who had demanded the
blue envelope.

A few minutes' debate brought them to a decision. They would go
straight on to the cabin.

"Mush, Rover! Mush!" Marian threw her tired shoulders into the
improvised harness, and once more they moved slowly forward.

It was with wildly beating hearts that they eventually rounded the
corner of the cabin and came to a stand by the door. At once an
exclamation escaped their lips:

"Empty! Deserted!"

And so it proved. Snow that had fallen two days before lay piled
within the half-open doorway. No sign of occupation was to be found
within save a great rusty galley range, two rickety chairs, an
improvised table, two rusty kettles and a huge frying-pan.

"They have given the ship up as a total loss, and have left in dories
or skin-boats," said Marian.

"Yes," agreed Lucile. "Wanted to get across the Straits before the
coming of the White Line."

The "coming of the White Line." Marian started. She knew what that
meant far better than Lucile did. She had lived in Alaska longer, had
seen it oftener. Now she thought what it would mean to them if it came
before the skin-boat came for them. And that skin-boat? What would
happen when it came to Whaling? Would the Chukches tell them in which
direction they had gone? And if they did, would the Eskimo boatmen set
their sail and go directly to East Cape? If they did, would they miss
this diminutive cabin standing back as it did from the shore, and
seeming but a part of the sandbar?

"We'll put up a white flag, a skirt or something, on the peak of the
cabin," she said, half talking to herself.

"Do you think we ought to go right on to East Cape?" said Lucile.

"We can't decide that now," said Marian. "We need food and sleep and
the dogs need rest."

Some broken pieces of drift were piled outside the cabin. These made a
ready fire. They were soon enjoying a feast of fried fish and canned
baked beans. Then, with their water-soaked mucklucks (skin-boots) and
stockings hanging by the fire, they threw deerskin on the rude bunk
attached to the wall and were soon fast asleep.

Out on the wreck, some two hundred yards from shore, a figure emerged
from a small cabin aft. The stern of the ship had been carried
completely about by the violence of the waves. It had left this little
cabin, formerly the wireless cabin, high and dry.

The person came out upon the deck and scanned the horizon. Suddenly
his eyes fell upon the