ging northern waters,
stroked his grizzled beard reflectively.

"Bad characters, eh?" he twinkled. "Well, no, I shouldn't say as they
were. They're fair-weather lads. I'll vouch for them if necessary, and I
guess I'm about the only person on board that knows who they are."

Tad waited expectantly until the skipper came to the point of the story
he was telling.

"They are the Gold Diggers of Taku Pass, lad."

"The Gold Diggers of Taku Pass?" repeated Tad Butler. "I don't think I
ever heard that name before. Where is this pass, sir?"

The skipper shook his head.

"No one knows," he said.

"That is strange," wondered Butler. "Does no one know where they dig for
gold?"

"No. They don't even know themselves," was the puzzling reply.

Tad fixed the weather-beaten face of the skipper with a questioning
gaze.

"I don't think I understand, sir."

"I'll tell you what I know about it some other time, lad. I haven't the
time to spin the yarn now. It's a long one. I've been sailing up and
down these waters, fair weather and foul, for a good many years, and
I've seen a fair cargo of strange things in my time, but this Digger
outfit is the most peculiar one I ever came across. They are a living
example of what the lure of gold means when it gets into a man's system.
Gold is all right. I wish I had more of it; but, my boy, don't ever let
the love of it get to the windward of you if you hope to enjoy peace of
mind afterwards," concluded the skipper with emphasis.

"What's that he says about gold?" interjected Stacy Brown, more commonly
known to his companions as Chunky, the fat boy.

Stacy, with Ned Rector and Walter Perkins, had been lounging against the
starboard rail of the "Corsair," observing Tad and the Captain as they
talked. A few paces forward sat Professor Zepplin, their traveling
companion, wholly absorbed in a scientific discussion with an engineer
who was on his way to an Alaskan mine, of which the latter was to assume
control. Many other passengers were strolling about the decks of the
"Corsair." There were seasoned miners with bearded faces; sharp-eyed,
sharp-featured men with shifty eyes; pale-faced prospectors on their way
to the land of promise, in quest of the yellow metal; capitalists going
to Alaska to look into this or that claim with a view to investment;
and, more in evidence than all the rest, a large list of tourists bound
up the coast on a merry holiday. The former, in most instances, were
qui