CHAPTER XXV.--VOICES FROM THE WILDERNESS.

But Long Jim had not falsified. The valley proved, indeed, to be more even than he described, for as the world now knows important mineral deposits were discovered, including gold, silver, copper, coal, iron and oil. But of the development going on to bring not only this marvelous region but the vast oil region beyond the Coppermine into the world's resources naught need be said now. Suffice it to say that such development is under way, for Mr. Hampton had the ear of the great financiers, and was able to bring it about; and also that Farrell and Long Jim are receiving handsome incomes from their shares in the various projects.

Here the party settled down, constructed huts, and prepared to await the coming of Spring when the snow should disappear from the vast wilderness separating them from the northern edge of the civilized lands and the ice in the rivers be unlocked.

One of the first things done by the boys was to erect their radio plant, and they succeeded without much difficulty in opening communication with the little Fort of the Northwest Mounted Police on the farthest rim of the settled country. MacDonald and Dick, with their prisoners, had arrived only a day or two before communication was opened, and the two parties exchanged the stories of their adventures by radio.

To Long Jim the radio was as great a source of wonder as Long Jim's valley was to the boys. He could never get over marveling at it, and every time that it was brought into use, Long Jim, if he were in the vicinity, was on hand, sitting in rapt and open-mouthed astonishment while the boys operated the instruments.

Much time was spent in exploring this wonderful valley, at the resources of which Mr. Hampton could never express sufficient astonishment.

"It is a freak of nature, of course, boys," he explained on one occasion.

"How wonderful that it should have remained undiscovered for so long," said Jack.

"Not so marvelous," said his father. "Few, indeed, are the people who ever have penetrated any distance into all this vast wilderness of northern Canada. It was supposed, and still is generally supposed, to be bleak and uninhabitable. You know from experience that the contrary is the case. It is delightful country in Summer, and man is so constituted that, if properly clothed and housed, he can stand any severity of Winter. Some day, I predict, all this vast wilderness through which we have been making our way will be settled. That day is far off, of course, but it is coming. The growth of world population will force the conquest of the sub-Arctic."

The one thing making their stay in this valley of marvels unpleasant was the constant rainfall. For in the Arctic storm succeeds storm, sweeping down from the North Pole in never-ending succession. And these storms which they knew were burying the land beyond the valley under a pall of ice and snow poured torrents of water on them. The peaks of the mountain ranges rimming the valley were buried under snow, gleaming wan in the occasional moonlight between the storms, for by now the long night had come. But on them no snow fell, for as Long Jim had foretold the snow as it passed through the temperate air created by the eternally hot rivers and springs was transformed into rain.

Two events of importance marked their stay. One was the escape of their prisoners, together with some rifles which they succeeded in stealing. Pursuit in the darkness, and through the jungle-like reaches of the forest was almost hopeless and was quickly abandoned. Nor, although vigilant watch was kept to prevent surprise, did they ever see sign of the half-breeds again.

"It's a big valley," said Mr. Hampton, "and I doubt whether they will attempt to attack us. Rather, they will keep out of our way. They are poorly armed and inferior in numbers, since we have all come together. Their escape, I imagine, was incited by a fear of what awaited them if we succeeded in getting them back to civilization and the courts. Well," he said, with a sigh, "I regret, of course, the loss of witnesses to substantiate the charges of deviltry which I shall surely bring against Grimm. Nevertheless, I am glad to be rid of them."

It was a sentiment in which all concurred.

The other event referred to was the opening by means of relayed messages via the Mounted Post and Edmonton of communication by radio with Mr. Temple in faraway New York. When word reached Bob's father that the Hampton party was safe and sound and wintering in the wilderness, he quit work for the day, despite the fact that a big business deal was clamoring for his attention, and sped by motor down to his Long Island home.

Bob's sister, Della, was sitting in the library, staring spiritlessly out at the Winter landscape. Mr. Temple stole up behind her and, reaching over her shoulder, thrust the message from the radio corporation under her eyes.

Della's glance fell and she began to read the printed words. Then she leaped up, whirled around, her eyes like two stars, and threw her arms around her father's neck.

"Oh, Daddy, Dad-dee," she screamed.

He held her off at arm's length and looked at her. Her eyes began to fill up with happy tears, and once more she threw herself into his arms.

"Well, kiddy, cry all you want to," he said, comfortingly, patting her on the back. "I guess that's the medicine you needed. You'll be all right now."

Mr. Temple's words bore reference to the fact that for months Della's health had been failing, and she had shown so little interest in her studies that it had been considered wiser to take her out of the boarding school which she attended, and bring her home.

"Oh, yes, Dad-dee," she sobbed, her face buried in his coat. "I'll be all right now."

Then she lifted her tear-stained cheeks and asked anxiously:

"It says they are all safe--_all_? Doesn't it?"

Mr. Temple nodded, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"Yes, kiddy," he said. "Frank's safe, too."

"Oh, Dad-dee, I didn't mean that," said Della, blushing furiously.

"No need to fib to me, kiddy," said her father. "Bob is only a brother; but Frank----"

"No, you shan't say it," laughed Della, and she placed a hand over his mouth.

Nevertheless, it was to be noted that from that time on Della no longer moped and looked ill, but took an intense interest in all the daily affairs of life, even wanting to return at once to school.

"Marjie Faulkner will be dying to talk things over with me," she explained to her mother.

"Why, dear, what do you mean?"

"Well--you know--she's sweet on Bob."

"Oh, you girls," said Mrs. Temple, with a sigh. "You'll be the death of me. At your age----"

"At our age you were engaged to Father," said Della. "Now don't deny it. Dad has even told me how you planned to elope, but were overheard by your mother who persuaded you to be conventional and have a wedding at home."

Mr. Temple looked across the dinner table at his wife and grinned shamelessly.

"George, did you tell her that?"

"Why not? It was the truth."

"Oh, George. Aren't children nowadays hard enough to handle as it is, without letting them know how silly we older people were once?"

"Now, Mother," said Della, rising quickly and going to her mother's side, and kissing her. "Don't scold Father. Can't you see he's dreaming of that day again?"

And dancing to her father's side, Della dropped a kiss on the spot where his hair was thinning out, and then danced gaily from the dining-room.

Once more Mr. Temple grinned at his wife, as he sipped his coffee. Then putting down the cup, he leaned forward and said confidentially:

"You do remember that time, don't you, dear?"

Mrs. Temple started to say something sharp by way of reproof for his silliness, but a softened look came into her eyes as she stared back. The years that intervened since their youth seemed to slip away.

"Why, George," she said. "You look positively handsome."

As for Della, a telegram to her friend, Marjorie Faulkner, apprised the latter of the message from the Far North to the effect that the lost had been found. And Della soon followed her message in person. Thereafter the two girls were never tired of talking about the possible adventures that had befallen the boys, and while Marjorie sang Bob's praises, Della sang Frank's. Poor Jack, it is to be feared, was somewhat slighted in these discussions.

"I'll warrant you that Bob saved the day for them all," Marjorie said on one occasion. "He's so big and strong."

"Well," flashed Della, "Bob's my brother, and that's all right. But if they ever got in a tight pinch, I'm _sure_ it was Frank that got them out. He's got more brains than all the rest put together."

"Oh, Della, how can you say that?" cried Marjorie.

"Well, just because Bob is my brother must I be always praising him?" demanded Della.

For a moment the two girls positively glared at each other.

Then the twinkle began to come, and they laughed.

Then they were hugging each other.

And then they were at it again.