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untry to secure this much needed medium of exchange. Then there were the Chukches. Wild, superstitious tribes of spirit-worshipping people, they might come down from the north in thousands to wipe out this first white settlement established on their shores. Johnny's men had known of all these perils and yet they had freely and gladly joined the expedition. His heart swelled with joy and pride at thought of the trust they had put in him. Yet here was a new and unknown peril. The death of Langlois could not be fairly laid at the door of either Chukches or Russians. Could it be charged to some treacherous member of their own group? Johnny hated to think so, yet, how had it happened? Then, too, there was that strange earth-tremble; what caused that? Already his men were growing superstitious in this silent, frozen land. He had heard them saying openly that they would not work in the mine where Langlois died. Ah, well, there were six other mines, some of them probably as rich. They could be worked. But was this peril to follow them into these? Was his whole expedition to be thwarted in the carrying out of its high purposes? Were the needy in great barren Russia to continue to freeze and starve? He hoped not. As he rose to go, he saw a small dark object scurry over the snow. At first he thought it a raven. But at last, with a little circle, it appeared to flop over and to lie still, a dark spot on the snow. Johnny approached it cautiously. As he came close, his lips parted in an exclamation: "A phonographic record!" He looked quickly up the hill, then to the right and left. Not a person was in sight. "Apparently from the sky," he murmured. But at that instant he caught himself. They had a phonograph in their outfit. This was doubtless one of their records. But how did it come out here? As he picked it up and examined it closely, he knew at once that it was not one of their own, for it was a different size and had neither number nor label on it. "Ho, well," he sighed, "probably thrown away by some native. Take it down and try it out anyway. Might be a good one." At that, he began making his way down the hill. He was nearly late to mess. Already the men were assembled around the long table and were helping themselves to "goldfish" and hot biscuits. "Boys," Johnny smiled, "I've been downtown and brought home a new record for the phonograph. We'll hear it in the clubroom after mess." "What's the
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