"I won't be able to prove a thing without the doc.u.ments," he told himself. "And it would be useless to try."

That evening the matter was talked over by the men and the boys from every point of view, but nothing came of it. Barwell Dawson agreed with Andy that nothing could be accomplished until the missing doc.u.ments were brought to light.

"I really think your uncle is to blame for this," said the hunter. "If he had not acted as he did, you would not have been forced to run away, and then the papers might be safe and sound at your cabin."

"I'd like to know what became of that A. Q. Hopton," said Andy.

"Well, he didn't get the papers, and that's one comfort," said Chet, with a sickly grin.

There was now no use in going to Lodgeport to see a lawyer, and instead, Andy and Chet went out again for another search. But this was as useless as the others. Not a trace of the missing doc.u.ments could be found anywhere.

"Might as well give it up," sighed Andy. "They are gone, and that is all there is to it."

Again matters were talked over, and Barwell Dawson advised Andy to go home and face his uncle.

"If you wish, I'll go with you," said the hunter. "Perhaps I can get him to tell just what that A. Q. Hopton was up to."

"I'd like it first-rate, if you would go along, Mr. Dawson," answered the boy quickly.

"Want me along?" asked Chet.

"You might as well come," answered Andy. "We can take some of the moose meat. The horns are yours, Chet."

They set off for the Graham cabin on the following morning. Barwell Dawson's ankle was now quite well, although he was prudently careful how he used it. It had cleared off rather warm, so the trip was a pleasant one. The boys had with them all the meat they could carry, and also their guns, and wore the snow-shoes Professor Jeffer had loaned them.

On the way Chet asked Barwell Dawson how soon he expected to start for the north.

"I hope to get the _Ice King_ ready by the middle of February or first of March," was the hunter's reply. "You see, for such a trip we require an immense amount of stores, and of just the proper kinds. It won't do to take stuff that will freeze and burst open. Once I remember I was up there, and had some bottles of catsup along. The bottles froze and burst, and we had catsup scattered all over the camp."

"I suppose you can't get much up there?" said Chet.

"Absolutely nothing outside of game--musk oxen, polar bears and hares, seal, walrus, and some birds. In some parts of Greenland you can get moss that you can put in soup, but it doesn't amount to a very hearty meal. In a cold climate like that, one needs to eat plenty of meat, and the more fat, the better. The Esquimaux live on the fattest kind of meat they can get, and on blubber, and they think tallow candles a real delicacy."

"Excuse me from eating candles," said Andy.

"If you were real hungry, you'd eat anything," answered Barwell Dawson, gravely. "I was once lost on the ice, and was glad enough to chew strips of seal hide to ease the pangs of hunger. When I got back to camp, my stomach was in such a condition that they fed me my first meal very carefully, just a bit at a time. If I had eaten my fill quickly, I might have died."

CHAPTER XII

A LETTER OF INTEREST

"The place looks shut up," observed Chet, when the party came in sight of the Graham homestead. "Not a bit of smoke, and the snow isn't cleared away from the doorstep."

"Maybe Uncle Si is sick and can't get around," answered Andy, quickly.

"Sick? Lazy, you mean," returned his chum.

They advanced to the front door and knocked. There was no sound from within, and Andy walked around to the shed. The door was locked, but the key was on a shelf near by, and he quickly opened the door.

"Uncle Si is away," he announced, as he walked through the cabin, and let the others come in. "My! but it's cold here! We'll have to start a fire right away."

"I'll do that," answered Chet. "You sit down and rest that sore ankle,"

he went on, to Barwell Dawson, and the hunter was glad to do as bidden.

While Chet started a lively blaze in the big open fireplace, Andy went through the cabin, looking for some trace of his uncle. Much to his surprise, he found Josiah Graham's traveling bag missing, and also all of the man's clothing.

"He has gone away!" he cried, and then caught sight of a letter, pinned fast to the top of a chest of drawers. The outside of the letter was addressed to Andy Graham. The communication was written in lead pencil, in a chirography anything but elegant, and ran as follows:

"_My dere Nephy Andy_ i hav got a chanct to git a job up Haveltown way and i think I beter tak it you dont seme to car for to have me tak car of you so i am goin to leave you to tak car of yourself Mr. Hopton wanted to treet you square but you would knot listen so you must tak the konseakenses. he said the pappers aint much akont anyhowe. i leave my lov even if you dont lik me. --_Josiah Graham_"

It took some time for Andy to decipher the communication, and for the first time in his life he realized how very limited had been the education of his father's half-brother. He read the epistle to Chet and Barwell Dawson.

"He has deserted you!" cried Chet. "Well, 'good riddance to bad rubbish'

say I!"

"I think he was afraid that you would make trouble for him," was Mr.

Dawson's comment. "He thought you would take those papers to some lawyer, or to the authorities, and tell how he tried to sell them to Mr.

A. Q. Hopton on the sly."

"I guess that's the way it is," said Andy. He drew a deep breath. "Well, I am glad to get rid of him so easily. I sincerely hope he stays away."

"But he won't stay away," returned Chet. "He'll wait until he thinks everything is all right again, and then he'll sneak back, to live on you."

"He'll not live on me again," declared Andy. "I know him thoroughly, now. If he wants to stay here he'll have to work, the same as I do."

"Well, you are in possession of your own," declared Barwell Dawson, as he rested in the chair Uncle Si had used. "You can now take it as easy as you please," and he smiled broadly.

"I don't see how I am going to take it easy, if I can't get work,"

answered Andy, soberly. "A fellow can't live on air. Of course, I can go out hunting and fishing and all that, but that isn't earning a regular living."

"You can't get work anywhere? You look like a strong young man, and willing."

"I am strong, and willing, too. But times are dull, and there are more men up here than there is work. If it wasn't for having the cabin here, I think I'd try my chances elsewhere."

"Where?"

"I don't know--perhaps down in one of the towns."

Andy invited Barwell Dawson to remain at the cabin for the rest of the day, and the invitation was accepted. The chums set to work to prepare a good dinner, and of this the hunter partook with great satisfaction.

"You boys certainly know how to cook," he declared, as he finished up.

"A fellow has to learn cooking and everything, in a place like this,"

answered Andy.