"Pshaw! Cheer up, Sandy," said Tom, trying to put a bold face on the matter, as was always his way.

"Yes, we'll come out of it all right," struck in Jack bravely, concealing his real fear of the outcome of the adventure.

"We've been in worse fixes than this before and got through all right," supplemented Tom, and Sandy appeared to pluck up some heart from the confident tones of his companions.

"Tell you what," suggested Jack suddenly, "I've got an idea."

"What is it?"

"Why, to find out where we are. It's no use asking those wooden Indians; they wouldn't say if they did know, and couldn't if they didn't."

"Well, but what's your plan?" asked Tom impatiently.

"Just this. You remember how the captain on the _Northerner_ found out when he was dangerously near to the coast by blowing the whistle and waiting for the echo?"

Tom nodded.

"Well, why can't we do the same by hollering at the top of our voices?"

"Good boy! I see your idea. If we're near land, we ought to catch the echo of our voices."

"That's the scheme exactly."

The boat was tossing too violently to stand up in it, but the boys placed their hands to their mouths, funnel-wise, and set up as loud an uproar as they could.

Sure enough, back out of the fog faint and obscure, but still audible, came an unmistakable reply.

"Hul-l-o-o-o-o!"

Their faces brightened. Even Sandy broke into a grin.

"We're aboon the land!" he cried out.

"Must be," declared Tom positively.

He looked at the two natives, who had been regarding the proceedings with no more interest than they appeared to display in anything else.

"Row that way," he ordered in a loud, clear voice, pointing off into the fog in the direction from whence the answer to their shouting had come. The natives obeyed without a word. Whether they understood him or not Tom never knew, but they appeared to apprehend his vigorous gesture well enough.

As they rowed along, the boys repeated their practice, and every time the echo came louder and more clearly.

"Wish we'd thought of that before," sighed Jack, "we might be in the harbor by this time."

"Better late than never," Tom a.s.sured him cheerily.

Before long they could hear the roar of waves breaking on the coast.

The natives apparently heard them, too, and kept the boat out a little. The angry sound of the breaking waters was sufficient warning that no landing could be attempted there.

"We must be running along the coast," decided Tom.

"How can you guess that?" inquired Jack.

"Yes, I dinna ken how you know, unless you hae the second sight,"

agreed Sandy, who had in a large measure recovered his self-possession at the idea of the proximity of land.

"Easy enough," responded Tom, "the echo only comes from one side. If we were in a harbor or channel it would come from both sides."

"So much the worse," declared Jack. "We know now that we are not anywhere near Kadiak, for that is rock walled on either side and we should get the echo from both directions."

"Still, it's something to know that we are even within touch of land,"

said Tom, and in this they all agreed.

After a while the roaring of the surge grew less loud. This gave Tom an idea.

"We must be near to an inlet or something that will afford a landing place," he said, as the thunder of the surf diminished and finally almost died away. "What do you say if we go ash.o.r.e?"

"What kind of a country will we find?" objected Jack.

"It couldn't be worse than tossing about in this dory, could it?"

demanded Tom. "At any rate, we might find people ash.o.r.e and a shelter and some food."

Both Jack and Sandy agreed to this, and Tom made motions to the native oarsmen that they were to make a landing if possible. In response to his gesture the men nodded as if they understood what was wanted, and began rowing directly toward the direction in which they had guessed the landing place lay.

As they neared the sh.o.r.e, which was still, however, invisible through the mist, the surf thunder grew louder. But the natives did not appear alarmed. No doubt they were thoroughly used to handling their craft in the surf and such proved to be the case.

When they got quite close to the sh.o.r.e and the boys could see a dark outline against the mist which they judged was a wall of cliffs, the two natives stopped rowing and back-watered. They did this till a big wave came along behind the dory, lifting its stern high in the air.

Then, with a piercing yell they dug their blades into the water.

The dory was flung forward like a stone from a sling. The men leaped out as the wave broke, and ran the craft amidst the surf and spume high and dry upon what proved to be a sandy beach in a little covet between two frowning battlements of rocky cliff.

The boys scrambled out. Even though they had not the remotest idea where they were, the touch of solid earth felt good under their feet after that blundering voyage in the mist. But their surroundings were cheerless enough. Above them, except where the soft blanket of fog obscured the view, towered the dripping walls of black rock, all moist and shiny with the mist.

On the beach, the surf thundered and screamed as the waves broke and receded. Now and then the sharp shriek of some sea-bird rose startlingly clear above the voice of the sea. The boys felt lonely and wretched. But this feeling, seemingly, was not shared by the stoical Aleuts. They drew out pipes and began to smoke in silence. They appeared to pay no attention to the boys whatever, and Tom began to get angry at their indifference. After all, their blundering had placed the boys in their predicament, and Tom felt, and so did his companions, that the natives ought to make at least some effort to right their error.

"Here, you," he said angrily, addressing one of them, "where are we?"

The man shook his head. If he knew, he did not betray it by a change of expression or a spoken syllable.

"Ask him about getting something to eat," said Sandy. "Mon, but I'm famished."

Tom tried to convey this idea to the natives in speech, but it was plain they did not understand. Then he fell back on the sign language.

Here he succeeded better. He pointed to his mouth and then rubbed his stomach, a sign understood from the Arctic Ocean to Statenland. The native grinned and gave over smoking a minute. He nodded his head.

"Bye'm bye," he said, "bye'm bye."

"Well, at least he understands that much English," cried Tom triumphantly. "I wish I could tell him to hurry up. 'Bye'm bye' might mean any time."

But in answer to further efforts, the native only nodded and smiled amiably. After a while, during which the boys strolled about disconsolately, the natives smoked their pipes out, and then began to talk in their guttural, grunting tongue. Of course, the boys could not understand what they were saying, but as well as they could judge the two men were coming to some sort of a decision. Suddenly they got to their feet and made off through the fog at a swift pace. The boys ran after them, shouting, but the Aleuts speedily vanished.