ve superstitions.

"See um."

"Where?"

"On big mountain," indicating Mt. St. Elias with a sweeping gesture.

"He won't go until to-morrow. If you want him you will have to wait,"
the store-keeper informed them.

"Then I suppose we shall have to wait," reflected Professor Zepplin. "It
may be an excellent idea after all. We can pitch camp in the village and
acquaint our guide with our methods of doing things, Anvik, do you know
how to put up tents and make camp?"

"Me make Ighloo, fine Ighloo. Snow no get in, cold no get in, Innua no
get in."

"How about rain?" put in Stacy.

"Rain no get in."

"That's all right, then. We don't care whether the snow gets in or not,
but we don't want to have to swim out of our Ighloos in the middle of
the night. One is liable to get wet, you know," reminded Brown.

The Professor arranged the wages with Anvik, calling upon the
store-keeper to witness the bargain and put it in writing. The Professor
then directed the boys to take the new guide out and begin his
instruction in the ways of the Pony Rider Boys. The Professor remained
to purchase necessary stores and supplies, consulting the proprietor as
to what would be needed on the journey. The advice of the store-keeper
was helpful in aiding the Professor to take only such equipment and
supplies as would be absolutely necessary.

Anvik went to the Indian village to bring his pony, the boys in the
meantime starting off to pick a camp site.

"One thing, boys, we mustn't play tricks on Anvik," reminded Tad. "I
have an idea that he hasn't much of a sense of humor. He might lose his
temper and run away and leave us after we were deep in the interior of
the country."

"Do you know, I don't believe he is an Indian at all," asserted Ned
Rector.

"Neither an Indian nor a white man," suggested Stacy wisely.

"I think he is an Esquimo," spoke up Walter.

"What's the odds? We don't care what his race is so long as he answers
our purpose," declared Butler.

"He says he is an I-Knew-It, and I believe him," said Stacy Brown with
emphasis.

"An Innuit, you mean," corrected Tad.

"That's it, an I-Knew-It, and that's what I did--"

"There he comes," cried Walter.

The Indian was leading a pony that looked as if it had not felt a brush
or comb since its birth, but Tad's discerning eye noted that the little
animal was hardy and well-conditioned, though of evident temper.

"Does he kick?" asked the boy, as Anvik tied his mount to