"Well, at any rate," said the Major, "we've found a place that won't make a bad shelter from Arctic blizzards. I suggest that we bring the plane up to the edge of the woods nearest this point and camp here."

"What's that?" exclaimed Bruce in a startled whisper, as he detected some noise outside.

He pushed the door open fearlessly, then laughed. There stood a dog.

"Not a bad find," said the Major. "He may be a lot of help to us. And, look! There are four others! They're the trader's dogs. Ran away when the place burned, I haven't a doubt. Barney, run and get some wolf meat.

We'll have a team at once. And we'll need it. Can't move the plane without it."

They were soon on good terms with the strange dogs. The Major, who appeared to know all there was to know about Arctic life, fashioned some Eskimo style harness from wolfskin, and before many hours they had their plane by the edge of the woods, and were settled in their new home.

That night, after they had enjoyed reindeer steak as a special treat, the Major rather playfully put the receiving piece of the wireless over his head and clicked the machine. Almost instantly, he exclaimed:

"Jove! I'm getting something! Give me a note-book and pencil."

For fifteen minutes he scratched strange dots and dashes across innumerable pages. At last he paused and removed the receiver.

"Guess that's about all for this time. Let's see what we've got."

Three heads bent over the message. But, after hours of study, the only conclusion they could come to was that the message had been sent in a secret code, which they might never be able to decipher.

"Well," said the Major, with a sigh. "Station's closed for to-night.

Tell the gentleman to call again in the morning." At that he crept into his sleeping-bag and was soon snoring. The two boys gladly followed his example.

Barney made the first announcement in the morning. He was going caribou hunting. He had had quite enough "dog meat." Bruce offered to go with him, but, on second thought, decided to try fishing through the ice.

Barney was soon lost in the wilderness of scrub spruce. But, though he hunted far, he found no fresh caribou tracks. It was on his return trip that he received the first surprise of the day. The wind was blowing fine snow along the surface and he found his out-going trail half-buried.

Then, suddenly, he came upon strange footprints. The person apparently had been going North, but upon seeing the white boy's track he had turned and retreated. The tracks were fresh and had been made by a heelless skin-shoe.

"Indian!" Barney gasped.

Even as he spoke he caught the gleam of a camp-fire through the trees; then another and another. Without a moment's delay Barney started for the camp two miles away.

He had reached the open s.p.a.ce where the trading station had stood, had nearly crossed it, when out of the edge of the ruins there rose the form of a man, not an Indian but a white man. Barney's first thought was that it was Bruce or the Major. His second look brought action. He dropped flat behind some fire-blackened debris. The man wore a tomato-colored mackinaw, such as was not to be found in their outfit. Whoever he was, his back was turned and he had not seen the boy.

Creeping a little forward, Barney peered around the pile. What he saw set the cold chills chasing up his back. The man had torn two of the lead-wires from the frosted earth. Slowly he placed their points together. In that instant the boy understood. He knew now the reason for the three wires leading to the power-house. Two were for carrying light to the building. If the third one was connected with the right one of the lighting-wires, an infernal-machine would be set going, and the power-house, with all in it, would be blown to atoms. And, at this moment, Bruce and the Major were there. The man, whoever he was, had, since the wires were broken, found it necessary to test the pairs out. His first trial had been wrong. He was bending over for a second try when something struck him, bowling him over like a ten-pin. It was Barney.

The man was heavier than Barney, and evidently older. He was fit, too.

One thing Barney had noticed--the gleam of an automatic in the man's hip-pocket. In his sudden attack he had managed to drag this out and drop it upon the snow.

The struggle which followed was furious. Holds were lost and won. Blood flecked the snow, arms were wrenched and faces bruised. Slowly, steadily, Barney felt his strength leaving him.

At last, with a gliding grip, the man's hand reached his throat. It was all over now. Barney's senses reeled as the grip tightened. His lungs burned, his head seemed bursting. He was about to lose consciousness, when through his mind there flashed pictures of Bruce and the Major. He must! He must! With one last heroic effort, he threw the man half from him. Then, faintly, far distant, there seemed to echo a shot, a single shot; then all sensation left him.

When the boy felt himself coming back to consciousness, he hardly knew whether he was still in the land of the living. He dared not move or open his eyes. Where was he? What of the stranger? The Major and Bruce; had they been blown into eternity? Again and again these problems whirled through his dizzy mind.

Then all at once, he heard a voice.

"I think he's coming 'round," someone, very far off, was saying.

It was the gruff voice of the Major. Barney opened his eyes to find his companions bending over him.

"What happened?" he asked weakly, his eyes searching their faces.

"That's what we'd like to know," answered Bruce; "we heard a shot, and hurrying out here found you unconscious beside a dead man."

"Dead?" Barney sat up dizzily.

"Sure is. Did you shoot him?"

"Shoot--I shoot--" The boy tried to steady his whirling brain. "No, I didn't shoot him."

Gradually the world ceased whirling about him and he was able to think clearly. Then, together, they pieced out the story. Barney told what had happened, and you may be very sure it was a sober pair that listened.

"Well, my boy," said the Major solemnly, "we owe our lives to you; there's no doubt about that. As for him," he added, pointing to the dead man, "he must have rolled upon the automatic when you made your last effort, and accidentally discharged it. He has a bullet-hole in the back of his head where a pin-p.r.i.c.k would have killed him. A case of pure Providence, I'd call it."

"Let's get out of here," said Barney, showing signs of weakness. "I've had quite enough of it."

With an arm on either of his comrades' shoulders, he made his way back to the station, where a bowl of hot reindeer broth completely revived him.

"The next thing," said Bruce, "is to hunt out that infernal contraption which threatens our lives."

It was a delicate and dangerous undertaking, but little by little, they traced out the wires and disconnected them. At last they found it in a small box which had been skillfully fitted into a beam.

"Innocent looking little thing," said Bruce, holding it up for inspection. "To-morrow I am going to take it out to the lake, hook it up with a couple of batteries and see if it's got any kick."

After a hearty meal, the three resumed their previous evening's occupation, attempting to decipher the strangely coded message.

"Here's a theory to try out," said Bruce. "A message is usually composed of nearly an equal number of words of one to three letters and of those having more than three. These are likely to be used alternately. If then, you find two or three words of four or more letters, it's likely to be a name. The man, whoever he is, has signed only a code name, but there may be more names in the body of the message. Look it over."

"Yes, here are two words together of five letters each," exclaimed Barney.

"Think of names you know that are spelled with five letters," said Bruce excitedly.

Instantly there came into Barney's mind the name of his former pal.

"There's Dave Tower," he said. "He'd sign it David, of course."

"Just fits," exclaimed Bruce, more excited than ever. "And by all that's Canadian, the first and last letters of the first name are the same, just as they are here. I believe we're on the right track."

"But what would his pal have to do with it?" asked the astonished Major.

"He went North about the time we started." Barney danced over the floor in his excitement.

While the boys were too excited to do further deciphering, the Major's cooler brain was busy. Soon he rose and began pacing rapidly back and forth across the room. His face wore anything but a pleased expression, and his limp was greatly increased by his irritation.

"Did you get it?" asked Barney.

"I should say I did!" exclaimed the Major. "Right in the neck! And to think," he sputtered, "here we are without gasoline to carry us a hundred miles, and he starting with everything in his favor. If we just had gas for three hundred miles. There's plenty on the schooner, Gussie Brown. I called Nome yesterday and found that out. But they can't bring it to us, and we can't go to them. We're stuck; stuck right here! And he's starting to-morrow!"

The boys stared in speechless amazement, as the Major, dropping into a chair, covered his face with his hands.