“I am very sorry,” began Mr. Ryder, “but――”
“Don’t say that you have gone and lost it again!” cried the commander of the _Phoca_, with a comical aspect of despair.
“No; but I am inclined to think that it was again stolen. You see, just then Mr. Coombs appeared; and, in the confusion of the moment, I thrust the tooth into an inside overcoat-pocket, and for some time thought no more about it. I lunched that day on board the _Norsk_, a German steamer that happened to be in port. While at the table I happened to relate the history of the fur-seal’s tooth up to date, and, as the captain expressed a desire to see it, I directed the Japanese table-boy to fetch my overcoat, which was hanging in a state-room. He did so, but, to my great mortification, I found that I had again allowed the tooth to slip through my hands. It had disappeared, nor have I since heard from it. The _Norsk_ left Oonalaska that evening, and the next day we came here, only to meet with the disappointment of which you have already learned. The only thing we have discovered is a fragment of the note left by Mr. Coombs for the boys. As it was at a distance from the hut, and badly chewed, we concluded that the foxes got it instead of those for whom it was intended.”
“Well,” exclaimed Captain Matthews, “it is a mighty interesting yarn, and I wish you every good-fortune in your search for those boys. If you’ll take my advice, though, you’ll start for the Pribyloffs just as quick as the wind will allow, for they are as slippery as cats, and there’s no knowing what they’ll be up to next. In the meantime I’ll jog back to Sitka, and leave you to bring them along as soon as wind, tide, and accidents will allow.”
The little _Philomel_ had a hard time getting to the Pribyloff Islands. She was buffeted by head-winds and forced to sail nearly one hundred miles out of her course by a gale. Then she became involved in such mazes of fog and perplexity that ten full days elapsed before she finally entered the region of screaming sea-fowl, and her people knew that the seal islands were at hand. Soon afterwards a lifting fog disclosed the low dark coast-line of St. Paul, which, forbidding as it appeared, gladdened Mr. John Ryder’s eyes as though it had been the fairest scene on earth. Was not his boy there? And would not a few more hours see them reunited? He fondly hoped so, and in spite of his many disappointments could not believe that another was in store for him. No; Phil must be here, of course. It was not likely that he had been offered a chance of getting away, and even if he had he was pretty certain to have waited for the _Phoca’s_ promised return. So it was with a heart full of joyful anticipations that Mr. John Ryder finally landed at the village of St. Paul.