untry to secure
this much needed medium of exchange. Then there were the Chukches. Wild,
superstitious tribes of spirit-worshipping people, they might come down
from the north in thousands to wipe out this first white settlement
established on their shores.

Johnny's men had known of all these perils and yet they had freely and
gladly joined the expedition. His heart swelled with joy and pride at
thought of the trust they had put in him.

Yet here was a new and unknown peril. The death of Langlois could not be
fairly laid at the door of either Chukches or Russians. Could it be
charged to some treacherous member of their own group? Johnny hated to
think so, yet, how had it happened? Then, too, there was that strange
earth-tremble; what caused that?

Already his men were growing superstitious in this silent, frozen land. He
had heard them saying openly that they would not work in the mine where
Langlois died. Ah, well, there were six other mines, some of them probably
as rich. They could be worked. But was this peril to follow them into
these? Was his whole expedition to be thwarted in the carrying out of its
high purposes? Were the needy in great barren Russia to continue to freeze
and starve? He hoped not.

As he rose to go, he saw a small dark object scurry over the snow. At
first he thought it a raven. But at last, with a little circle, it
appeared to flop over and to lie still, a dark spot on the snow.

Johnny approached it cautiously. As he came close, his lips parted in an
exclamation:

"A phonographic record!"

He looked quickly up the hill, then to the right and left. Not a person
was in sight.

"Apparently from the sky," he murmured.

But at that instant he caught himself. They had a phonograph in their
outfit. This was doubtless one of their records. But how did it come out
here?

As he picked it up and examined it closely, he knew at once that it was
not one of their own, for it was a different size and had neither number
nor label on it.

"Ho, well," he sighed, "probably thrown away by some native. Take it down
and try it out anyway. Might be a good one."

At that, he began making his way down the hill.

He was nearly late to mess. Already the men were assembled around the long
table and were helping themselves to "goldfish" and hot biscuits.

"Boys," Johnny smiled, "I've been downtown and brought home a new record
for the phonograph. We'll hear it in the clubroom after mess."

"What's the