"No mush to-day. Mush to-mollel."

"Why not to-day?"

"Innua him angry to-day."

"Who is Innua?" demanded the Professor, bristling. "We do not care who is angry. That has nothing to do with us."

"He means the mountain spirits," explained the store-keeper.

"Eh?" questioned Chunky. "Mountain spirits?"

"He means spirits in the air," explained Butler. "We are not afraid of spirits, Anvik."

"Anvik no like."

"How do you know Innua is abroad?" asked the Professor, now curious to know more of the native superst.i.tions.

"See um."

"Where?"

"On big mountain," indicating Mt. St. Elias with a sweeping gesture.

"He won't go until to-morrow. If you want him you will have to wait,"

the store-keeper informed them.

"Then I suppose we shall have to wait," reflected Professor Zepplin. "It may be an excellent idea after all. We can pitch camp in the village and acquaint our guide with our methods of doing things, Anvik, do you know how to put up tents and make camp?"

"Me make Ighloo, fine Ighloo. Snow no get in, cold no get in, Innua no get in."

"How about rain?" put in Stacy.

"Rain no get in."

"That's all right, then. We don't care whether the snow gets in or not, but we don't want to have to swim out of our Ighloos in the middle of the night. One is liable to get wet, you know," reminded Brown.

The Professor arranged the wages with Anvik, calling upon the store-keeper to witness the bargain and put it in writing. The Professor then directed the boys to take the new guide out and begin his instruction in the ways of the Pony Rider Boys. The Professor remained to purchase necessary stores and supplies, consulting the proprietor as to what would be needed on the journey. The advice of the store-keeper was helpful in aiding the Professor to take only such equipment and supplies as would be absolutely necessary.

Anvik went to the Indian village to bring his pony, the boys in the meantime starting off to pick a camp site.

"One thing, boys, we mustn't play tricks on Anvik," reminded Tad. "I have an idea that he hasn't much of a sense of humor. He might lose his temper and run away and leave us after we were deep in the interior of the country."

"Do you know, I don't believe he is an Indian at all," a.s.serted Ned Rector.

"Neither an Indian nor a white man," suggested Stacy wisely.

"I think he is an Esquimo," spoke up Walter.

"What's the odds? We don't care what his race is so long as he answers our purpose," declared Butler.

"He says he is an I-Knew-It, and I believe him," said Stacy Brown with emphasis.

"An Innuit, you mean," corrected Tad.

"That's it, an I-Knew-It, and that's what I did--"

"There he comes," cried Walter.

The Indian was leading a pony that looked as if it had not felt a brush or comb since its birth, but Tad's discerning eye noted that the little animal was hardy and well-conditioned, though of evident temper.

"Does he kick?" asked the boy, as Anvik tied his mount to a tree.

"Him kick like buck caribou. Him kick all time, both ways."

"We'll hopple him if he does," said Tad. "Be sure that you tie him so he doesn't kick our ponies, Anvik. We can't have anything of that sort. If he persists in kicking I'll see if I can't break him of it."

"You horse shaman?" asked Anvik.

"Yes, he's ashamed of his horse, that's it," chuckled Stacy.

Tad's face wore a puzzled look, which a few seconds later gave place to a smile of understanding.

"Oh! you mean, am I a horse doctor? Is that it?"

"Uh."

"That's what he is. Anvik has got you properly located this time. Ha, ha!" laughed Chunky.

"Come, boys, unpack. We must give our guide his first lesson. You sit down and watch us, Anvik, while we make camp."

The guide did so, grunting with approval or disapproval from time to time as the work pleased or displeased him. Under the now skillful hands of the Pony Rider Boys the camp rapidly a.s.sumed shape and form. All the tents were erected on this occasion in order that the guide might observe the whole process. The tents up, the boys settled them. There were plenty of trees about from which to get boughs for their beds, and wood was brought and a campfire built up. This especially interested the guide. He uttered grunts and nods of approval as he watched Tad build the fire in true woodsman-like manner.

"White man no make fire like Indian. You make fire like Indian."

"Thank you," smiled Butler.

"You make cook fire. How you make sleep fire?"

"A little fire close up to the tent," answered Butler. "I make it so as to get all the heat into the tent instead of sending the heat up into the air where it will do no good."

"Heap good. You good Indian."

"That's what he is, Anvil, he's an Indian," cried Stacy.

"I seem to be a good many things in this camp," laughed Tad. "Any further compliments you can pay me, Stacy?"

"No, but if you don't chase that buck over yonder behind the Professor's tent, I reckon you'll lose your rope," reminded the fat boy.

Tad sprang to his feet, leaping over the tent ropes to the rear. A native had reached under and was hauling out Butler's la.s.so. Tad grabbed the fellow by an arm and sent him spinning.