Part 18 (1/2)

”I won't be able to prove a thing without the doc.u.ments,” 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 doc.u.ments 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 doc.u.ments 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.”

They set off for the Graham cabin on the following morning. Barwell Dawson's ankle was now quite well, although he was prudently careful how he used it. It had cleared off rather warm, so the trip was a pleasant one. The boys had with them all the meat they could carry, and also their guns, and wore the snow-shoes Professor Jeffer had loaned them.

On the way Chet asked Barwell Dawson how soon he expected to start for the north.

”I hope to get the _Ice King_ ready by the middle of February or first of March,” was the hunter's reply. ”You see, for such a trip we require an immense amount of stores, and of just the proper kinds. It won't do to take stuff that will freeze and burst open. Once I remember I was up there, and had some bottles of catsup along. The bottles froze and burst, and we had catsup scattered all over the camp.”

”I suppose you can't get much up there?” said Chet.

”Absolutely nothing outside of game--musk oxen, polar bears and hares, seal, walrus, and some birds. In some parts of Greenland you can get moss that you can put in soup, but it doesn't amount to a very hearty meal. In a cold climate like that, one needs to eat plenty of meat, and the more fat, the better. The Esquimaux live on the fattest kind of meat they can get, and on blubber, and they think tallow candles a real delicacy.”

”Excuse me from eating candles,” said Andy.

”If you were real hungry, you'd eat anything,” answered Barwell Dawson, gravely. ”I was once lost on the ice, and was glad enough to chew strips of seal hide to ease the pangs of hunger. When I got back to camp, my stomach was in such a condition that they fed me my first meal very carefully, just a bit at a time. If I had eaten my fill quickly, I might have died.”

CHAPTER XII

A LETTER OF INTEREST

”The place looks shut up,” observed Chet, when the party came in sight of the Graham homestead. ”Not a bit of smoke, and the snow isn't cleared away from the doorstep.”

”Maybe Uncle Si is sick and can't get around,” answered Andy, quickly.

”Sick? Lazy, you mean,” returned his chum.

They advanced to the front door and knocked. There was no sound from within, and Andy walked around to the shed. The door was locked, but the key was on a shelf near by, and he quickly opened the door.

”Uncle Si is away,” he announced, as he walked through the cabin, and let the others come in. ”My! but it's cold here! We'll have to start a fire right away.”