Part 18 (1/2)

”_ Some_ night and _some_ game!” murmured Rainey, as they emerged from the tent.

When the men in native garb, who had stolen the submarine, lifted the hatch to take an observation, they were utterly unaware of the presence of two figures crouching behind the conning-tower. This, in spite of the fact that the men wore their long knives strapped to their waists, gave Dave and the engineer a decided advantage--an advantage they were not slow to make the most of.

Fortunately, the robbers crowded up the hatchway, all eager to catch a first view of the reputed gold valley, in which lay the treasure city.

As the third head peeped above the hatch, Jarvis sprang at them. Swinging his ice-anchor, an ugly cudgel of bent iron with a chilled steel point, he sent two of the villains sprawling at a single blow. Meanwhile, Dave, who had grappled with the third man, made a misstep and together they plunged down the hatchway. His opponent landed full on Dave's stomach, and so crushed the breath from him that for a second the lad could not move. But instantly, he realized that he must act. The man was attempting to draw his long knife. Thrusting out a hand, Dave gripped the point of the blade in its soft leather sheath so tightly that it could not be withdrawn.

Struggling with every ounce of strength, the two men were rolling over and over on the deck. The stranger was heavier and evidently older than Dave, but the American had one advantage. He was dressed only in woolens.

The heavy skin clothing of his antagonist hampered his action. In spite of this, Dave felt himself losing out in the battle. The stranger's hand was gripping closer and closer to his throat, and he felt his own hand losing its hold on the knife-blade, when he heard a welcome roar from the hatchway. It was Jarvis. With one leap he was at Dave's side. For an old man, he was surprisingly quick. Yet, he was not too quick, for the murderous knife was swinging above Dave's chest and a hand was at his throat, when Jarvis clove the a.s.sailant's skull with his ice-anchor.

With a groan the man collapsed. The knife clattered to the deck. Jarvis dropped to the floor panting.

”Are you hurt?” he gasped.

”No! Are you?”

”Not a scratch. Some jolly little weapon, them ice-h'anchors. H'I'll wear one of 'em h'in me belt from now on! H'I 'ates t' think 'ow cold th'

water was when h'I pitched 'em h'in, them other two.”

”Kill 'em?”

”Not that bad. But mebby they'll drown. H'I'll go see. H'I'd 'ate t' see 'em climbin' back.”

He hurried up the hatchway, followed closely by Dave.

Not a sign of the two men was to be seen, either on the submarine, in the water or on the solid sh.o.r.e-ice, a few rods away.

”What d' y' think of that?” asked Jarvis, mopping his brow. ”They're gone!”

”Perhaps they drowned.”

”Mebbe drowned--mebby they're 'id h'in th' h'ice.”

”Well, anyway, we're rid of them,” said Dave. ”We'll sew the dead one up in a blanket and throw him overboard; then we'll be going back. Think how all fussed up the Doctor will be.” The boy chuckled.

”Going back?” Jarvis stared, as if unable to believe his ears. ”Going back? And the treasure city within peep of h'our h'eyes. Going back, did y' say? H'I 'ates t' think 'ow rich we'll be, you an' me.”

The sun was setting behind the dark line of timber. Some object at a point where the timber ended and the tundra began cast back the sunlight with a golden glow.

”D' y' see it, lad?” exclaimed the excited old man. ”D'y'see it?

H'it's gold.”

CHAPTER XII

THE RUSSIAN TIGER