by this time to-morrow. Their camp isn't more than
seventy-five miles from here at most."

The whistle of the _Bennington_ once more roared out, and with the
rattle of her anchor chains again the cutter pushed on up the coast,
carrying with her, without asking their consent, the entire party of
natives, who now fell flat on the deck in terror, supposing that they
were being carried off to the white man's punishment for native
misdeeds.

XXXII

THE DESERTED CAMP

"So the plucky little dogs killed a bear, eh?" went on Captain Stephens,
as he paced up and down the deck. "I'll warrant they've had a deuce of a
good time in there all by themselves, and they'll be sorry to be
disturbed. Find them! Of course we will--find them fat as seals and
happier than we are!"

In spite of all this both he and Mr. Hazlett were uneasy enough when
finally the _Bennington_ steamed majestically through the narrow mouth
of Kaludiak Bay--the first steamer ever to awaken the echoes there--and
finally swung to her anchor at a point indicated by the Aleut chief.

But to the whistle there came no answer of a rifle-shot, no signal
fluttered, and no smoke was seen. The Aleut chief now became genuinely
frightened as he pointed out the landing-place opposite to the
barabbara, which, of course, could not be seen by reason of the low
sea-wall.

The rattle of the davit blocks followed that of the anchor chains as a
bow boat was launched.

"Go aboard, Mr. Cummings!" said Captain Stephens. "Take Mr. Hazlett and
this old chief, and don't you come back without those boys! They're only
out hunting somewhere, or else they'd have a fire going."

As the bow of the boat grated on the shingle Mr. Hazlett sprang ashore,
and, under guidance of the Aleut, hastened over the sea-wall and across
the flat to the barabbara. All was deserted and silent! No smoke issued
from the roof, and not the slightest sound was to be heard. No boat
appeared at the shore of the lagoon. The Aleut chief threw himself on
the ground and began to chant.

Mr. Hazlett kicked open the door of the hut and pushed in, searching the
half-dark interior. Only the whitened ashes showed a former human
occupancy. It was not until, in his despair, he had turned to leave that
he saw, fastened by a peg to the inside of the door, a brief note on a
bit of paper.

"Mr. Richard Hazlett," it read. "All well. We sailed about July 30th.
Love to the folks." Signed to this were the names of th