glad of the opportunity to find possible
shelter from the coming rain.

CHAPTER XVIII.

AFTER THE STORM.

"Sure she's deserted, are you?" asked the cautious Teddy, as he followed
the other members of the little party aboard, the old Cree Indian guide
bringing up the rear.

"Not a sign of any living thing here," came the answer, as Ned peered
about.

"Sometimes, I understand, that you can run across all sorts of horrible
sights on one of these same wrecks," continued Teddy. "Sailors get
drowned, you know, down in the hold or in the forecastle. I hope we
don't discover anything like that now. I never did fancy sights as
ghastly as that."

"And I don't think you need bother your head about it," Ned told him,
"because, in the first place, this wreck has been here quite some time;
and, then again, you can see that wreckers have been aboard and stripped
nearly all the iron and brass and copper out, because it was valuable.
Perhaps there may be some Esquimaux living along the shore of Hudson
Bay; or else it was the men up at the mine who did it. What we want to
do is to find out what state the cabin happens to be in. A dry roof
would be about the best we could ask to-day."

They made a rush toward the stairs that led down, which in most vessels
would be known as the companionway. A shout went up as they looked into
the cabin. It was almost destitute of anything that might serve as a
comfort, but a broken stove gave promise of a fire, with all the delight
that this carried in its train.

"We bunk here, all right," said Frank, as soon as he had sighted that
stove; it was really a sorry object, but then everything depends on the
conditions surrounding one when rendering judgment--at home, they would
have never given such a dilapidated thing house room; but shipwrecked
mariners are not likely to be critical, and that broken stove was still
capable of carrying fire.

"Get busy with your hatchets, those who have them, and lay in a supply
of wood for burning," Jack called out, suiting his own actions to the
words, and beginning to chop away vigorously.

"I don't suppose it matters a cent where you bang," remarked Jimmy,
following the example set by the other scout; "and if we stay here long
enough, we might burn up the whole bally ship. All she's good for,
anyhow, to give a bunch of fellers that have lost their blankets a lift
in a rain storm. Whack away, boys; nobody ain't goin' to say a word
what you do, only