In this thrilling adventure, Rick and Scotty travel up to Hudson Bay as guests of the Canadian Wildlife Service to test Rick's new tracking collar system on the famed Hudson Bay area polar bears. Strange events begin to plague the boys even before t...
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PHOTO above - North American indigenous mask
The boys burst out of the old cabin, Scotty jutting the rifle this way and that as they momentarily stopped to gape around the clearing. His eyes squinted at the corners in anticipation and there was a sneering twist to his mouth. But the clearing was empty, there was nothing to be seen of the strange man who had appeared at the window other than the tracks in the snow he had left behind. They were snowshoe tracks and led up to the window, then back again across the clearing to the caribou trail.
Scotty cautiously sidled over to the tracks to investigate as Rick moved forward a little, arms and fists out in front of him in readiness for action. He peered into the gloomy woods surrounding them in search of intruders, but the bush was silent, not a sound to be heard. Still, he couldn't shake off the feeling that someone had their eyes on them.
"Can't tell much by these tracks." Scotty was stooping over to get a better look. "Just a man wearing snowshoes. He looked like a really weird Eskimo."
Rick watched the deep shadows of the forest, but they remained stationary, no movement betrayed a hidden presence. He scowled at the quiet stillness. "Yeah, a really weird-looking Eskimo," he agreed. "Who just might be rounding up more really weird-looking Eskimos at this very moment. We may soon be attacked by a whole gang of them."
Scotty regarded him with a questioning smile. "Do you really think the Eskimos up this way will attack us?"
Rick shrugged. "Why not? French and English Canadians have attacked us. Why not native people? I feel like Pierre - we can't trust anyone."
"Then we'd better vamoose," Scotty conceded, "before they get back. They'd probably capture us and send us on another Voyage of No Return. This one on an ice floe in the Arctic sea, wearing only our underwear."
Rick shuddered at the thought of it. He turned to walk back to the cabin. "You sure have an imagination."
Scotty gave a snort. "You don't need an imagination up this way. Everything is already as far out and over the top as it can possibly be."
Rick sent him an answering grin. "And remember? We thought nothing bad could possibly happen to us in Canada. Man, were we ever mistaken about that."
They reentered the old log cabin and retrieved the ammunition shells and Cherie's picture and letter, and put them into the pack-sack. Rick slung the old rifle over his shoulder by its strap.
"Monsieur LaMotte's diary!" he remembered. "Let's look for it. There's got to be clues in it about the Valley of the Lights."
Quickly they ransacked the shelves and the drawers of the old dresser and bureau. From one of the drawers Scotty pulled out a black leather-bound book that looked like a journal.
"Eureka! Found it!" he cried, after he had opened it. "And it's all in French and dated 1880. It's got to be what we're looking for."
He handed it to Rick who quickly perused the front pages of entries. "Right. It's written by Monsieur Yves LaMotte and he already mentions the Valley of the Lights on the second page. Guess I'll have some translating to do later." He tossed the book into the pack-sack, adding, "I ought to get special points in French class for all this on-the-spot experience. Come on, let's get going!"
