CHAPTER XII.
SHIFTING FOR THEMSELVES.
This was voted a good idea. As they drew closer to the shore theaspect of the little bay became more inviting.
Tom pointed to a strip of beach which bordered a rather deeperindentation on the edge of the inlet.
"I guess that's the place for us to land," he said. "Looks like thereis water there and a good beach."
Wearily--for now that the strain of their wild ride on the tide-ripwas over, they felt exhausted--wearily they pulled on the oars, movingthe heavy dory slowly over the placid waters of the inlet. The sea,its force broken by an outcropping reef across the mouth of theminiature bay, broke gently on the shore, and it was an easy matterto make a landing. The dory was pulled as far up the beach as they intheir tired state could manage, and its painter made fast to a stuntedwillow tree.
The beach, bordered with trees and stunted shrubs, rose upward. Theymounted it and found themselves on a yielding, marshy carpet of moss.It was the tundra of Alaska. It would have made hard walking to crossit, but while they were pondering the advisability of doing so, Tommade a discovery.
"Look! a path!" he exclaimed. "It runs right along here."
He pointed to a beaten path, plainly enough made by human beings,leading along the top of the "sea-wall" between the tundra marsh andthe beach.
"There must be people here. Somebody must have made it."
"Evidently, and look over there, that's the answer."
Tom had followed the path slightly in advance of the others. Now hehad come to a halt, pointing toward a singular structure at somelittle distance, toward which it was clear that the path led. The hutwas shaped like a low beehive and appeared to be built of drift-woodand peat.
"It's a native hut of some sort," declared Jack, rather an alarmedlook coming into his eyes.
The boys' experience with Aleuts had not inclined them to place muchconfidence in the natives, for it will be recalled that our heroesthought that their two boatmen had deliberately left them on thebeach.
"There's no smoke coming from it," said Tom.
"In that case, maybe it is deserted."
"Perhaps so. But we had better be careful."
"That's right, after what we experienced from those two rascals of thepilot's, I'm taking no chances with these people."
Tom did not confide to his chums another bit of information that hehad acquired concerning this part of Alaska from the captain of the_Northerner_. This was that in a part of the country in which theywere cast away, the native tribes are ugly and vicious, never visitinga white settlement except when they must, and refusing to have anyintercourse with Caucasians.
He had heard many tales of the bloodshed and theft attributed to theserenegade natives, and as may be imagined, the thought that perhapsthey had stumbled on a camp of them was not a pleasant one. However,Tom said nothing for fear of unnecessarily scaring his companions. Thelandscape looked wild enough to form the dwelling place of anydesperate natives who, for any reason, wished to evade the UnitedStates revenue cutters and missionary ships.
But the need of water was imperative, and judging by the greaterluxuriance of the trees and grass near the hut, there was water there.In fact, the presence of the hut in that site argued the existence ofwater near by. They watched the solitary structure for some minutes.But no sign of life appeared about it. Seemingly, they were the onlyhuman beings for many miles in that wild country.
"Well, come on," said Tom at length; "anything is better than enduringthis thirst any longer, and I'm pretty sure there must be wateryonder."
They followed the path and soon found themselves on the threshold ofthe hut. Its door, a clumsy contrivance, was ajar, and littered allabout were fish bones, scales, and bones and remnants of animals. Arank odor assailed their nostrils, the true smell of an Aleutsettlement.
Tom strode boldly forward and was about to cross the threshold whensomething dashed out of the hut, making him jump back with aninvoluntary shout of alarm. For a minute he was sure they had beenattacked by whoever dwelt within. His companions, too, echoed his cry,but the next instant they all burst out laughing. What had alarmedthem so was a small red fox that had darted off like a flash.
"That shows us no one is inside," chuckled Tom, turning to hiscomrades. "I guess we've dispossessed the sole inhabitant."
They crossed the threshold and found themselves in a low,smoke-begrimed structure with a dome-shaped roof. In the middle of theroof was a hole presumably for the smoke to escape, although soot hungthick on the rafters that supported the grass-sods, peat and earththat formed the covering of the rude dwelling.
Tom bent and examined a heap of ashes in the middle of the dirt floorunder the hole.
"Nobody has been here for a long time," he declared, "except wildbeasts."
"I wonder who put it up?" inquired Sandy.
"Trappers, maybe; but most likely Aleuts," replied Tom. "I've seenpictures of their huts and they are very like this one. I neverthought we'd have to take up quarters in one, though."
"Hoot! d'ye think we'll have to stay here lang?" asked Sandy.
"Impossible to tell," rejoined Tom. "Of course, as soon as they findwe're gone they will start on a search for us; but unless they findthose rascally Aleuts they'll never know what became of us, unlessthey stumble on us accidentally."
There was a brief but eloquent silence, which Tom dispelled cheerily.
"The first job is to look for water," said he. "Let's explore alittle."
They left the hut, but before they went Tom picked up an old tin pailthat lay on the floor in a corner. He did not explain what he wantedthis for. As he had expected, where the luxuriant growth flourished,was a stream which ran down crystal clear and cold as ice from thesnow mountains to the sea.
The sight of this made the boys forget all their troubles temporarily.They lay flat on their stomachs and drank to repletion. Never hadanything tasted half so good as the waters of that mountain stream.Their thirst quenched, Tom methodically filled his pail with water andthen started back.
"What are you going to do?" demanded Jack in some astonishment.
"Clean out the hut and get ready for supper while you fellows catchsome fish."
"Fish for supper? Where?" demanded Jack.
"Right in this creek. I saw them dart off when we came down, but theywill soon be back."
"How about hooks?"
"I saw some in the bottom of the boat. And by turning over some ofthose stones, I guess you'll find some sort of things that will do forbait. Hurry up now, boys, and while you're getting the tackle, bringthe rest of the grub and the oars out of the boat."
Glad to be busy, the boys all hurried off on their tasks. When Jackand Sandy had brought the oars and tackle from the boat, they set offon their fishing expedition. Long alder limbs broken off from thebushes that overhung the creek, served them for poles. Under therocks, as Tom had surmised, they found fat, white grubs in abundance.The fish bit hungrily, for it was still early in the year. Soon theyeach had a fine string. With lighter hearts, for now they had at leastthe essentials of existence, they set out on the return journey to thehut.
When they got back, they found that Tom had made a fire, using matchesfrom his water-proof box, which none of the boys would have gonewithout. It crackled up cheerily. When he had a good bed of red coals,Tom split the fish which the others had scaled and cleaned, and heldthem on sharpened sticks above the blaze till they were cooked. Withcrackers and the broiled fish they made a rough but sufficient meal.
There was plenty of firewood in the hut and they made a roaring blaze,so that, lacking blankets as they did, they would not get cold. In acorner was a pile of sweet-scented dried grass, evidently used as bedsby whoever had occupied the hut before them. On this they threwthemselves down while the fire glowed cheerily, warming the hutcomfortably since the door had been closed.
Despite the strangeness of their position on this wild, unknown coast,they were too weary to remain awake long. Outside came
occasionallythe cry of a bird or the booming of the sea, but it all acted as alullaby to the three tired boys.
One by one their eyes closed and they dropped off into the deep,dreamless slumber of exhaustion. Never, in fact, had they slept moreprofoundly and peaceably than they did in the smoky native hut on thewild shores upon which they had been so strangely cast away.
The Bungalow Boys Along the Yukon Page 12
