Anyway, this year won't see us back in Vancouver." He
paused, with a little jarring laugh. "We're going to stay up here
until we find out where those men left their bones. The man who has
this thing in hand isn't the kind that lets up."

Charly made no answer, but his face hardened as he put his helm down a
spoke or two.

Next day the wind fell lighter, but for a week it still held westerly,
and after that it blew moderately fresh from the south. Crippled as
she was, the _Selache_ would lie a point or two south of east when they
had set an old cut down fore-staysail on what was left of her mainmast,
and the hearts of her crew grew a little lighter as she crawled on
across the Pacific. They had no wish to be blown back to the frozen
North. The days were, however, growing shorter rapidly, and the sun
hung low in the southern sky when at length she crept into one of the
many inlets that indent the coast of Southern Alaska. There was just
wind enough to carry her in round a long, foam-lapped point, and soon
afterwards they let the anchor go in four fathoms in a sheltered arm,
with a river mouth not far away. There was no sign of life anywhere
about it, and the ragged cedars that crept close down to the beach
stood out in sombre spires against the gleaming snow.

The cold was not particularly severe when she crept in, but when
Dampier went ashore next morning to pick a log that they could hew a
mast out of the temperature suddenly fell, and that night the drift ice
from the river mouth closed in on them. When the late daylight broke
she was frozen fast, and they knew it would be several months before
she moved again. It was then before the gold rush, and in winter
Alaska was practically cut off from all communication with the south.
No man would have attempted to traverse the tremendous snow-wrapped
desolation of almost impassable hills and trackless forests that lay
between them and the nearest of the commercial factories on the north,
or the canneries on the other hand. Besides, the canneries were shut
up in winter time. They were prisoners, and could only wait with what
patience they could muster until the thaw set them free again.

CHAPTER XVIII.

A DELICATE ERRAND.

There was sharp frost outside, and the prairie was white with a thin
sprinkle of snow, when a little party sat down to supper in the
Hastings homestead one Saturday evening. Hastings sat at the head of
the table, his wife at the f