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The boy locked the door, then led his companion up a steep slope until they were on a low point commanding a view of the village below and a rocky cliff above. "See that cliff?" asked Iyok-ok. "Plenty of gold there. Pick it out with your pen knife. Rich! Too rich." "Then this Peninsula is as rich as Alaska?" "Alaska?" Iyok-ok grinned. "Alaska? What shall I say? Alaska, it is a joke.
As the result of it he did not sleep for three hours after he had let down the deer skin curtain to his sleeping compartment. "Hanada! Hanada?" he kept repeating to himself. "Of all the Japs in all the world! To meet him here! And not to have known him. It's preposterous." Johnny had gone to the igloo now occupied by Iyok-ok.
And yet, he was not certain the man had them now. He had seen them but once, and that in the disguise shop. Further thoughts were cut short by a head thrust in at the flap of the igloo. It was Iyok-ok. "Go soon," he smiled. "Mebby two hours." "North?" "All right." The head disappeared. "Well, anyway, my seal oil bath did some good," Johnny remarked to himself.
Azeezruk nucky, that's all." He paused and looked away at the hills; then turning, extended his hand. "Anyway, I thank you very, very much I thank you." With that they made their way toward the village and the sea, which, packed and glistening with ice, reflected all the glories of the gorgeous Arctic sunset. Three hours later Iyok-ok put his head in at Johnny's igloo and said: "One hour go."
"Oh, nothing," he growled, and turned away. Two hours later Johnny was lying on the flat ledge of the rocky cliff from which the harpoon had been dropped. He was, however, a hundred feet or more down toward the bay. He was watching a certain igloo, and at the same time keeping an eye on the shore ice. Iyok-ok had gone seal hunting.
Johnny asked, turning an inquiring eye on Iyok-ok, whom Johnny now strongly suspected of being a Japanese and a member of the Mikado's secret service as well. "Which mine?" Iyok-ok smiled good-naturedly as he blinked in the sunlight. It was the morning after Johnny's battle with the Russian. "Are there others?" "Seven mines." "Seven! And all of them rich as the one we were in yesterday?"
But that was quite enough. Iyok-ok was dressed in a suit of purple pajamas and was turned half about in such a manner that Johnny had seen his right shoulder. On it was a three-cornered, jagged scar. This scar had told the story. The boy was not an Eskimo but a Jap masquerading as an Eskimo.
Shortly after darkness had fallen, Johnny was seated cross-legged on a deer skin, staring gloomily at the ragged hole left by the whale harpoon bomb. He had not yet seen Iyok-ok. He was trying now to unravel some of the mysteries which the happenings of the day had served only to tangle more terribly.
"Who are 'they'?" asked Johnny with curiosity fully aroused. "American. I know. Can't tell. Worked for them once. Promise never tell." Johnny wrinkled his brow but did not press the matter. "But this Russia, the Kamchatkan Peninsula?" Iyok-ok continued. "Whom does it belong to now? Can you tell me that?" Johnny shook his head. "Neither can They tell.
He had hardly spoken the words when a body hurled itself upon him, knocking the revolver from his hand and extinguishing the light. "So. There are others! Let them come," roared Johnny, striking out with his right in the dark. "Azeezruk nucky." To his astonishment he recognized the voice of Iyok-ok.
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