the latter filed into the charthouse, wide-eyed with expectation at the news they were confident they were to hear.
"Well," began Mr. Dacre, "I suppose you young men are anxious to know a good deal more about this voyage than you have yet been told?"
"Anxious is no word for it," rejoined Tom. "Sandy has even forgotten seasickness so that he can hear what you have to tell us."
"It will not take long. Mr. Chillingworth, here, is my partner in the enterprise on which we are bound. We are going to Alaska in search of foxes."
Had Mr. Dacre said that they were going to the moon in search of green cheese, the boys could not have looked more astonished.
"Foxes!" exclaimed Tom. "Just common foxes?"
"By no means. The kind we are after are silver grays and blacks. Mr. Chillingworth and I have decided to start raising them on his ranch. When I tell you that a good skin of a silver fox is worth anywhere from twenty-five hundred dollars upward, you will see why we have spent so muc