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"He's coming down the hill to meet us." "Are are we too late?" Lucile faltered as he reached their side. "About six hours, I should say," Phi grinned. "Six hours?" "His nibs, the old Chukche guide, left for Cape Prince of Wales and all suburban points some six hours ago. Some one offered him more money than I did. I have a fancy it was your friend, the bearded miner who wanted my mail."
At sight of it a smile spread over Ad-loo-at's face. "Ch k!" he chuckled. "You must take it back," Lucile demanded. The boy threw back his head and laughed boisterously. "It is a charm," he said. "Can one Chukche take back a charm? It will keep you what you say? safe, yes. Me, I have this." He held up his lance. "But you must," urged Marian in turn. "Must hear you that, reindeer. Heya! let us go!"
Only an old Chukche woman sat in the corner, chewing and sewing at a skin boot sole. Johnny hesitated. Had he mistaken the igloo? Had the Russian purposely misled him? He was beginning to think so, when his eye caught the end of a sleeping bag protruding from a pile of deer skins. This he instantly recognized as belonging to the Russian. "Evidently our friend is out.
For a time he sat in deep thought. As he weighed the probabilities for and against this theory, he found himself doubting. There might be many knives of this pattern. The knife might have been stolen from him by the Chukche, or the Russian might have given it to the native as a reward for service, having no idea to what deadly purposes it would be put.
They looked on in silent awe. It was with the greatest difficulty that Jarvis succeeded in finding one of them who was able to speak the Chukche language of Behring Strait, a language that was understood by Azazruk, the Eskimo. When, at last, he did find a man who knew Chukche and who was not too frightened to talk, he plied him with many questions.
Then he drew the two knives also from his belt; the one he had secured at the time of the street fight in Vladivostok, the other had belonged to the Chukche who had attacked him. For the twentieth time he noted that they were exactly alike, blade forging, hilt carving, and all. And again, this realization set him to speculating. How had this brace of knives got so widely separated?
"Well, one thing is sure," Johnny observed, "the Chukche reindeer herders have not come. It was not they who did it." "No," answered the Jap girl. "Say!" exclaimed Johnny, in a tone more severe than he had ever used with his companion, "why in thunder can't we get out of this hole? What are we sticking here for?" "Can't tell." The girl wrung her hands again. "Can't tell. Can't go, that's all.
All ears were alert to every note of the chant. Great was the Chukche who learned some new chant, introduced some unfamiliar dance. Great would he be who remembered this song and dance when this woman was dead. The tones of the singer became more distinct, her voice rose and fell. Her feet began to move, slowly at first, then rapidly and yet more rapidly.
Perhaps our friend the Russian is not so far wrong after all if he's a communist." "Uh-hu," the Jap grunted; then he exclaimed, "That reminds me, Terogloona, the Chukche who lives three doors from here, asked me to tell you to stay out of his igloo this afternoon." "Why?" The Jap merely shrugged his shoulders.
This really being the signal for greater speed, the deer had bolted across the tundra, at last spilling Johnny and his load of Chukche plunder over a cutbank. This procedure did not please the Chukches, and Johnny was not given a second opportunity to drive.
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