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18. 148
But the horses caught the scent of the bear and began
to whinny and stamp their hoofs in terror. The big
Kodiak’s ears went up and he lifted his head, probing
the air with his sensitive snout. Slowly he reared up on
his hind legs.
Jerry couldn’t restrain a gasp of astonishment and
wonder. “Wow! Will you look at the size of him! He must
be ten feet tall if he’s an inch.”
When the bear stood erect, Sandy could see a red,
matted spot on his left shoulder. “Someone shot him all
right,” he said. He pressed his lips firmly together and
lifted the big rifle to his shoulder. “Well, here goes.”
Then he added, “You take a bead on him too, Jerry, in
case I miss.”
“I’m so jittery, I don’t think I could hit the side of a
barn,” Jerry answered breathlessly. Nevertheless, he
brought up his rifle.
“It’s an easy shot,” Sandy told him. “Only about forty
yards. I’ll try for a head shot. You aim just below the left
shoulder. And take off your mittens, idiot.”
Sandy squinted down the long barrel, fixing the sight on
a spot directly between the bear’s eyes. Very gently he
squeezed the trigger. There was a tremendous explosion
and a numbing blow against his shoulder that sent him
somersaulting backward off the boulder. He lay there
stunned for an instant. Then Jerry grabbed the front of
his parka and pulled him to his feet.
“What a recoil,” Sandy mumbled.
“Forget the recoil!” Jerry was hopping up and down in
excitement. “You got him! Look! One-shot Steele, that’s
19. 149
you. Bet you could have made a chump out of Buffalo
Bill.”
Sandy focused his bleary eyes across the ravine. The
Kodiak was just a big mound of motionless fur sprawled
out on the ground.
“Come on!” Jerry pulled at Sandy’s arm. “Let’s hurry
over there so we can make like big-game hunters when
those other guys show up.” Using his rifle as a staff, he
started down the slope into the ravine.
Sandy caught up to him at the bottom and grabbed the
rifle away from him. “Don’t ever do anything like that
again!” he snapped. “You dope! You might have blown
your head off—or at least your hand. This is a loaded
gun. You’ve got to have respect for it. Never point it at
yourself or anyone else.”
Jerry flushed and dropped his eyes. “Yeah, you’re right.
It was a dopey thing to do. I’m so crazy excited I
forgot.”
“Okay.” Sandy handed the rifle back to him and they
crashed through the brush and brambles that grew
among the trunks of the birches. Scrambling up the far
slope, Sandy was aware of a heavy weight banging
against his right hip. He slipped his hand into his pocket
on that side and touched the cold metal grip of the Colt
automatic. He had forgotten about it when he packed
the heavy parka away after the sled race.
He had just withdrawn his hand from his pocket when
Jerry, who was in the lead, reached the top of the
ravine. As his eyes cleared the rim, he stopped short
and let out a wild yell. Then the bear lumbered into full
view, looming over Jerry like a cat over a very small
20. 150
151
mouse. The monster’s red-rimmed eyes blazed with
hatred and Sandy could see pink foam gleaming on the
long, bared fangs. It came to him as an incredible shock
that here they were face to face with the most
dangerous living thing in all the world—a wounded,
pain-crazed Kodiak bear.
“Jerry! The gun! Shoot!” Sandy spat the words out
jerkily.
Obeying mechanically, Jerry swung the long barrel up
and fired in the same motion. The slug plowed
harmlessly between the bear’s legs, kicking up dirt and
gravel. But it turned out to be a lifesaving shot. Caught
off balance, Jerry was kicked off his feet by the booming
recoil and went tumbling head over heels down the
steep grade. At the same time Sandy drew out the big
.45 pistol and cocked it. Then, as the bear dropped to
all fours, with the obvious intention of attacking, Sandy
fired at its hairy throat. The Army Colt .45-caliber packs
a tremendous wallop. At such close range, it knocked
the giant Kodiak back on its haunches.
Sandy pumped the last bullet into the bear’s midsection,
then turned and ran down the slope. Jerry was just
getting to his feet when he reached the bottom of the
ravine. “Find a tall tree and climb it,” Sandy yelled.
“Come on!”
Together they stumbled into the woods. Sandy
remembered that on their way over they had passed
one gnarled birch with a trunk as big around as a man’s
waist. In the manner of so many trees of this species, it
had branched out into three thick, sturdy limbs at a
height of about four feet. Without breaking his stride,
Sandy leaped up, planted one foot in the crotch and
21. 152
clawed and shinnied his way up through the branches.
He kept climbing until the limb began to bend beneath
his weight. Then, with his heart fluttering like a
frightened bird, he looked down, half expecting to see
his friend in the embrace of the great bear. There was
no trace of either Jerry or the Kodiak.
“Here I am,” Jerry’s voice rang out, so startlingly close
that Sandy almost lost his hold on the branch. The sight
of Jerry swaying back and forth on an adjacent limb at
least five feet above him, arms and legs wrapped tightly
around it like a monkey, made him weak with relief. In
spite of their precarious position, he had to smile.
Jerry was appalled. “He’s hysterical. Stark, raving mad,”
he cried. “Sandy! Snap out of it.”
“I’m fine,” Sandy said. “It’s just that I didn’t expect to
see you up there.”
“Where did you think I’d be? Back there, Indian-
wrestling with old Smokey so you could escape?”
“I don’t know how you got up there so fast. I didn’t
even see you pass me.”
“Brother,” Jerry said huffily, “if you had been as close to
that critter as I was you’d be back in Valley View by
now.”
As yet there was still no sign of the bear on the ground
below them. Sandy searched the rocky shelf where they
had encountered him, but it was empty. The clatter of
horses’ hoofs drew his attention back to the side of the
ravine they had come from. Professor Stern and the
other two men came galloping into view and reined in
their horses.
22. 153
“Here, in the tree!” Sandy hailed them. “We’re up in the
tree.”
Stern’s face reflected his relief—and not a little
amazement. “What on earth are you doing in a tree?
And what were those shots we heard?”
“We shot the bear. Then he came to life again and
chased us up here.” Sensing the professor’s
understandable confusion, he grinned. “I guess that
sounds pretty wild, doesn’t it?”
“Indeed it does,” Stern admitted. “But never mind that.
Where is the bear now?”
“I don’t know.”
Thorsen and Chris Hanson were already starting down
into the ravine, rifles ported for action. Stem
dismounted and followed them. Cautiously the men
made their way through the trees. Before they reached
the far side of the ravine the boys lost sight of them.
After several minutes of complete silence, Sandy began
to get anxious.
“Maybe that old bear was hiding behind a tree,” Jerry
suggested, “and clobbered each one of them as they
went by him, like the Indians used to do.”
Finally they heard Stern’s voice calling to them. “You
guys can come down now.”
Sandy was puzzled. “That’s funny. I guess the bear got
away after all.” He slid hurriedly to the ground.
23. 154
When they emerged from the birch grove, both boys
stopped dead. Sandy shut his eyes tight, opened them,
shut them, and opened them again. He couldn’t believe
what he saw. The three men were standing at the
bottom of the slope, all flashing broad grins. At their
feet was the mountainous carcass of the bear.
“You—you sure he’s dead?” Sandy stammered.
“Yeah,” Jerry said. “He’s a tricky one.”
Thorsen jabbed his toe into the shaggy body. “Quite
dead, I assure you, my young friends.”
“We had just reached the end of the ravine when we
heard the shots,” Professor Stern said. “Now tell us what
happened.”
Both talking at once, the boys recited the story of their
escapade with the big Kodiak.
“You remember that old movie King Kong, where the
girl first sees this giant gorilla?” Jerry asked. “Well,
that’s how I felt when this thing came at me. Oh broth-
er!” He shuddered.
Sandy took out the black Colt pistol. “And this is what
saved our lives.”
Thorsen took it from him and examined it admiringly. “A
true gem. Do you know how this gun was developed?
During the Philippine Insurrection, American troops
were being demoralized by fierce Moro tribesmen,
savage warriors who carried wicked bolo knives. The
Moros would pop up out of the jungle without warning
and attack the soldiers at such close quarters that it was
impossible for them to use their rifles. And the Moros
24. 155
156
were so physically powerful that the average pistol
couldn’t stop them. Even with a half dozen bullets in
them, they could decapitate an enemy with their bolos
before they died. The Army Colt .45 was designed
especially to stop them. And it did the job well—with
one slug.”
“It certainly stopped this monster,” said Chris Hanson.
“But it was a very lucky shot,” Professor Stern tempered
his praise. “The first shot you fired with the rifle creased
his skull and stunned him. He was probably still whoozy
when you ran into him, or you might not have had a
chance to get in a second shot. Your last shot severed
the jugular vein. It was a very lucky shot,” he
emphasized.
“You don’t have to convince me, Professor,” Sandy said
soberly. “As of now I am a retired bear hunter.”
25. 157
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The Ghost Mine
Two days later the Sterns and the Hansons came down
to the airstrip to see the boys off. Professor Stern
promised to send the bearskin to Valley View as soon as
it was cured. “It will make a nice trophy to spread out in
front of your fireplace,” he told Sandy.
“I think I’ll donate it to our local boys’ club,” Sandy said.
“And every time a new fellow joins up, he’ll have an
excuse to tell what a big hero he is,” Jerry joked.
Sandy laughed. “I bet I looked like a big hero up in that
tree all right.”
Russ Parker appeared in the doorway of the plane. “All
revved up and ready to go. You fellows set?”
The boys said their last goodbyes and climbed into the
cabin.
Mrs. Stern waved and yelled, “Thanks again for refilling
my freezer.”
“We’ll eat it up the next time we come,” Jerry said.
26. 158
Parker slammed the door and bolted it, then went
forward to the cockpit. “Fasten your safety belts,” he
ordered. The little plane took off smoothly and climbed
over the bay. Through the window next to him, Sandy
caught a last glimpse of the twin domes of the Russian
church and the ancient sea wall with its great iron rings
where the fur traders used to tie up their ships. The sun
sparkled on the blue water and glinted briefly off the
metal oil tanks of the U.S. naval base far across the bay.
Parker leveled off at 10,000 feet and set a northeast
course.
Sandy unbuckled his seat belt and went up front to the
cockpit. “How long will it take to fly to Cordova?” he
inquired.
“With this tail wind no more than two hours,” Parker
said. “We should be landing a little after ten. Your dad
and the professor want to fly back to Juneau this
afternoon.”
Sandy nodded. “From there we’re taking a commercial
airline back to Seattle.”
Parker put the ship on automatic pilot and turned
sideways in the seat. “Not driving back down the
highway?”
“No. Professor Crowell decided the trip was too rugged
in the winter. He’s leaving his dogs up here until spring.
Anyway, Jerry and I have to get back to school, so we
were planning to fly back in any case.”
Listening to the conversation with one ear, Jerry looked
up from the book he was reading. “Hey, Sandy, back in
Valley View the guys are just steeling themselves for a
session with Miss Remson in English Four. Isn’t that
27. 159
great? And here we are three thousand miles away and
two miles in the air. Think we’re safe from her?”
“Sure,” Sandy said. “And Miss Remson would probably
be just as glad if you stayed that far away from her.”
Parker pointed out a range of mountains just visible on
the northwest horizon. “Too bad you don’t have time to
visit the Valley of Ten Thousand Smokes.”
“That’s an interesting name. What is it?”
“Before Mount Katmai erupted in 1912 it was a fertile
farm region. Then the whole top of the mountain blew
off—two cubic miles of rock vaporized into thin air. One
hundred miles away in Kodiak they had to shovel the
dust and ashes off the roof tops.”
Sandy whistled. “That’s as bad as having an H-bomb
drop in your back yard.”
“Maybe worse,” Parker said grimly. “Then the entire
floor of the valley erupted into little fumaroles, or
volcanic potholes, that spewed out molten sand.
Thousands of them. That’s where they got the name
Ten Thousand Smokes. Today there are only seven of
them that are still active, but the valley is a desert
wasteland.”
Sandy squinted through the windshield, imagining he
could see a thin ribbon of smoke rising from one of the
peaks. “What happened to old Mount Katmai? Is it still
active?”
“Well, the experts think it’s still boiling way down inside.
There’s a big lake in the crater now, but it never
freezes. I’ve heard it’s warm enough to swim in.”
28. 160
Jerry, who had come forward to listen to the story, was
wonderstruck. “Why, I bet you could land a plane on the
lake and find out,” he said.
“It’s a thought,” Parker agreed, not too enthusiastically.
“Maybe some day I’ll try it.”
For the remainder of the trip, he captivated the boys
with other tales about the big land, and almost before
they knew it they were approaching Cordova. The traffic
was light and the tower gave them immediate clearance
to land.
A quarter of an hour after the plane touched down, they
were on their way to town in the auto of a radio
technician who was going off duty. Russ Parker
remained at the field to give the Norseman a thorough
inspection before the afternoon flight to Juneau. “We’ll
take off about one, I guess,” he told them as they were
leaving.
The considerate radio man dropped them off in front of
the old-fashioned hotel where Dr. Steele had said they
would be staying. The clerk at the desk informed them
that the geologists were still registered, but that he had
not seen them since the previous morning.
“Are you certain they didn’t come back when you were
off duty?” Sandy asked him.
“Positive,” the clerk declared. “The chambermaid said
their beds haven’t been slept in.”
Sandy looked at Jerry helplessly. “Well, I guess we’ll just
have to wait for them.”
29. 161
162
The clerk gave them a passkey to one of the two
adjoining rooms occupied by Dr. Steele and his party.
When they entered the room, the boys were surprised
to see that the geologists hadn’t even started to pack.
Clothing, books and toilet articles were scattered
everywhere.
Jerry looked at his wrist watch. “We’re never going to
take off for Juneau at one o’clock at this rate. It’s after
eleven now. Are you sure you didn’t get the days mixed
up, Sandy? Maybe your father wasn’t expecting us until
tomorrow.”
A little seed of fear began to grow inside of Sandy. “No,
he said the third. Professor Crowell told Russ he wanted
to fly to Juneau today, too. I can’t understand it, Jerry.
If Dad didn’t expect to be here when we got back from
Kodiak, he would have left word for us. Anyway, they
couldn’t have been planning to make any overnight
trips. They didn’t take razors, toothbrushes or anything;
my dad shaves every morning even when he’s on a
fishing trip miles from civilization. I don’t like it, Jerry.”
Jerry’s face turned pale under its perpetual tan. “Sandy,
you don’t think those enemy agents...?” He left the
sentence unfinished.
Before Sandy could reply, the telephone on the stand
between the twin beds jangled harshly. The boys looked
at each other hopefully.
“Maybe that’s Dad calling.” Sandy threw himself across
one of the beds and picked up the receiver eagerly. But
it was Russ Parker phoning from the airfield.
“I don’t think it’s anything to worry about,” Parker said,
“but I just found out that your dad and his friends
30. 163
chartered a plane yesterday morning to fly out to
McCarthy. That’s an old ghost town near the abandoned
Kennecott copper mine. When they didn’t show back
last night, the authorities figured they had been forced
down somewhere with engine trouble. Search planes
have been combing the area all morning, but there’s no
sign of the plane, crashed or otherwise.”
“What do you think we should do, Russ?” Sandy asked
in a tight voice.
“I dunno. I sort of thought we might fly out that way
ourselves and have a look.”
“That’s a good idea, Russ. Jerry and I will be out as
soon as we can hitch a ride. Thanks for calling.” He
slammed down the receiver and related the latest
development to Jerry. Minutes later they were on their
way.
As they swooped low across the small ghost town of
McCarthy, Parker banked the plane sharply and
indicated the unblemished expanses of white around the
town. “No one has set down here since before the last
snow,” he said.
“Is there anywhere else they might have landed?”
Sandy asked.
“Maybe up at the mine proper. We’ll fly up that way and
have a look.”
“Imagine having a ghost town up here,” Jerry marveled.
“I thought they were exclusive to the old American
West. It’s kind of spooky, everyone packing up and
leaving a place. Almost as if it was haunted.”
31. 164
“Ghost towns are haunted in a sense,” Sandy said. “By
poverty and hunger. They’re towns that build up around
mines and have no other livelihood. If the mines close
down they’re doomed.”
“Any community that puts all its eggs in one basket runs
the risk of becoming a ghost town,” Parker put in.
“Why did the Kennecott mine shut down?” Sandy asked
curiously.
“The ore just ran out,” Parker said. “Here we are now.”
Below them Sandy saw a sprawling shedlike structure
that seemed to be hanging on the side of a hill. “That’s
the main building,” Parker said. “See those long wires
that look like trolley cables? They used to send the ore
down from the shafts by cable car. Then it was loaded
on trains and shipped to Cordova to be put on ships.”
On a level plateau below the Kennecott mine, they
spotted the long twin ski marks of a plane. There were
two sets, one set almost parallel to the other.
“No doubt about it,” Parker said. “A plane landed here
recently. And it took off again.” He brought the
Norseman’s nose up and began climbing.
“But if they took off again, where did they go?” Sandy
was sick with fear. The idea of his father lying badly
injured—or worse—in the wreckage of a crashed plane
terrified him. “If—if they had cracked up, the search
planes would have found them by now, wouldn’t they?”
Parker chewed thoughtfully on his underlip. “I would
think so. Unless they wandered outlandishly far off
course. But there isn’t any reason why they should
32. 165
have. The last two days and nights have been perfect
for flying.” Ominously, he added, “But we can’t discount
that possibility altogether. There’s so much territory to
cover even with an air search that a small plane might
be missed. In Canada they insist that private planes
follow well-traveled routes like the Alaska Highway
instead of flying the beam, for that very reason. If you
have to make a forced landing, there’s a better chance
you’ll be found promptly.”
“Listen,” Sandy implored the pilot, “let’s land here and
look around. Maybe we’ll find a clue or something to
show where they went.”
Parker shrugged. “Sure, if it’ll make you feel any better.
But if they were here, they definitely took off again.”
Parker landed the Norseman smoothly, cutting across
the ski tracks of the other plane. He taxied to the far
end of the clearing, turning her about in position for a
take-off, then cut the engines. The plane settled heavily
in the snow.
“Looks pretty deep out there,” Parker estimated. “We
better dig out snowshoes from the baggage
compartment.”
They had landed about a quarter of a mile away from
the main building of the mine, and because of the boys’
inexperience on snowshoes it was a slow walk.
“I feel just like a duck,” Jerry grumbled as he brought
up the rear, flopping along in the clumsy, webbed
footgear. “Overgrown tennis rackets, that’s all they are.”
“You’re not supposed to try and walk the way you do in
shoes,” Sandy instructed him. “You just shuffle along.”
33. 166
167
At last they stood beneath the big ramshackle structure.
It was spooky, Sandy had to admit to himself, just as
Jerry said. Once this building had been the nerve center
of a booming industry, buzzing with activity and life.
Now it stood on the hillside, gaunt, decaying and silent.
Before many more years it would become a rickety
skeleton.
He shuddered as Parker led them up on the moldy
loading platform and into the tomblike dampness of the
shed. “We can go on up to the main building through
here. There are stairs right inside.” They passed through
a doorway into a room illuminated only by the slivers of
daylight that penetrated the cracked boards.
Suddenly, Russ Parker did an about-face and began
talking. “Well, here we are.” Only he seemed to be
talking to someone in back of them.
Sandy whirled quickly and saw that the doorway was
blocked by a huge man wearing a stocking cap and a
plaid mackinaw. His face was hidden in shadow. But the
big Lüger pistol in his right hand was very plain to see.
34. 168
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The Plot Revealed
In his other hand the stranger carried a square electric
lantern. He turned the powerful beam on Sandy and
Jerry. “Did you have any trouble with them, Parker?”
“Not a bit,” Parker said. “The Steele boy suggested
himself that we land here. And of course there was no
trouble at all persuading him to fly out here with me.”
The boys looked from Parker to the other man in
bewilderment. “Russ,” Sandy pleaded, “tell us what’s
going on. Who is this guy?” He turned on the stranger
belligerently. “Do you know where my father is?”
“My name is Kruger,” the man snapped. “And, yes, I do
know where your father is. Now, turn around and march
up those stairs.” He waved the pistol at them
threateningly.
As the boys started up the stairs, the men fell behind
and lowered their voices. “How do you like that!” Jerry
declared. “Russ Parker is in with these characters.”
“I can hardly believe it,” Sandy said miserably. “Anyhow,
at least I know Dad is okay—so far,” he amended.
35. 169
“No conversation, please,” Kruger ordered sharply.
“Parker, you sneak,” Sandy said bitterly, “you won’t get
away with this. The authorities know my dad and his
friends are missing. And when we don’t show back at
the airfield there’ll be even more search planes combing
this area.”
The pilot began to laugh. “No one knows your father
and the others are missing. No one at all. By now the
hotel has received a telegram from Skagway saying that
Professor Crowell and his party returned there on urgent
business and that someone will pick up their luggage
and pay their hotel bill.”
Sandy was confused. “But—but what about the people
at the airport? You said there were search planes out
looking for the missing plane.”
“There is no missing plane. Yesterday morning four men
rented a plane. Last evening the plane returned—with
four men. There was another crew on duty at the
airport. They couldn’t suspect that the passengers were
four different men.”
Kruger seemed to enjoy the boys’ discomfort. “By the
time the American authorities discover that any of you
are missing you will be well out of reach in Siberia.”
“Across that narrow stretch of water we were talking
about,” Parker taunted them. “The Bering Strait.”
The man with the gun took them through a series of
tunnels that slanted up steeply through the
mountainside. The ascent was severe, and every ten
minutes or so they would stop to rest. When they
emerged into the open again, Sandy saw that they were
36. 170
171
at the site of the main diggings. The terrain was
pockmarked with shafts and tunnels. Rusty train tracks
disappeared into the gloomy mine tunnels, and
abandoned dump cars tilted up through the snow drifts
about the entrances. Far below, the main building of the
Kennecott mine squatted at the foot of the mountain;
from this perspective it reminded Sandy of a miniature
cardboard house sitting on a floor of cotton beneath a
Christmas tree. They followed a path around a bend to
the mouth of a huge tunnel. To one side of it a flaking,
rusted cable car rocked gently from a metal cable that
was equally rusted. It scraped and screeched
monotonously at the slightest gust of wind.
“In here,” Kruger ordered. “This was one of the main
shafts of the mine.”
They walked along the rail ties back about one hundred
yards, where a rectangle of yellow light splashed into
the corridor from a doorway in one wall of the tunnel.
Kruger motioned them through the doorway into a big
chamber that evidently had served as a locker room for
the miners. Rotting wooden benches and tin lockers
cluttered up the room, many of them overturned, all of
them sagging. A large gasoline lantern burned on a long
wooden table in the middle of the room. On either side
of the table sat a strange man with a rifle across his
knees. Across the table, seated all in a row on a bench,
their hands and feet tied, were Dr. Steele, Professor
Crowell, Lou Mayer and Tagish Charley.
“Dad!” Sandy burst out. “Am I glad to see you! Are you
okay?”
Dr. Steele managed a strained smile. “I’m all right, Son.
We all are. But I can’t say I’m glad to see you boys.” He
37. 172
turned to one of the men with the rifles. “Did you have
to drag them into it, Strak? They’re only boys. They
don’t even know what this is all about.”
The man he addressed, a short, intense fellow who
moved with the quick, nervous motions of a squirrel,
stood up and walked toward the new arrivals. He
stopped in front of Sandy and stroked his prominent
clean-shaven chin.
“So this is your son, Dr. Steele? A fine-looking lad.” He
spoke careful, formal English. “I, too, regret that he and
the other youth had to become involved. But we
couldn’t take any chances. They would have notified the
police that you were missing and....”
“Don’t be a fool!” Professor Crowell snapped. “The
police will discover our absence soon enough.”
Strak smiled patiently. “I disagree. Secrecy has been the
keynote of your project. Only a few people in both your
governments—high officials—know your real purpose in
coming to Alaska. By the time they discover you are
missing, we will all be safely out of the country.”
“Of course, Dr. Steele, you could spare your son and his
friend a lot of unnecessary hardship by co-operating
with us,” Kruger said. “Just the answer to one simple
question....”
“You’re wasting your time,” Dr. Steele said flatly.
“Have it your own way.” Strak sighed wearily. “You will
tell us, you know. That is certain. Today, tomorrow, next
week or six months from now. We can wait.”
38. 173
Kruger pushed the boys toward the bench where the
other hostages were seated. “Parker, help me tie these
two up.”
When the boys were securely bound, Strak motioned
Parker to follow him. “Come, Parker. Let us go outside.
We have a few things to discuss in private.”
“You want Malik and me to stay here and guard the
prisoners?” Kruger asked.
Strak hesitated a moment, then shook his head. “No,
come along. You should all hear this.” He glanced at the
prisoners. “I don’t think they’ll get loose.” He smiled.
“And even if they did, where would they go? We’ll be up
at the entrance—the only entrance.”
The four men left the room and their footsteps echoed
off down the tunnel. In the dim light of the lantern Dr.
Steele’s face was drawn and pale.
“I’ll never forgive myself, getting you boys mixed up in
this,” he said. “Once I knew they were on to us, that we
hadn’t deceived them into thinking this was an innocent
geological expedition, I should have sent you back to
California on the first plane.”
“Don’t blame yourself, Dad,” Sandy said quietly. “I
wouldn’t have left you, knowing that you were in some
kind of serious trouble.”
“That goes for me too, sir,” Jerry backed him up.
“What I don’t understand,” Sandy said, “is how they
caught you.”
39. 174
“We walked right into their hands,” Professor Crowell
explained. “Parker knew we were coming up to the
Kennecott mine and tipped them off. They flew up
ahead of us, hid their plane in the trees and covered up
the ski tracks. When we arrived they were waiting for
us.”
“A whole gang of them,” Lou Mayer put in. “Seven of
them, armed to the teeth. Four of them took our plane
back to Cordova so the people at the airport wouldn’t
report us missing.”
“I know,” Sandy said grimly. “They took care of the
hotel too. By the time the authorities get suspicious it
will be too late. The one called Kruger says we’ll be in
Russia by then.”
Dr. Steele and Professor Crowell looked at each other
hopelessly. “Unless we tell them what they want to
know,” Dr. Steele said.
Sandy’s eyes were puzzled. “Just what are they after? I
guess you can tell us now.”
Dr. Steele smiled wanly. “I guess we can.” He paused
before he went on. “Although he’s better known as a
geologist, Professor Crowell is one of Canada’s leading
physicists. During World War Two he was assigned to
rocket research work for the Canadian Army and
continued to specialize in this field after the war.
“About six months ago an old Yukon prospector
submitted an ore sample to a government assay office
at Whitehorse. He said he had been prospecting on the
Alaskan border and struck what he believed was a vein
of gold. An analysis of the sample revealed traces of
copper, but no gold. But much more important, it
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