aithe and the others might be guided hither if they
succeeded in finding the _Wild Goose_. But the night wore away without
interruption, and by six o'clock the next morning the search for the
missing craft was renewed.

"We're most down to Tagish Lake, I reckon," remarked Captain Zoss. "I
don't believe the _Wild Goose_ could go through, 'ceptin' she was bottom
side up and minus our traps, which I don't hope fer, eh?"

The entrance to Tagish Lake was reached, and they were speculating on
what to do next, when Randy shouted, "Here they come, and they have the
_Wild Goose_ in tow!"

His announcement proved correct, and quarter of an hour later Wodley
sent his own craft up to the bank with a swish through the water-grass
and tundra, or moss, which was now beginning to show itself on every
side. The _Wild Goose_ was close behind, and they noted with
satisfaction that she seemed to be in the same condition as they had
left her.

"We found her stuck in the mud on the other side," announced Dr.
Barwaithe. "The wind had just sent her along and left her, and the only
damage done is to some of the provisions which were soaked by the rain
and snow."

"We can be thankful it's not worse," replied Foster Portney. "If she had
not turned up, I don't know what we would have done."

Dr. Barwaithe had become well acquainted with the party, and had given
Mrs. Wodley some medicine containing a large quantity of quinine, for
the woman was suffering from chills and fever, something frequently met
with in Alaska.

It did not take long for both parties to haul their boats into Tagish
Lake, and once on that broad sheet of water, all sail was set for the
six miles of river which connects that body of water with Marsh Lake,
called by many Mud Lake, on account of its shallowness and soft bottom.

As they skimmed along, Earl and Randy, under the directions of their
uncle, sorted over the provisions, putting aside for immediate use such
as would not keep after being wet. This had scarcely been finished when
the end of Tagish Lake appeared in sight.

"There is some sort o' a camp ahead," announced Captain Zoss. "Don't
look like er miner's strike, either. Injuns, I'll bet!"

The captain was right. The camp was a rude one, consisting of half a
dozen huts and dugouts. The Indians numbered about two score, and they
were the most disagreeable Randy and Earl had yet beheld. Each was
painted from forehead to chin with greasy black and red paint, a