somewhere near here, otherwise that fellow with the sled deer wouldn’t be wandering around so close.”

“Probably. But you can’t be sure of it. Those little brown folks think a lot of their reindeer. I have known them to trail a deer that had run away in company with wild caribou, for more than five hundred miles. Anyway, it’s worth looking into. If there is a good-sized herd close to us, the Eskimo who owns it will have enough sled deers to bring Munson’s whole party out to civilization. I think we ought to look into that at once.”

“I’d agree with you but for one consideration,” said Joe thoughtfully.

“What’s that?” said Jennings sharply.

“The outlaw.”

“What’s he got to do with it?”

“He’s going north, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Toward Flaxman Island?”

“Probably. But what of that. What little food he and his companion, if he has one, will eat, won’t amount to anything.”

“No, it won’t; not if he stops at that. But as Curlie and I have said to you before, everything goes to indicate that he is sore at Munson; that he’d like to do him an injury. What greater injury could he do him than to load down his sled with supplies from Flaxman Island, then touch a match to the rest? Why, man, the whole thirty of them would starve just as Sir John Franklin’s hundred and fifty men did in that same region two or three generations ago!”

“Yes, if the outlaw’s that kind of a bird.”

“Who knows about that? The only way to find out is to go after him. I think it’s mighty important that we get him and get him quick.”

“Then we’ll have to leave Curlie to make the best of things, to shift for himself?”

“We-l-l,” said Joe, speaking very slowly, “I—I’m not sure what we should do. Let’s leave that discussion until morning.”

“Agreed,” said Jennings as he began unlacing his felt shoes, preparatory to creeping into his sleeping-bag.