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One day, or rather what corresponded to a day, for they had lost all track of time, Andy Sudds arose from the stone bench on which their meager meal had been served. He started from the restaurant where they had taken up their abode. "Where are you going?" asked Jack. "I'm going to make one last attempt to find the projectile before it gets too dark," answered the hunter.
There were enough of the savage beasts in the rear to make this last impossible. "Come ahead!" yelled Andy Sudds to Phineas Roebach, who guided the second sled. "Don't stop." Jack and Mark, with the old hunter, were on the first sled. They were armed with magazine rifles, and all seized these and prepared to fight for their lives.
"If wolf meat was fit to eat we'd certainly live on the fat of the land," quoth the oil man. "I wouldn't mind meeting a bear savage as that other fellow was," said Andy Sudds. And before they were through with this adventure they saw all the bear meat and that very much alive that the party ever wished to behold. First, however, came Mark's invention.
Sudds was awakened, and his first impulse was to rush to the man's assistance, but he was not sure where to find matches, and it took him such an unconscionable time to dress that by the time he got there Scales was restrained by the arms of his fragile wife who threatened hysterics if he left her. Between love and duty Mr.
"They are good workers, but as superstitious as you can imagine. They are particularly shaky just now, for a number of queer things have happened lately in these parts. There is a volcano somewhere in action we had a storm of ashes a week ago. And night before last there was a positive earth-shock." "You seem like a pretty intelligent man," grunted Andy Sudds, in his blunt way.
"Some one has been tampering with a motor, and it exploded." "Nobody's been around since I've been here," announced Andy Sudds, with a significant glance at his gun. "Maybe it's some ob dem moon-men, what don't laik de idea ob us goin' dere arter dere diamonds," volunteered the colored man. "Perhaps," admitted Jack, with a smile.
Fortunately none of the missing parts was very small and in twenty minutes of close scrutiny every piece was assembled. They did not find the second hand lamp, however. "Now we must hurry back to the professor," Jack urged. "I know he will be dreadfully worried." "Do you notice that it's getting lighter, boys?" remarked Andy Sudds. "I believe you!" cried Mark. "The ash has stopped falling, too."
"He had his faults," said the Reverend Bland Sudds yesterday in a funeral discourse upon the Honorable Richard Turpin "he had his faults, yes, for he was human." But if a man may falter, shall we not forgive to a trombone even a half-note? If Turpin may be respectfully lamented with indulgent hope, shall a hesitating horn be doomed to "the all-sweeping besom of societarian reformation?"
Then Andy Sudds staggered to them. "I've lost my gun!" he ejaculated, with a quaver in his voice that was quite surprising. "And we've lost our lamps; but we'll find 'em, Andy," said Jack Darrow, curiously enough becoming leader of the expedition right then, instead of the man. It wasn't that the old hunter was frightened; merely, he did not know what to do in this emergency.
"If you mean we can't catch that there contraption unless we turn into birds I'll show you that you're mistaken!" cried Andy Sudds. "I guess I have a trick or two up my sleeve," and the old hunter quickly threw open the breech of his gun and inserted a couple of cartridges. He raised the piece to his shoulder and took quick aim. There was a sliver of flame, a puff of smoke and a sharp report.
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