outhward for Unalaska.

The cutter was within half a day's steaming of the port when the radio
began to buzz and buzz loudly, answering the call of a vessel in
distress off Chirikof Island. As the steamer was known to be carrying a
number of passengers, thus endangered, the _Bear_ did not stop at
Unalaska, but putting on full speed, arrived off Cape Sarichef
Lighthouse at 4 o'clock in the morning, proceeding through Unimak Pass
and Inside Passage. The naval radio station from Unalga Island confirmed
the report, but could give no further details.

Under full speed the _Bear_ reached the scene of the disaster the next
day. Of the vessel, _Oregon Queen_, not a sign could be seen, but, save
for three persons, all the crew and passengers were safe on Chirikof
Island. They were almost without food, however--many of them
insufficiently clad and utterly destitute. As the _Oregon Queen_ had
been bound for St. Paul, Kodiak Island, and a large number of the
passengers could depend upon assistance there, the _Bear_ picked them
up, and the day following, despite extraordinary weather conditions,
landed them at St. Paul. Little did the shipwrecked men realize that
they had only escaped one danger to be imperilled by another.

"Homer," said Eric to his friend the following afternoon, as the _Bear_
lay outside the barge _St. James_ at the wharf at St. Paul, "what do you
make of that cloud to the sou'west'ard?"

"Snow," was the terse reply.

"I don't," the boy objected. "It's a mighty queer-looking sort of cloud.
It doesn't look a bit like anything I've ever seen before."

"There's lots of things you've never seen," was his friend's reply.

"That's one of them," the boy answered gravely, not at all in his
friend's jovial vein. "But I don't think it's snow. There's something
awfully queer about it. Gives me the shivers, somehow! It looks too
solid for snow!"

Minutes passed. Little by little a curious feeling of unrest began to
spread over the ship. The sailors stopped in their work to glance up at
the strange and menacing cloud. Its edges were black with an orange
fringing, and as clean cut as though it were some gigantic plate being
moved across the sky. In the distance there was a low rumble, as of
thunder.

The portent rose slowly. Almost an hour passed before the cloud was
half-way up the zenith. Shortly before two bells in the first dog watch,
Eric, passing his hand along the rail, realized that it was covered
with a fin