look! There are four others! They're the trader's dogs. Ran away when the
place burned, I haven't a doubt. Barney, run and get some wolf meat.
We'll have a team at once. And we'll need it. Can't move the plane
without it."

They were soon on good terms with the strange dogs. The Major, who
appeared to know all there was to know about Arctic life, fashioned some
Eskimo style harness from wolfskin, and before many hours they had their
plane by the edge of the woods, and were settled in their new home.

That night, after they had enjoyed reindeer steak as a special treat,
the Major rather playfully put the receiving piece of the wireless over
his head and clicked the machine. Almost instantly, he exclaimed:

"Jove! I'm getting something! Give me a note-book and pencil."

For fifteen minutes he scratched strange dots and dashes across
innumerable pages. At last he paused and removed the receiver.

"Guess that's about all for this time. Let's see what we've got."

Three heads bent over the message. But, after hours of study, the only
conclusion they could come to was that the message had been sent in a
secret code, which they might never be able to decipher.

"Well," said the Major, with a sigh. "Station's closed for to-night.
Tell the gentleman to call again in the morning." At that he crept
into his sleeping-bag and was soon snoring. The two boys gladly
followed his example.