A scream rent the air.

With a spring, Johnny was on his feet, just in time to see one of the figures drop. In the dim light he could not tell which one. He stood there motionless. It had all happened so quickly that he was stunned into inactivity.

In that brief moment bedlam broke loose. The Mongol chief sprang from behind his curtain. Other Mongols, deserting all night games of chance, came swarming in on all sides. Their jargon was unintelligible. Johnny could not tell them what had happened, even had he rightly known.

The fallen man was dragged out upon the snow, where his blood made a rapidly spreading dark circle on the crystal whiteness. He was dead beyond a doubt.

Slowly the group settled in a dense ring about some one who was talking rapidly. Evidently the survivor of the tragedy was explaining. Was it the interpreter or the other? Johnny could not crowd close enough to tell.

He flashed his electric torch upon the fallen body. The sight of the hilt protruding from the chest, over the heart, gave Johnny a start. His interpreter had won. It was his knife that had made the fatal thrust. The dead man was undoubtedly Oriental and not a member of the Mongolian tribe.

That knife! Johnny started. How had this person come into possession of that blade which he had given to Cio-Cio-San? That Cio-Cio-San would not give it away, he was certain. What then had happened? Had it been stolen from her, or was this strange interpreter, who had doubtless just now saved his life, Cio-Cio-San herself? It seemed unbelievable, yet his mind clung to the theory. He would soon know.

Slowly the crowd dispersed. The killing of an Oriental in such a camp as this was merely an incident in the life of the tribe, a thing soon to be forgotten. Two servants of the chief bore the body away. Once more Johnny found himself sitting in the triangle with his interpreter and the Mongol.

In his hands he held two knives; one he had drawn from the heart of the dead man and had cleansed in the snow; the other was the one dropped by the murderer. This last one evidently had been meant for him.

The Mongol was profuse in his apologies, while he lauded to the sky the bravery of the little interpreter. The slain man, he explained, was no member of his company. He was one of three who had camped on the outer edge of the village that very night. Doubtless they had followed Johnny with the purpose of murdering and robbing him. He had sent at once for the other two men, but they had fled. He hoped now that his guests might sleep in peace.

After delivering this message, he bowed himself back through the curtains.

Johnny and the interpreter were left alone. It was a dramatic moment. The interpreter's fingers twitched nervously. Once the brown eyes fell upon the knives Johnny held, but instantly they flashed away. Johnny had drawn a freshly lighted fish-oil lamp to his side.

"Friend," said he in a low tone, "you have done me a great service this night. Will you do me but one more?"

"Gladly, most gracious one."

The small head bent low.

"Allow me." Johnny took one of the brown hands, and began rolling up the loose sleeve of the brown-skin parka. The brown face blanched a trifle. He uncovered a sleeve of pink silk, and beneath that a slender brown arm. On the arm, a finger's length beneath the elbow, was a triangular scar.

Johnny sighed, then carefully rolling down the sleeve, dropped the hand.

"It is enough," he smiled, "you are my old and very dear friend, Cio-Cio-San. You have to-night added greatly to the debt of grat.i.tude which I owe you and can never repay. But why did you come? And why, most of all, are you in disguise? Why are you in Russia at all? Why not in your beloved j.a.pan?"

Cio-Cio-San sighed as if relieved at feeling the mask removed.

"I came to Russia to find a very dear relative who had lived with my family in the interior of Russia before this revolution came upon us. I met Mazie; your so good friend. She pressed me into her service. Who could refuse? I was glad to be of help.

"Then, because there was no j.a.panese man who could speak for you to the Mongols, she asked me to go. And, because it is unsafe for a woman to go on such a journey, undisguised, I dressed as a man. So, there you have it all. I am glad you know, you are a man of great honor. You will not tell others. You will protect me from them." There was no question in her voice.

Johnny put out his hand in silence. Her small brown one rested in his for a moment.

Then in drowsy silence they sat by the sputtering lamp until the tinkle of bell, the clatter of harness, the shout of drivers, and the distant lowing of cattle, told them it was another day.

That day's business was quickly brought to a close. Before the sun was high in the heavens, Johnny found himself once more tucked beside his interpreter in the cutter, slowly following his Russians, who drove a splendid herd of cattle over the snow-clad fields and hard-packed roads toward Vladivostok. Johnny owned that herd. Soon it would be supplying nourishment to the hungry little ones.

The return journey was crowded with recollections of other days, of those days when he and Cio-Cio-San had followed the glistening trail to the far Northland. But, as the spires of the cathedral in the city loomed up to greet him, Johnny's mind was filled with many wonderings and not a few misgivings. He was coming to the city of eastern Russia which more than any other had seen revolt and counter-revolt, pillage and sudden death. In that city now, starvation and disease stalked unmolested. In that city, the wary j.a.panese military police maintained order while many a rampant radical lurked in a corner to slay any who did not believe in his gospel of unlimited freedom and license. Into that city Johnny must go. Every man in it craved gold and food, and Johnny had both. He would use it for the good of the sufferers, if he was given time. But those who rob and kill, do not wait. He was troubled about Mazie. He had trusted gold to her care.

Had he acted unwisely; subjected her to needless perils?

He thought of the Oriental who had attempted to take his life back there in the Mongol's camp. There had been a strong resemblance between this man and the band of men who had attempted to rob Mine No. 1. Had they secured reindeer and made their way to Vladivostok? If so, they would dog his trail, using every foul means to regain possession of the gold. And Mazie?

If they had entered the city, had they discovered that part of the gold was in her hands? He shivered at the thought of it.

At last, leaving the cattle in a great yard, surrounded by a stone fence, some five miles from the outskirts, he drove hurriedly into Vladivostok.

CHAPTER XIV

NEARING THE CITY OF GOLD

The creature for which Dave had gone on a double-quick hunt, after the balloon had landed on the desert island, was a reindeer. He had probably crossed over on a solid floe from the mainland. It was his last crossing.

Soon Dave came back dragging two hundred pounds of fresh meat behind him.

"No more 'gold fish' in cans," he exulted. "No more evaporated milk and pickled egg. We eat, Jarvis, we eat!"

"That's fine," smiled Jarvis, "but what's all the words you been spillin'

about this bein' America?"

"Oh!" laughed Dave. "That was something of a joke, though this island really does belong to old U.S.A. Captain DeLong, an American, whose ship was crushed in the ice near this island, was its first discoverer. He claimed it in the name of his country and christened it Bennett Island. It says that in the message he left in his cairn. But that don't feed us. I'm starved. There's driftwood on the beach. C'mon."

Soon they were roasting strips of delicious venison over a crackling fire.

Supper over, they lay down with faces to the fire and talked over prospects for the future. The stranger was with them, but had little to say. He seemed puzzled at the unusual circ.u.mstances of the journey and was constantly asking when they would return to the native village at the mouth of the river.

"Evidently," said Dave, after a long and fruitless attempt to draw from him any account of his life with the Orientals in the mine, "the rap he received on his head blotted out all memory of those days. If we can't get that particular stretch of memory in working order, we may never know how Frank Langlois was killed, nor who it was that sent us strange messages on phonographic records and moving-picture films. I'm hoping his memory'll come back. A sudden shock may bring it round at any time."

Their conference regarding the future resulted in a determination to wait for a change of wind which would insure them a safe trip to the mainland.

In the meantime, Dave would prepare the chemicals for immediate inflation of the balloon and Jarvis would study over the j.a.panese puzzle of a gasoline engine which would not respond to his touch.

Jarvis' work netted nothing. Three days later an onsh.o.r.e wind arose, and the balloon, wafted upward on its gentle crest, brought the explorers back to the mainland.

"Land! Land! And the City of Gold!" exclaimed Jarvis, as the evening clouds lifted and gave them a momentary view of that strange golden gleam which for so long had haunted their dreams.

Once before, many months ago, the two of them had neared the spot on an ocean craft, but duty to marooned comrades had called them back. Now they had only themselves to think of, and the City of Gold, if city it be, would offer to them a haven of refuge.

What wonder that their hearts beat wildly as they caught its gleam and realized that in a very few moments they would be landing within a quarter of a mile of that mysterious city, which, according to the natives whom they had met long ago, did really exist as a place of many people and much gold.

"Pull the cord! Pull the cord!" shouted Jarvis excitedly. "We're nearin'

sh.o.r.e."

He had spoken the truth. As Dave gripped the cord attached to the gas valve on the balloon and in his imagination heard the hiss of escaping gas and felt the drop of the balloon, his thoughts sobered. After all, what did they know about these strange people? What sort of treatment would they receive from them? If they landed they might, in less than an hour, be dead. Might it not be better to allow the balloon to rise and to attempt a journey back to some Russian town? But instantly he realized that this gale which was coming would carry them to the heart of Bolsheviki Russia. What chance would they have there?

"Pull the cord! Pull the cord!" insisted Jarvis.

Mechanically, Dave's hand came down. The hiss of air was followed by the sagging drop of the car. The die had been cast.

For an hour, after admitting the white man's dog to his secret mine, Pant sat listening for any sound that might tell of his discovery. After this, heaving a sigh of relief, he turned at once to the work that lay before him. He realized that whatever he did must be done soon.