[Ill.u.s.tration: A BLUEBIRD.]

"You haven't given him any wings," said Jimmieboy, after carefully examining the picture.

"No: that's the reason he is blue. He has to walk all the time. That's enough to make anybody blue," explained the Quill. "Here's a puzzle for you!" he added. "Guess what it is, and I'll write to your Uncle Periwinkle and tell him if he'll come up here on Sat.u.r.day with two dollars in his pockets, you will show him where you and he can get the best soda-water made."

[Ill.u.s.tration: STEEPLE-CHASING.]

This is the picture the Quill then presented to Jimmieboy's astonished gaze.

"Humph!" said Jimmieboy. "It looks like two men on horseback running after something, but what, I'm sure I don't know."

"What does it look like?" asked the Quill.

"Nothing that I ever saw."

"Nonsense!" returned the Pen. "Does it look like a fox, or a Chinese laundry, or a what?"

"It doesn't look like any of 'em," insisted Jimmieboy.

"Dear me! How dull you are!" cried the Quill. "Why, boy, it's a church steeple, that's what. Now what is the whole thing a picture of?"

"A steeple-chase!" cried Jimmieboy.

"Exactly," said the Quill, very much pleased that after all Jimmieboy had guessed it. "And now I'll write that letter to Uncle Periwinkle."

And so he wrote;

P. S.--DEAR UNCLE PERIWINKLE,

Come up on Sat.u.r.day. Bring all the money you've got, and the soda-water we'll have will sail a yacht. If you can't come, send the money, and I'll look after sailing the yacht.

Yours affectionately, JIMMIEBOY.

"Will that do?" asked the Quill.

"Yes," said Jimmieboy. "And now put it in an envelope, and I'll put it with the letters to be mailed."

"Now draw some more," he said, after this had been mailed.

But the Quill answered never a word. He had evidently fallen asleep.

Strange to say, Uncle Periwinkle never got his letter, and the pictures the Quill made all faded from sight, and so were lost.

SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES.[2]

BY KIRK MUNROE.

CHAPTER x.x.xIX.

INVADING A CAPTAIN'S CABIN.

An earthquake could hardly have caused greater consternation in the village of Klukwan than did the boom of that heavy gun as it came echoing up the palisaded valley of the Chilkat. Not many years before the Indians of that section had defied the power of the United States, and killed several American citizens. A gunboat, hurried to the scene of trouble, sh.e.l.led and destroyed one of their villages in retaliation.

From that time on no sound was so terrible to them as the roar of a big gun.

While Phil and his companions were chafing at the delay imposed upon them by the greed of the Chilkat Shaman a government vessel arrived in the neighboring inlet of Chilkoot, bearing a party of scientific men who were to cross the mountains at that point for an exploration of the upper Yukon, and the locating of the boundary line between Alaska and Canada.

The Princess, learning of its presence, and despairing of a.s.sisting her white friends in any other way, secretly despatched a messenger to the Captain of the ship with the information that some Americans were being detained in Klukwan against their will. Upon receipt of this news the Captain promptly steamed around into Chilkat Inlet and as near to its head as the draught of his vessel would allow. As he dropped anchor, there came such a sound of firing from up the river that he imagined a fight to be in progress, and fired one of his own big guns to give warning of his presence.

The effect of this dread message was instantaneous. Phil Ryder dropped his uplifted arm. The Chilkat Shaman scuttled away, issued an order, and within five minutes a new and perfectly equipped canoe was marvellously produced from somewhere and tendered to Serge Belcofsky. Five minutes later he and his companions had taken a grateful leave of the Princess, and were embarked with all their effects, including the three dogs.

Phil stationed himself in the bow, Serge tended sheet, and Jalap Coombs steered. As before the prevailing northerly wind their long-beaked canoe shot out from the river into the wider waters of the inlet, and they saw, at anchor, less than one mile away, a handsome cutter flying the United States revenue flag, the three friends uttered a simultaneous cry of, "The _Phoca_!"

"Hurrah!" yelled Phil.

"Hurrah!" echoed Serge.

"Bless her pretty picter!" roared Jalap Coombs, standing up and waving the old tarpaulin hat that, though often eclipsed by a fur hood, had been faithfully cherished during the entire journey.

At that moment one of the cutter's boats, in command of a strange Lieutenant, with a howitzer mounted in its bow, and manned by a dozen heavily armed sailors, hailed the canoe and shot alongside.

"What's the trouble up the river?" demanded the officer.

"There isn't any," answered Serge.

"What was all the firing about?"

"Celebrating some sort of native Fourth of July. Is Captain Matthews still in command of the _Phoca_?"

"Yes. Does he know you?"

"I rather guess he does, and, with your permission, we'll report to him in person."

"Pull up the hoods of your parkas," said Phil to his companions, "and we'll give the Captain a surprise party."

A minute later one of the _Phoca_'s Quartermasters reported to the Captain that a canoe-load of natives was almost alongside.

"Very well; let them come aboard, and I'll hear what they have to say."

In vain did the Quartermaster strive to direct the canoe to the port gangway. The natives did not seem to understand, and insisted on rounding up under the starboard quarter, reserved for officers and distinguished guests. One of them sprang out the moment its bow touched the side steps, clambered aboard, pushed aside the wrathful Quartermaster, and started for the Captain's door with the sailor in hot pursuit.

"Hold on, you blooming young savage! Ye can't go in there," he shouted, but to heedless ears.

As Phil gained the door it was opened by the Commander himself, who was about to come out for a look at the natives.

"How are you, Captain Matthews?" shouted the fur-clad intruder into the sacred privacy of the cabin, at the same time raising a hand in salute.

"It is awfully good of you, sir, to come for us. I only hope you didn't bother to wait very long at the Pribyloffs."