CHAPTER XV

ANOTHER MISHAP

As it drew still nearer to twilight, the boys grew more and more uneasy about Case, until at last Ike got out the rifle and fired four shots in quick succession, the distress signal they had agreed upon, but there was no response.

"I'm going to go ashore and look for him," Clay announced. "Turn on the prow light and signal with the rifle every half hour. I cannot understand what trouble Case has got into--but he has sure got into trouble of some kind."

"I'll go with you." Ike offered eagerly, but Clay shook his head decidedly. "No, I am much taller and can travel faster than you. Besides, some one had ought to stay by the boat and keep watch. This is a strange country to us and we don't know what danger may be around us, and then it needs some one to look after Alex. He is pretty weak yet."

"I'll stay then, Clay," said Ike willingly.

"Good, so long," said Clay, as he plunged into the group of cottonwoods.

Ike got out his automatic and paroled the deck back and forth with a delicious sense of his responsibility as defender of the _Rambler_ and her sick crew of one. Occasionally he relaxed his vigilance long enough to dart down into the cabin to see if the meal was keeping warm and also to take a look at Alex, who was snoring peacefully in his bunk. As the minutes went on, however, his anxiety over his comrades, more than overcame the novelty of his position. Not a sound came from the cottonwood thicket. The only noise that came to his ears was the soft murmur of the flowing river as it lapped the stones of the shore. At the end of the half hour, he brought out the rifle and fired the four quick shots. He was delighted to hear in return the sharp crack of Clay's automatic. It sounded not far away, but it was long before a rustling arose from the cottonwood trees and Clay emerged into the dim twilight bearing a limp body in his arms. "Come on and give me some help here," he cried, as soon as he spied the boat, but Ike was already hastening to his assistance. "Is he dead?" inquired Ike in an awed whisper as he gathered up the dangling legs.

"I don't know," said Clay, wearily. "It is dark in the cottonwoods so I could not see, but his heart was beating all right when I found him. I stumbled over him by accident or else I would not have found him until morning. I found him lying all in a heap at the foot of a big cottonwood. I don't know what happened to him. Let's get him down into the cabin where we can see what's the matter with him."

Between them they managed to get him on deck and down into the cabin's bright light.

"I'll hold him while you get a blanket and spread it out on the floor," Clay said. "He's dripping with blood so it would ruin his bunk to put him in it. Now put some water on to heat and then come back and help me get his clothes off. I guess we will have to cut them off him."

Together the two worked away at Case's clothing, removing it bit by bit, being careful not to cut into skin or flesh. Each piece they removed was stained with blood. When the last piece had been cut away Clay arose and got the now hot water. "Get the medicine chest, Ike, while I wash off some of this blood," he directed.

When the dried blood was washed away, the boys stood appalled at the sight that met their eyes. From head to feet Case's body was a mass of cuts and bruises. Clay looked puzzled. "His heart action is good, and all his wounds, though there are a multitude of them, are not deep. If he has not been injured internally, I believe he will pull through. I think that lump on the head there is what has made him unconscious. Well, let's get to work and fix him up as best we can."

For a full hour the two boys labored over their wounded companion. First cleansing the wounds with warm water made antiseptic by the addition of a little carbolic acid, they applied a healing salve, and bound clean bandages to the parts until the unfortunate lad's body looked like a checker-board. Along towards the last, Case began to show signs of returning consciousness and as they lifted him into his bunk he opened his eyes.

"I knew you fellows would come and find me," he murmured weakly. "That, I guess, was the last thing I thought of before I hit that cottonwood tree."

"Who hurt you?" inquired Clay eagerly.

Case tried to grin but groaned at the effort.

"It was Teddy Bear," he said faintly. "As soon as we got amongst the cottonwoods, he bolted. I, like a fool, wrapped the end of the rope around my waist three or four times and tried to check him, but the first jerk threw me down, and away he went dragging me over logs and roots and bumping me up against the trees. I saw that big cottonwood tree coming and tried to throw myself one side, but couldn't do it. I felt a smash on the head and that's the last I remember."

"Teddy must have pulled loose after you hit the tree," Clay mused. "Feel any pain inside of you. Case?"

"No, but I feel mighty weak, loss of blood, I guess. If you'll fix me up a bowl of broth, I'll drink it and see if I can't sleep off this weak feeling."

Hot water was already on the stove and the addition of a full jar of beef extract quickly made a bowl of strong broth. Soon after he swallowed it, Case was sound asleep. His first deep breathing was the signal for the two boys to partake of their own supper, which had suffered greatly through neglect. Little was said as they ate, only Ike remarked.

"I don't think Case is bad off. See how soundly he is sleeping. Those wounds don't seem to hurt him a bit."

"They will by tomorrow," Clay prophesied, grimly. "Every inch of his body will be filled with aches and pains. Flesh wounds do not hurt much at first. If we keep on at this rate we'll soon all be disabled," he added gloomily. "Only one day out from Nome and two laid up beside Captain Joe. We will not go far at this rate."

But Ike's spirits had risen with the assurance of Case's being in no immediate danger. "Oh, Alex, he will be all right," he declared, as Alex's loud snores filled the cabin. "Case, take longer maybe, but his blood is strong and clean an' he'll be all right in no time. Captain Joe, I am not so sure about, you understand, but I think maybe he die."

"He certainly will if you do not quit stuffing food into him every half hour. When an animal or man is in Joe's condition, the less you give them to eat the better until their wounds are mending. Captain Joe would stand more chance of getting well if he only had a bowl of broth with a few crackers broken up in it, three or four times a day, but we had better be getting into our bunks for we have to get an early start in the morning. If you'll wash up the dishes, I'll overhaul Captain Joe's wounds again, and then turn in."

Much to his surprise, Clay found Captain Joe's cuts in much better condition than he had expected. "It must be that long soaking in the cold salt water has drawn a good deal of the fever out of them," he said. "It looks to me as though the old fellow was going to get well."

It was with the cheering thought that both their companions were in no danger of death that they fell into a sound sleep, exhausted by the eventful day they had been through.

So soundly they slept that they did not hear Case awaken just after midnight and groan to himself softly as he waited through the dreary hours for daylight to come and his chums to awake.

It was Ike who was the first to awake, and by the unwritten law of the cruise, he it was to whom the lot fell of cooking breakfast. He lay quiet for a minute, blinking the sleep out of his eyes, then slipped softly out of his bunk so as not to awaken his companions. He stopped at Case's bunk with joyful greeting to find him conscious, if in pain.

Case tried to smile at the little Jew's joyous greeting, but it was all he could do to stifle a groan.

"I'll fix you up a cup of coffee and some broth, good broth, right away," Ike said. "They no stop the hurt you understand. They just make you more strong to fight the hurts." He was as good as his word and was back in a few minutes with the coffee and broth prepared over the electric stove while breakfast was cooking over the other one. It was not long before he was able to call "Grub's ready," which brought Clay and Alex tumbling from their bunks, Alex apparently none the worse from his experience of the day before. They both greeted Case with joy, but while the mystified Alex was learning what had happened to put his chum in such a condition, Clay slipped out to the point and looked up and down the river. Far down toward the mouth of the Yukon he saw a thin streamer of smoke and he grinned with satisfaction.

"We've got plenty of time to linger over our breakfast," he announced gleefully. "That steamer is eleven or twelve miles down the river yet. Come on all, let's eat."

Over the meal Case's accident was discussed. Alex was worst hurt of all, for Teddy Bear had been his dearest pet.

"I think if he comes back before we go we had ought to shoot him," Ike declared, savagely.

"No, don't hurt him," growled Case from his bunk. "He didn't mean to hurt me, I am sure. He was just wild for a run on shore."

"I am the one to blame for this," said Clay, regretfully. "I saw Ted's trouble coming days ago. I ought to have insisted on leaving him at Nome. We were bound to lose him sooner or later, but I never thought he would do so much damage in his leave taking."

"How did you know that Teddy was going to run away?" demanded Alex, scornfully. "Bears don't think out loud and, if they did, I fancy it would take you some time to pick up their lingo."

"Alex," said Clay, thoughtfully. "Did you ever stop to think how good it seems when we get back to Chicago from one of our long trips? Everything looks fine and fresh to us. The shop windows are wonderful, the noise and bustle thrill one and even the smell of the asphalt is pleasant."

"And there are the movies and the shows and all the excitement going on all the time," murmured Alex, half regretfully.

"Well, that was what was the matter with Teddy," Clay continued. "He was born in the Northland and its lure is one of the strongest instincts in him. As soon as we touched St. Michael's he began to get uneasy. The trees and the smell of the earth was in his nostrils, and the whole lure of the Northland, handed down from a long line of savage ancestors, was stirring deep down within him and he had to go. He just had to go."

"Bosh," Alex said. "You're weak in your comparisons. Aren't we dead sick of Chicago early in the spring and eager to be off on another trip? Besides, Teddy is an educated bear with a taste for sugar that he will not soon forget. I'll bet you we will see him again."

"I hope not," Clay said, arising. "Well, I guess we had better be getting under way. That old water wagon must be within three or four miles from here now. Ike, will you wash the dishes and tidy up the cabin? I hate to ask you to do it so often, but with Case laid up, I'll have to have Alex do the steering."

"That's all right, Clay," Ike replied cheerfully. "I can run a news stand all right, you understand, but I can't run a motor boat yet, so why should I not make myself useful at something else? I didn't come as a passenger. I came as one of the crew."

The _Rambler_ was backed slowly out of the little cove into the open river.

About two miles down the river the river steamboat was making slow progress against the current.

Alex headed out for the channel, the _Rambler_ ambling lazily along under third speed. As soon as Alex reached the channel, he headed up stream so that the steamboat's bow was headed directly for the _Rambler_'s stern.

Clay came forward to hold a conference with the wheelsman. "I am going to keep slowed down until we are within a couple of hundred yards of her, then swing around in a broad curve and come alongside, but be careful to keep far enough away, we don't want any smash-up."

He walked back to the motor, wishing he had Case, cool, cautious reliable Case, who was always alert to run no more risks than could be avoided. Alex was a skillful wheelsman but daring and reckless at times.

The big steamboat came up on them slowly but surely. When she was within about 200 yards of the _Rambler_, Alex twirled the wheel over and the _Rambler_ swung around in a graceful curve, while Clay bent to his motor, shoved the timer up a few more notches and turned on a little more oil and air. A great yelling from the steamboat drew his attention away from the motor. Most of the passengers were on their feet waving their arms excitedly, while an officer on the upper deck was cursing volubly in the most approved Yukon style, for the _Rambler_ was driving down on the steamer as if bound to cut her in two. Unmindful of the curses of the officer, Alex held on until it seemed that only a miracle could save the tiny _Rambler_ from being smashed to pieces against her big sister. Alex jammed the wheel hard up and the _Rambler_, spinning around like a top, ranged alongside of the big boat, their sides almost touching. A swift glance upward showed him that he had hit where he had aimed for; on the deck above sat the Yukon Kid and close beside him was a wonderfully pretty girl.

The danger over, Clay was busy at the motor closing the timer down until the _Rambler_ was running even with the steamer.

Ike had come out of the cabin and stood looking up at the Kid with a delightful grin on his face.

"Hallo, Ikey," greeted the Kid, in good-natured banter. "Have you decided to set up that secondhand store in Nome yet?"

"No. Mr. Kid," replied Ike politely. "It wouldn't pay. There's got to be more nice ladies come there first. It takes the ladies to make the men dress up fine. My, Mr. Kid," he added innocently, "you sure are fixed up fine today."

The Kid's face grew red to the roots of his hair, while on the girl's face a smile struggled for mastery over a blush.

Alex, up at the wheel, felt a thrill of joy for the quickness of the witty retort. "Ike's sure my partner for this trip," he promised himself.

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