"Well, I may be wrong, but from the look of his face, I should say that Tad Butler knows something about the affair. Mind you, I'm not saying he did it, but I reckon he knows the man who did," observed Stacy.

"Tad Butler, did you do that?" demanded Ned.

"Stacy seems to think I did."

"Then I've nothing more to say."

"I--I thought you were going to whale the fellow who did it," reminded Stacy.

"I reckon I've changed my mind," muttered Ned. "I'll have a talk with Tad later, though."

"No time like the present," laughed Butler.

"Young gentlemen, enough of this. I am amazed at you, Tad," rebuked Professor Zepplin.

"Tell them the rest, Stacy," nodded Tad.

The fat boy hung his head.

"Maybe I was to blame, after all. I reckon Tad was after me, not Ned,"

admitted Stacy.

"What had you done?" questioned the Professor with a poor attempt at sternness.

"I--I tied a string to the provision line. You know Tad had a line tied to it with one end around his wrist so that he would know if an intruder began to interfere with the provisions?"

"Yes. Go on."

"Well, as I told you, I tied another string to the rope. After Tad got to sleep I pulled the rope. He went out to see what had done it. I guess he didn't find it, for he went out several times after that. Oh, I made him dance a merry dance," chuckled Stacy. "By and by I went to sleep.

That was the last I knew until I found myself sliding out of the tent on my back."

Everyone shouted. Stacy's droll way of telling the story was too much for them.

"So that was the way of it, eh?" questioned Ned.

"So Stacy says," nodded Butler.

"And you didn't mean to drag me out?"

"No; the fellow who did the dragging must have gotten hold of the wrong foot," replied Butler.

"Then I forgive you. I would endure almost anything for the sake of seeing Chunky get the worst of it."

"Well, I like that!" shouted the fat boy. "I'm glad that you, too, got some of the worst of it. Why didn't you tie the rope around his neck while you were about it, Tad, and make a thorough job of it?"

Nevertheless, Stacy was set upon having his revenge on Tad, even though he was himself to blame for the trick that had been played on him. The sun shone over the camp of the Pony Rider Boys a few hours later, and the rough hike was again taken up. It was the middle of the fifth day after the roping experience when the boys first caught sight of Yakutat Bay. Huge cakes of floating ice were being thrown up into the air by the strong gale that swept in from the Pacific, the whitened ice in strong contrast with the black sands of the beach.

Towering above it all, nearly five miles in the air, stood Mt. St. Elias glistening in the mid-day sun. Rushing streams roared down the sides of the mountain, thundering through deep gorges cut into the rocks through perhaps thousands of years of wear. It was a tremendous spectacle, exceeding in impressiveness anything the boys had ever looked upon.

At their feet lay the wreck of the rude cabins of the early Thlinkit Indians. There was no sign of any other village. The masts of a few small schooners were visible on the southern side of the bay. It was in this part of the waters that ships came to anchor. Here they were not exposed to the heavy swell from the Pacific, being sheltered by islands on the southern side.

An Indian wrapped in a gaudy blanket went striding stolidly past the Pony Rider party.

"Will you tell us where the town is?" called Tad.

Without looking at the questioner, the Indian pointed up the hill to the right.

"He means on top of the mountain," interpreted Stacy.

"No. There is a trail leading up through the trees," answered Tad. "But it can't be much of a settlement."

"There must be quite a town here," said the Professor. "I have read that in the year 1796 the Russians established a penal colony here, having erected quite a plant. A city was laid out at the time, though I think I have heard that the penal buildings were burned down. But we shall find out more when we get to it."

The climb was a stiff one--almost straight up, it seemed to the boys.

Three miles of this through a forest-bordered trail brought them to the village.

"This certainly is some town," laughed Tad.

They saw before them a general store, two or three shops that looked as if they were for the purpose of supplying miners' outfits, with a few scattering cottages here and there. To the left they could make out the smoke from the new Thlinkit village. Squaws from the latter were sitting about the village street weaving baskets. Such beautiful baskets none of that party ever had seen before. The boys could hardly resist the temptation to buy, but knowing that every pound and every inch of bulk in their packs counted, they contented themselves with admiring the handicraft of the squaws.

Ponies or horses were seldom seen in the Yakutat street, so those of the Pony Rider outfit attracted no little attention. A swarm of Indian children gathered about them, chattering half in English and half in their native language.

The keeper of the general store came out to greet the outfit, scenting some trade, and shook hands with the Professor warmly.

"Anybody'd think the Professor was his long-lost brother," chuckled Stacy.

A bevy of dark-eyed squaws surrounded the Professor. In several instances papooses were strapped to their backs, the youngsters looking as if they did not enjoy it any too well.

"Why do they tie them up in splints?" asked Stacy.

"To keep them from getting broken," answered Rector.

A squaw offered Stacy a pair of beaded moccasins that were gorgeous to his eyes.

"How much?"

"Fife dolee."

"Eh? I don't hear very well?"

"Four dolee."

"I'll give you a dollar and fifty cents."

"Two dolee. You take um?"

"You bet I'll take um. It's like finding moccasins to get them for that price."