On the Yukon Trail / Radio-Phone Boys Series, #2

ad been set with the usual care for a night's comfort, his fingers drummed incessantly

e looks of it. What's keeping hi

and day by day moved forward. At first the trail had been hard-packed from many dog teams passing from village to village. But as they pushed farther and farther into the wilderness thes

y were obliged to break every foo

very afternoon an Indian had told of a cache of caribou meat some ten miles away in the fo

of the night before had led them to believe that their quest was nearing its end; th

ould await the supply of meat, while the others pressed on breaking the t

gram, but when he should have arrived Joe had not appeare

g, Jennings, taking his rifle,

his way," he

to his sled, a complete sending and receiving set. In time of trouble the first t

" Curlie mumbled. "I wonder wha

been tearing up the traffic of the air told Curlie that they were coming closer to one another, and now the whisper of the girl, that ghostlike creature who appeared to haunt the track of th

er had informed him that they w

" Curlie had whi

d made but fifteen miles. What of

at at the realization that

omehow stolen a march on them? Had he been in league with the Indian who had claimed

uccess," he exclaimed. "Three of us and

After examining the clip in the chamber, he

l," he whispered,

e banks of the Tanana River. Such silences existed in th

"Wish I could hear something-wind in the

nd was buried in two feet of snow. Muffled footst

hone for a moment to adjust a smaller set and tune it to 200

the larger set to longer wave lengths. He hoped to catch s

red of the sound of his own voice and that of his dog. Think of being able to tune in on his radio and bring down snatches of song, of instrumental mus

en who had financed his expedition, of his plans. He had established a large supply station on Flaxman Island; then he had pushed fearlessly out through the floes toward the Pole. His ship was strongly built, with an extra covering of iron-wood on its keel. Its engines were powerfu

s little world. During all the time he had listened in, his fingers had been flying across a sheet of paper. He had written down the message. It was with

He had been informed that this man had taken delight in breaking up Munson's communications. Why then this silence? Could it be that he himself w

omething about that message which interested him

was it merely a white owl flapping his wings? He sat there listening, scarcely breathing, awaiting he