First at the North Pole: or, Two Boys in the Arctic Circle

“I suppose it is much colder than here in Maine,” said Chet.

“Yes, although not always. Even in upper Greenland the weather is at times comparatively mild. The worst time is the Long Night, as it is termed. Then, it is not only bitterly cold, but darkness is apt to take the heart out of a fellow. Some men cannot stand the night at all, and nearly go crazy, but I have never been affected that way.”

“Give me a good lamp and I shall not mind it,” said Professor Jeffer. “I would spend the time in profitable reading, or in writing a book or magazine article.”

“When you were up there hunting, did you sail along the Greenland coast?” asked Chet, suddenly.

“Of course.”

“Did you ever meet any whalers?”

“Oh, yes, quite a number. Some of them go north quite a distance. They have to sail many miles to get the right kind of whales.”

“Did you – did you ever meet a whaler named the Betsey Andrews?”

“The Betsey Andrews?” mused Barwell Dawson. “Where was she from?”

“From New Bedford, Captain Jacob Spark.”

“Why, yes, I did. What do you know of her?”

“I don’t know much, excepting that my father sailed on her some years ago, and the vessel has failed to come back – so far as I know.”

“That’s too bad. So far as I can remember, the ship was all right when I saw her. If I remember rightly, however, our captain said he thought she was pretty far north for a whaler.”

“Do you think she was wrecked in a storm?”

“I don’t know. We did have some pretty fierce storms just before I landed to go hunting. I know one storm came up right after a dense fog, and it nearly ran us into a tremendous iceberg.

“Maybe an iceberg sunk the Betsey Andrews,” said Chet, and his voice quivered a little in spite of his effort to control himself.

“Have you made inquiries about the whaler lately?” asked Professor Jeffer. “You know there is a regular record kept of all marine disasters.”

“I didn’t know where to go – or who to write to,” answered Chet. “I hated to bother strangers.”

“But you want to find your father, don’t you?” asked Barwell Dawson.

“Oh, very much!”

“Then we’ll have to look into this matter – when this storm clears away, and we are able to get out of here.”

After that the hunter questioned Chet about his parent, and the youth told him how his father had shipped aboard the whaler. He did not mention that Tolney Greene had disappeared under a cloud, as it did not seem necessary, and Chet wanted to avoid anything that was so unpleasant.

Following this, Barwell Dawson told more of his proposed trip north. Now that he had revealed what was on his mind, he was very enthusiastic, and he communicated a great deal of his enthusiasm to his listeners.

“You must take me along!” cried Professor Jeffer. “I will pay my way – that is, so far as I am able, – and I will promise not to be a hindrance. You’ll certainly want one scientist on your expedition, even though it is not what you might term a scientific expedition.”

“I will give the matter every consideration,” answered Barwell Dawson, “and if I can possibly arrange it, you shall become one of the party.”

“How many will there be?” asked Chet.

“Outside of the captain and the crew, I do not expect to carry more than five or six men. Of course, up in Greenland, I shall hire a number of Esquimaux, to do some hunting for me, and to manage the dogs and sledges.”

Chet said no more just then. But he was wondering if it would aid him to find his father if he should join this expedition to the frozen north.

“I’d be willing to suffer anything – if only I could learn where dad was,” he told Andy, afterwards.

CHAPTER X – BRINGING IN SOME GAME

The snowstorm proved such a heavy one that for three days the party at Professor Jeffer’s cabin were completely stormbound. Once Andy and Chet went out – in an endeavor to bring the dead moose in, but were unable to accomplish their object.

During the time spent at the cabin, the boys became very well acquainted with Barwell Dawson, and found the hunter and explorer a person very much to their liking. Although he was rich and well educated, he did not act as if he considered himself above them. He took a lively interest in all they had to tell, and knew how to “draw them out,” so that, almost before he knew it, Andy had related the details of his troubles with his shiftless Uncle Si and with the mysterious Mr. A. Q. Hopton.

“More than likely that fellow, Hopton, will bear close watching,” said Barwell Dawson. “If he is a sharper – and it looks as if he might be – he will try to swindle both you and your uncle. It was very unwise for your uncle to try to do business with him without seeing a lawyer.”

“Uncle Si wanted to get the money without my knowing it,” answered Andy, bitterly. He was glad to open his heart to somebody who could understand him.

“I believe you – and that is not to your uncle’s credit. You say he is shiftless and lazy?”

“Very – and everybody around here knows it.”

“Then he is not fit to be your guardian.”

“I don’t believe he is, legally. He just said he was going to be, that’s all.”

“Well, that doesn’t make him so,” answered the hunter, with a grim smile.

With Andy he went over the papers the boy had brought from home. They seemed to prove that the lad’s father owned a divided interest in a large tract of timber in the upper portion of Michigan. The papers had evidently been drawn up by somebody who knew very little about legal matters, and the phraseology was highly perplexing. After poring over them for an hour, and asking Professor Jeffer’s advice, Barwell Dawson shook his head slowly.

“I think it is an honest claim, and in your father’s favor,” he said. “But it will take a skillful lawyer to unravel it. Certainly your father bought something, and paid for it, for here are the words, ‘one thousand dollars, the receipt of which from Andrew S. Graham is hereby admitted.’ The writer meant ‘acknowledged,’ but I guess ‘admitted’ is good enough.”

“I was going to take it to a lawyer in Lodgeport.”

“Is he a reliable man, Andy?”

“I don’t know – I suppose so.”

“Well, supposing you let me look into this matter with you? I am in no hurry to get away from these parts, and I feel that you ought to let me do something in return for what you and Chet did for me.”

“I’ll be very glad to have your help, Mr. Dawson – if you can spare the time.”

“I hope the claim proves of value – for I take you to be the kind of a lad who deserves to get along,” said Barwell Dawson, smiling.

During the time spent in the cabin, Barwell Dawson and Professor Jeffer discussed the trip to the far north in many details, and the hunter even traced out an imaginary route on one of the scientist’s maps. Both men were equally enthusiastic, and after Mr. Dawson had asked the professor some more questions about himself, he at last consented that the latter should become one of the exploring party.

“But remember,” he said, impressively; “if you suffer great hardships or lose your life, nobody must blame me.”

“Trust me; no one will be blamed but myself,” answered Professor Jeffer, with equal gravity. Then his face beamed. “It will be a wonderful trip, wonderful! And we shall see so many new things, – make so many interesting discoveries! I shall take along a set of the best instruments available, and make all sorts of observations. Such a record alone will be worth all it costs to get it.”

“I do not doubt it, Professor.”

“And then the fame – think of it, the fame! Why, sir, if we succeed in gaining the North Pole, – or even if we succeed in going above Commander Peary’s highest mark, latitude 87° 6’, – it will be something for the entire civilized world to know.”

“True.”

“From today on I shall go into the hardest kind of training,” continued Professor Jeffer. “I shall fit myself to withstand the most intense hunger and the most intense cold. It is the only way.”

“It is certainly a good idea,” answered Barwell Dawson. “It won’t do to go up north ‘soft,’ as they call it.”

On the morning of the fourth day it cleared, and Andy and Chet decided to go out once more after the moose. Mr. Dawson’s ankle was now well, but he did not want to try walking a long distance on it just yet.

“You can get your game today,” he said, “and we can start for Lodgeport tomorrow. There I’ll see that lawyer for Andy, and then I’ll try to return to my camp back of Moose Ridge, and see what the storm did to it.”

“If you want me to, I’ll go back to the Ridge with you,” said Chet. “I haven’t anything else to do, now that I can’t get work at one of the lumber camps.”

“Very well, I’ll be glad of your company.”

Andy and Chet were soon on their way to where the latter had left the moose. Fortunately they had been able to borrow snow-shoes from Professor Jeffer, who owned several pairs. Both lads knew how to use the articles, and glided over the newly fallen snow with ease.

“Just imagine we were bound for the North Pole!” cried Andy. “Wouldn’t it be great!”

“I’d like to look for my father, Andy,” and Chet’s face clouded.

“Oh, Chet, I’m sorry I spoke – I didn’t want to remind you – ”

“Oh, it’s all right, Andy. If I don’t hear from my father soon, I’d like first-rate to go north with Mr. Dawson’s expedition.”

“I don’t think he’d want to bother with boys.”

“We are not so very young. And both of us know how to rough it – and we are pretty good shots, too.”

“I guess you’ve been thinking about it pretty strongly.”

“Haven’t you?”

“Yes, I have. Mr. Dawson seems to be such a splendid man, the trip ought to be fine, even if the North Pole wasn’t reached.”

“Just my idea. We would do lots of hunting, and riding behind the Esquimaux dogs. Just think of being on a sledge with eight or ten dogs to pull you over the ice and snow!”

“And the thermometer 50° below zero! Don’t forget it is fearfully cold up there.”

“Well, it’s mighty cold here, sometimes. Anyway, I’d like to go – if he’d take me.”

“Same here – but he doesn’t want boys, he wants men, and tough ones, too.”

So the talk ran on, as the boys made their way to the clump of spruces where Chet had had his adventure. At a distance they saw the stick, with the handkerchief, deep in the snow.

“Well, there is your landmark, anyway,” said Andy. “I hope nobody disturbed the game.”

“It looks all right,” answered his chum. “But of course the snow would cover any tracks, even if the game was disturbed.”

With eager hands they uncovered the mound, and soon brought to light the big moose with his wide-spreading antlers.

“Certainly a dandy!” cried Andy, as he surveyed the game. “You can be thankful he didn’t hit you before you reached the tree, Chet. He would have smashed you into a jelly.”

“Well, as it was, he caused Mr. Dawson a bad fall.”

The boys went back to the trees, and after a careful inspection, took a hatchet and cut a long branch for a drag. On this they bound the deer, and then started on the return to Professor Jeffer’s cabin, hauling their load behind them.

It was hard work to make progress through the deep snow, and they had to rest several times to catch their breath.

“I think we had better take the long way around,” said Chet, after half the distance had been covered. “We can’t very well get up the hill this side of the cabin, and, besides, there is a bad gully to cross this side of the brook.”

“You show the way,” answered his chum. “You know these parts a little better than I do.”

By the new route they had to pass through a patch of woods where the snow made the branches of the trees hang low. It was hard work to pass between some of the trees, and once it looked as if they would have to turn back.

“We are earning this meat,” was Andy’s comment, as he paused to pick up the cap that a branch had swept from his head.

“Looks like it,” answered Chet, laconically.

“I guess we should have waited until the weather was better.”

Now, as it chanced, Chet was as tired as Andy, and consequently his quick temper showed itself.

“You didn’t have to come for the moose if you didn’t want to,” he cried, quickly.

“Oh, I’m not complaining, Chet.”

“It’s the same thing.”

“Not at all – and there is no cause for you to get mad about it.”

“Well, then, don’t find fault. I’m pulling as hard on this load as you.”

“I know it. We made a mistake to come this way, I am afraid.”

“Oh, yes, that’s you, – blame that on me, too.” Chet now looked thoroughly angry. “I’ve a good mind to leave the old moose where he is.” And he let go of the branch on which the game rested.

“Chet!”

Andy uttered the name reproachfully, and gazed fearlessly into his chum’s eyes. There was an awkward pause. Then the face of the quick-tempered youth grew red.

“Well, I don’t care – ” he began, and took hold of the drag again.

“Yes, you do care, – and I care, too. We can’t afford to quarrel, and all over nothing. Come on, we’ll get through somehow,” said Andy.

“Guess I said too much,” murmured Chet, and began to haul on the load as if his life depended upon it. “I thought – Oh, Andy, there’s a shot for us!”

The quick-tempered lad, who was equally quick-eyed, stopped and pointed to a tree some distance on their right. Andy saw something move, but could not make out what it was.

“Partridge,” announced his companion, and swung his gun around. “I’m going to take a shot when they go up.”

He glided over the snow, and Andy came behind him. Then up went four partridge with a whirr that would have startled one not accustomed to the sound. Bang! went Chet’s gun, and bang! came the report of Andy’s immediately after. Two of the partridges came fluttering down, while the two others circled around in a helpless, dazed fashion.

“We must get those, too!” cried Chet, and blazed away again, and then Andy took another shot. Down came the game, and the boys glided forward to secure the prizes. The partridges were of good size, and plump, and the lads gazed at them and turned them over in deep satisfaction.

“We’ll prove to Mr. Dawson that we can hunt,” cried Chet. His recent ill humor had completely disappeared.

In getting back to where they had left the moose, Andy struck an icy rock and rolled over and over in the snow. Chet was compelled to laugh, but quickly subsided, thinking his chum might be angry. But though he had hard work to get up and secure the game he had been carrying, Andy retained his peace of mind.

“Fortune of war,” he said, as he dug the loose snow from his clothing. “Birr! but it’s cold.”

“Want to go to the North Pole now?” said Chet, quizzically.

“This minute, if I had the chance,” was the quick reply.

The partridges were tied on top of the moose, and once again the two lads headed for the cabin. Soon they came in sight of the place, and set up a loud whistling, which brought the two men to the door.

“A fine moose!” cried Barwell Dawson. “And fine partridge, too.”

“Don’t you think we are pretty fair hunters?” asked Chet.

“First-class,” returned Mr. Dawson.

CHAPTER XI – A SERIOUS LOSS

Having brought their game around to the shed attached to the cabin, the boys were glad enough to rest before the generous fire, while Professor Jeffer proceeded to cut out some choice moose meat, having been requested by Barwell Dawson to do so.

“The moose is yours,” Mr. Dawson said to the boys. “But I must have at least one steak, although it may be rather tough.”

“You can have as much as you like,” answered Chet. “I don’t think Andy wants it all, and I am sure I don’t.”

Darkness was settling down once more around the cabin, when Andy chanced to think of the papers concerning the land claim in Michigan. He had placed them in an inside pocket of his jacket, and now he inserted his hand to bring them forth, to make certain that they were safe.

“Oh!” he cried, and his heart began to beat wildly.

“What’s the matter?” queried Chet, who was near. “Hurt?”

“The papers!”

“What of them?”

“They are gone!”

“Gone?” repeated Chet, and now Professor Jeffer and Barwell Dawson listened with interest.

“Yes, gone – I can’t find them anywhere.” Andy rapidly went through every pocket in his clothing, and in the overcoat he had hung on a horn. “Yes, they are gone,” he groaned. “Oh, this is the worst luck yet!”

“But they must be somewhere around,” said Barwell Dawson. “Have you any idea where you dropped them?”

“No, although it might have been when I took that tumble in the snow.”

“If you lost ’em there, we ought to go back for ’em right away,” declared Chet. “The wind is rising, and that will drift the snow over ’em.”

A vain search was made around the cabin and the shed, and then, tired as he was, Andy donned his overcoat and cap to go out. Chet did the same.

“Oh, you needn’t mind, Chet,” said Andy.

“I just will mind, Andy. We are going to get those papers back,” was the brisk reply.

“Here, take a lantern,” said Professor Jeffer, and brought forth an acetylene lamp, similar to those used on bicycles. “That ought to help you find the papers,” he added.

In a minute more the two lads had set off through the snow. As Chet had said, the wind was rising, and it often caught the snow up in a mad whirl and hurled it into their faces.

“Phew! this is not so pleasant,” panted Chet, when they paused to catch their breath, having covered about a quarter of the distance to where Andy had fallen. “Takes the wind right out of a chap. But never mind, come on,” he continued, and started on once more.

The rays of the acetylene lamp lit up the way fairly well, and here and there they could see their former trail, although it was growing more indistinct every moment. The wind now whistled through the pines and spruces, – a sound as dismaying as it was lonely.

“Might have brought down some game, with the aid of this lamp,” said Chet, as they trudged forward on their snowshoes.

“I’m not looking for game just now.”

At last they reached what they thought was the spot where Andy had had the fall. So far they had seen no trace of the missing documents. Now they gazed around, much crestfallen. The hollow was completely filled with the drifting snow, and a ridge had formed, wiping out the trail utterly.

“I am going to try digging,” said Andy. “Wish I had brought a shovel along.”

The lamp was hung on the branch of a tree near by, and both youths set to work, shoving and kicking the snow to one side or another. Thus they worked, in something of a circle, for the best part of an hour. Not a trace of the papers could be seen anywhere.

“Maybe I lost them further back – where we found the moose,” said Andy. “I’m going to look. But you needn’t go with me if you don’t care to, Chet.”

“I’ll go where you go, Andy. I want to see you get those papers back.”

Again they moved forward, the wind and snow cutting each in the face, and sometimes almost blinding them. They had to rest twice before they reached the spot of Chet’s thrilling adventure.

Again the search began, and it was kept up until both lads were wellnigh exhausted from stooping over and “sifting” the snow. Andy straightened his back and gave a sigh.

“I guess it’s no use,” he groaned. “They are gone! I’ll never see them again! And that claim is gone, too!”

“Oh, don’t give up yet!” cried Chet, trying to cheer him up. “If we can’t locate them tonight, we’ll do it in the morning when the sun shines. They must be somewhere around. They made quite a package, with a rubber band around it, and such a package can’t vanish completely.”

To this Andy could only answer with a sigh. He doubted very much if the precious documents would ever come to light again.

Utterly fagged out, the boys turned their backs on the wind and made their way to Professor Jeffer’s cabin. Here they found the others anxiously awaiting their return.

“What luck?” sang out Barwell Dawson.

“None,” answered Andy, and dropped into a chair as tired out as he was disheartened.

“You’ll have to go out in the morning.”

“Just what I said,” came from Chet. “Oh, we’ll get those papers back, don’t worry.” But although he spoke thus lightly, it was only to cheer his chum up. He, too, was afraid the documents were gone forever.

Andy’s sleep was a troubled one. He dreamed that his Uncle Si was after him, and that both had a tussle in the snow over the papers. Then A. Q. Hopton came up with a pitchfork, speared the papers, and bore them off in triumph. He awoke to find Chet shaking him.

“Andy, stop your groaning!” Chet was saying. “You are going on to beat the band!”

“I guess I had a nightmare,” answered Andy, sheepishly. “What time is it?”

“Just getting daylight.”

“Then I am going to get up, eat a little breakfast, and start on another search for those papers.”

“Sure – and I’ll go along.”

The boys arose as quietly as possible, and dressing, went to the kitchen and prepared their morning meal of wheat cakes and a small moose steak, and coffee. They were just finishing the repast when Professor Jeffer showed himself.

“Up early, I see,” he said, with a smile.

“We are going to look for those papers again,” explained Chet.

“To be sure. Well, I trust you find them, although I am afraid you will have quite a search.”

The sun was just peering over the trees to the eastward when the two lads left the cabin. It promised to be a clear day. It was intensely cold, and the wind still blew, although not so hard as during the day and the night gone by.

Andy took the lead, and each boy strained his eyes to catch sight of anything that might look like the documents. Once Andy saw something at a distance, and ran to it with a rapidly beating heart. But it was nothing but a strip of birch bark, and again his heart sank.

The noon hour found them still on the hunt. Fortunately they had brought some lunch along in one of the game bags, and they sat down in a sunny and sheltered nook to eat this, warming up a can of coffee over a tiny campfire Chet kindled. Then the hunt was renewed, and kept up in various places until the sun began to go down over the woods to the westward.

“It will be dark in an hour more, Andy,” said Chet, kindly. “I guess we had better return to the cabin. We can come out again tomorrow, if you wish.”

“I – I don’t think it will be any use to come out again, Chet.” Andy’s voice was very unsteady. “I am afraid the papers are gone for good!”

“Oh, I wouldn’t give it up yet!”

“If I only knew where I had dropped them! But I don’t know. They may be right around here, and they may be half a mile away.”

It was with a downcast heart that Andy followed his chum back to the cabin. Somehow, he had hoped that the timber claim would prove a valuable one, and that he would get a goodly share of it. Now that hope was shattered.

“I won’t be able to prove a thing without the documents,” he told himself. “And it would be useless to try.”

That evening the matter was talked over by the men and the boys from every point of view, but nothing came of it. Barwell Dawson agreed with Andy that nothing could be accomplished until the missing documents were brought to light.

“I really think your uncle is to blame for this,” said the hunter. “If he had not acted as he did, you would not have been forced to run away, and then the papers might be safe and sound at your cabin.”

“I’d like to know what became of that A. Q. Hopton,” said Andy.

“Well, he didn’t get the papers, and that’s one comfort,” said Chet, with a sickly grin.

There was now no use in going to Lodgeport to see a lawyer, and instead, Andy and Chet went out again for another search. But this was as useless as the others. Not a trace of the missing documents could be found anywhere.

“Might as well give it up,” sighed Andy. “They are gone, and that is all there is to it.”

Again matters were talked over, and Barwell Dawson advised Andy to go home and face his uncle.

“If you wish, I’ll go with you,” said the hunter. “Perhaps I can get him to tell just what that A. Q. Hopton was up to.”

“I’d like it first-rate, if you would go along, Mr. Dawson,” answered the boy quickly.

“Want me along?” asked Chet.

“You might as well come,” answered Andy. “We can take some of the moose meat. The horns are yours, Chet.”