"

"Well, you wanted to know. What's the use in beating about the bush when
you want to know a thing. I believe in asking for what you want,"
protested Ned.

"So do I, but it isn't always best to go at it bald-headed. However,
never mind, Ned. I am now convinced that there would be little use in
asking Mr. Darwood questions in any circumstances. The instant you begin
to talk Alaska with that man he is going to shy off. He fears he might
be trapped into an admission, or else he thinks we are trying to pump
him for some other reason. You may be sure that others have tried to
draw him out, believing they might obtain information that he is
supposed to possess."

"They are a queer lot," muttered Ned. "Didn't the Captain say no one
knew anything about this gold pass, or whatever you call it?"

"Taku Pass? Yes. That is, he said few persons knew of it, but you may be
sure that the purpose of these men up here is known. There are plenty of
gentlemen waiting to beat those four into the land of golden promise. I
don't blame the Diggers for having their suspicions of everyone about
them. I wish I could convince them that we aren't that sort of people. I
like that fellow. I'd like to help him, too," mused Tad.

"I shouldn't. However, I'm sorry I put my foot in it," nodded Ned.

"You needn't be. See! We are running out of the swell now."

The steamer, soon coming under the lee of the islands, was steaming into
Fitzhugh Sound, where dangerous shoals menace the navigators of these
enchanting waters. Captain Petersen was now occupying the little bridge
just forward of the pilot house. His face was grim and set. The good
fellow was no longer present--it was now the master, bent upon attending
to his duties.

The sound is a slender waterway, extending directly northward fully
thirty miles, more entrancing, it seemed to the boys, than any other
water over which they had sailed. The Pony Rider Boys were having a
glorious passage into the far north where they were going in search of
new adventure. They were bound for the wildest and most remote section
of Uncle Sam's domain, where they hoped to spend the summer months.

Now that the waters had become more quiet, Stacy Brown slowly dragged
himself from the shadow of the life-boat and stood gripping the gunwale.
After getting his head leveled somewhat he walked unsteadily to his
companions who were leaning on the steamer's rail regarding him with
smiling faces.

"Sick?" questioned