While Phil and his companions were chafing at the delay imposed upon them by the greed of the Chilkat Shaman a government vessel arrived in the neighboring inlet of Chilkoot, bearing a party of scientific men who were to cross the mountains at that point for an exploration of the upper Yukon, and the locating of the boundary line between Alaska and Canada. The Princess, learning of its presence, and despairing of assisting her white friends in any other way, secretly despatched a messenger to the Captain of the ship with the information that some Americans were being detained in Klukwan against their will. Upon receipt of this news the Captain promptly steamed around into Chilkat Inlet and as near to its head as the draught of his vessel would allow. As he dropped anchor, there came such a sound of firing from up the river that he imagined a fight to be in progress, and fired one of his own big guns to give warning of his presence. The effect of this dread message was instantaneous. Phil Ryder dropped his uplifted arm. The Chilkat Shaman scuttled away, issued an order, and within five minutes a new and perfectly equipped canoe was marvellously produced from somewhere and tendered to Serge Belcofsky. Five minutes later he and his companions had taken a grateful leave of the Princess, and were embarked with all their effects, including the three dogs. Phil stationed himself in the bow, Serge tended sheet, and Jalap Coombs steered. As before the prevailing northerly wind their long-beaked canoe shot out from the river into the wider waters of the inlet, and they saw, at anchor, less than one mile away, a handsome cutter flying the United States revenue flag, the three friends uttered a simultaneous cry of, "The _Phoca_!" "Hurrah!" yelled Phil. "Hurrah!" echoed Serge. "Bless her pretty picter!" roared Jalap Coombs, standing up and waving the old tarpaulin hat that, though often eclipsed by a fur hood, had been faithfully cherished during the entire journey. At that moment one of the cutter's boats, in command of a strange Lieutenant, with a howitzer mounted in its bow, and manned by a dozen heavily armed sailors, hailed the canoe and shot alongside. "What's the trouble up the river?" demanded the officer. "There isn't any," answered Serge. "What was all the firing about?" "Celebrating some sort of native Fourth of July. Is Captain Matthews still in command of the _Phoca_?" "Yes. Does he know you?" "I rather guess he does, and, with your permission, we'll report to him in person." "Pull up the hoods of your parkas," said Phil to his companions, "and we'll give the Captain a surprise party." A minute later one of the _Phoca_'s Quartermasters reported to the Captain that a canoe-load of natives was almost alongside. "Very well; let them come aboard, and I'll hear what they have to say."