Me been prisoner here long time. Me see white
Ingliss man once. He come my country. He go way. My people want kill
him, no like. He be take away. His name Andre!"

"Great Scott!" exclaimed the professor. "I believe this woman was
acquainted with the poor fellow whose bones we found! Can it be
possible!"

"You come; me save!" went on the strange woman. "Me no like it here;
want go to my people. Me learn spik Ingliss from Andre. Me young girl
then!"

"Well, of all the strange happenings!" exclaimed the inventor. "I
believe she is telling the truth. Probably poor Andre Christiansen got
among her people and she learned a little English from him."

"You come?" questioned Dirola. "Me show you where ship hid."

"I wonder if it's safe to trust her," said the old hunter. "According to
the message we found, the people Andre fell among were not very kind."

The woman seemed to understand that some objection was being raised. She
spoke rapidly and earnestly.

"My people no harm," she said. "Me tell 'um you save me, they no kill
you. You come. Much hurry now. You be killed here!"

"I think we might as well chance it," was Professor Henderson's
opinion. "Perhaps she does know where the ship is from hearing talk
among members of the fishing party that captured us. What do you say?
Shall we go?"

Every one agreed that it would be better than to stay in the cave and
face an unknown danger. So, wrapping their furs closely about them, the
captives rose silently and prepared to follow the woman, who seemed
pleased that they were going. She did not lead them out the way they had
been brought in, but by a smaller entrance.

"Go easy!" she cautioned. "No want bad mans to hear! They kill Dirola!"

Walking like cats in their soft boots of fur, the prisoners followed the
strange woman who had so opportunely come to their rescue. Though they
were very apprehensive, they met with no one. Leaving the glare of the
big lamp behind, they were soon in semi-darkness, but in a little while
they emerged into the bright sunlight.

"They all sleep!" muttered Dirola, motioning toward the camp of
Esquimaux which she indicated was behind the ice cavern they had just
left. "We walk; den we git dogs an' sleds. Den we ride so no can catch!"

At a sign from Dirola the seven prisoners stepped out briskly. It seemed
queer to see the sun shining after having been in the dark cave, where
it looked like night, and to get used to the appearance of Old Sol