"And it couldn't get on in Andy's pocket," went on Tom. "So he must
have had it open near where there was ink."
"His fountain pen might have leaked," suggested Mr. Jackson.
"In that case the ink spot would be on the outside of the map, and
not on the inside," declared Tom, with the instinct of a detective.
"Unless he had the map folded in his pocket with the inside surface
on the outside, the ink couldn't have gotten on. Besides, Andy
always carries his fountain pen in his upper vest pocket, and that
pocket is too small to hold the map. No, I'm almost positive that
Andy or his father have sneakingly made a copy of this map!"
"I'm sorry to have to admit that Mr. Foger is capable of such an
act," spoke Mr. Swift, "but I believe it is true."
"And here is another thing," went on the young inventor, who was now
closely scanning the parchment through a powerful magnifying glass,
"do you see those tiny holes here and there, Mr. Jackson?"
"Were they there before, Abe?" went on Tom, calling the old miner's
attention to them.
"Nary a one," was the answer. "It looks as if some one had been
sticking pins in th' map."
"Not pins," said Tom, "but the sharp points of a pair of dividers,
or compasses, for measuring distances. Andy, or whoever made a copy
of the map, used the dividers to take off distances with. This
clinches it, in my mind."
"I don't know," answered the young inventor. "It would be of little
use to go to Andy. Naturally he would deny having made a copy of the
map, and his father would, also. Even though I am sure they have a
copy, I don't see how I am going to make them give it up. It's a
hard case. There's only one thing I see to do."
"Start for Alaska as soon as possible, and be first on hand at the
valley of gold."
"Good!" cried the miner. "That's the way to talk! We'll start off at
once. I know my way around that country pretty well, an' even though
winter is coming on, I think we can travel in th' airship. That's
one reason why I wanted t' go in one of these flyin' machines.
Winter is no time to be in Alaska, but if we have an airship we
won't mind it, an' it's the best time t' keep other people away, for
th' ordinary miner or prospector can't do anythin' in Alaska in
winter--that is away up north where we're goin'."
"Exactly where are we going?" asked Tom. "I have been so excited
about discovering Andy's trick that I haven't had much time to
consider where we're bound for nor what will be the best plan to
follow."
"Well, we're goin' to a region about seven hundred an' fifty miles
northwest from Sitka," explained the old miner, as he pointed out
the location on the map. "We'll head for what they call th' Snow
Mountains, an' th' valley of gold is in their midst. It's just over
th' Arctic circle, an' pretty cold, let me tell you!"
"You'll be warm enough in Tom's airship, with the electric stoves
going," commented Mr. Jackson.
"Well, we'll need t' be," went on the miner. "Th' valley is full of
caves of ice, an' it's dangerous for th' ordinary traveler. In fact
an airship was the only way I saw out of th' difficulty when I was
there."
"Then you have been to the valley of gold?" asked Tom.
"Well, not exactly to it," was the reply, "but I was where I could
see it. That was in th' summer, though of course the summer there
isn't like here. I'll tell you how it was."
The miner settled himself more comfortably in his chair, and resumed
his story.
"It was two year ago," he said, "that me an' Jim Mace started to
prospect in Alaska. We didn't have much luck, an' we kept on workin'
our way farther north until we come to these Snow Mountains. Then
our supplies gave out, an' if it hadn't been for some friendly
Eskimos I don't know what we would have done. Jim and me we gave 'em
some trinkets an' sich, and th' Indians began talkin' of a wonderful
valley of gold, where th' stuff lay around in chunks on top of the
ground."
"Me and Jim pricked up our ears at that, so to speak, an' we wanted
to see th' place. After some delay we was taken to th' top of a big
crag, some distance away from where we had been stopping with the
friendly Eskimos, or Indians, as I call 'em. There, away down below,
was a valley--an' a curious sort of a valley it were. It seemed
filled with big bubbles--bubbles made of solid banks of snow or ice,
an' we was told, me an' Jim was, that these were caves of ice, an'
that th' gold was near these caves."
"Well, of course me an' my partner wanted to go down the worst way,
an' try for some gold, but th' Indians wouldn't let us. They said it
was dangerous, for th' ice caves were constantly fallin' in, an'
smashin' whoever was inside. But to prove what they said about th'
gold, they sent one of their number down, while we waited on th'
side of th' mountain."
For answer the old miner pulled from his pocket a few yellow
pebbles--little stones of dull, gleaming yellow.
"There's some of th' gold from amid th' caves of ice," he remarked
simply. "I kept 'em for a souvenir, hopin' some day I might git back
there. Well, Jim an' me watched th' Indian going down into th'
valley. He come back in about three hours, havin' only gone to th'
nearest cave, an' he had two pockets filled with these little chunks
of solid gold. They gave me an' Jim some, but they wouldn't hear of
us goin' t' th' valley by ourselves."
"Then a bad storm come up, an' we had t' hit th' trail for home--the
Indians' home, I mean--for Jim an' I was far enough away from ours."
"Well, t' make a long story short, Jim an' me tried every way we
knowed t' git t' that valley, but we couldn't. It come off colder
an' colder, an' th' tribe of Indians with whom we lived was attacked
by some of their enemies, an' driven away from their campin'
grounds. Jim an' me, we went too, but not before Jim had drawed this
map on a piece of dog-skin we found in one of the huts. We had an
idea we might get back, some day, an' find the valley, so we'd need
a map t' go by. But poor Jim never got back. He got badly frozen
when the Indians drove us an' our friends away, an' he never got
over it. He died up there in th' ice, an' we buried him. I took th'
map, an' when spring come, I made a hike out of that country. From
then until now I've been plannin' how t' git t' that valley, an' th'
only way I seen was an airship. Then, when I was prospectin' around
out in Colorado I saw Tom's machine hidden in th' trees, an' I
waited until he come along, which part you know as well as I do,"
finished Abe.
"And that's the story of the valley of gold," spoke Mr. Swift.
"That's all there is to it," assented Abe, simply.
"Do you think there is much gold there?" asked Tom.
"Plenty of it--for th' pickin' up," replied the miner. "Around th'
caves of ice it's full of it, but, of course, it's dangerous. An'
th' only way t' git t' it, an' pass th' savage Indians that are all
around in th' mountains about th' valley, is t' fly over their heads
in th' airship."
"Will you go all the way in the Red Cloud?" inquired Mr. Jackson.
"No, I think I'll send the airship on ahead to some point in
Washington--say Seattle," replied Tom, "put it together there, and
start for the Snow Mountains. In Seattle we can get plenty of
supplies and stores. It will be a good point to start from, and will
save us a long, and perhaps dangerous, flight across the United
States."
"I think that will be the best plan," agreed Mr. Swift. "But what
about Andy--do you think he'll try to follow--or try to get ahead of
you now that he has a copy of the map?"
"He may," answered Tom. "But I have a little trick I'm going to work
on Andy. I will try to learn whether he really has a copy of the
map, though I'm practically certain of it. Then I'll decide what's
best to do."
"In th' meanwhile, will you be gettin' ready?" asked Abe. "I'd like
t' start as soon as we can, for it's awful cold there, the longer
you wait, at this time of th' year."
"Yes, I'll start right to work, getting the Red Cloud in readiness
to be shipped," promised Tom.