by Roy J. Snell
CHAPTER XII THE VOICE SPEAKS
The tiny clock that ticked away cheerfully in the corner of the cabinindicated that a full hour had gone by, and Johnny and Sandy sat by thefire awaiting the moving of the spirit that was to restore animation tothe motionless figure lumped over in the chair.
To Johnny, who was accustomed to action and plenty of it, this seemed astrange procedure. A bit spooky it was, too. Night lay silent over all.Only the dull glow of a half-dead fire lighted the room. From time totime a log, burned to glowing charcoal, would break and fall. For amoment after, strangely grotesque shadows would dance upon the wall. Thenthey, too, would lapse into inactivity.
At last the figure in the corner stirred. A bony hand outstretched seemedto beckon. Sandy knew the meaning of this. All the time the great coffeepot had stood just close enough to the fire to simmer low. Now he poureda steaming cup and passed it to the outstretched hand.
"See!" came in a hollow, cracked voice after the cup had been drained."See many strange things, me."
"Ah!" Johnny thought to himself, not daring to stir, "The oracle speaks."
"See Devil Bird," the Voice went on. "See two Devil Birds."
"He means airplanes," Johnny told himself. "Devil Birds belong to Indianlegends. Airplanes are like them."
"One Devil Bird," the Voice droned on, "gray like clouds on a day of slowrain. No marks. No, none. No white man's writing."
"The gray outlaw," Johnny breathed.
Sandy placed a hand on his arm for silence.
"Other Devil Bird plenty marks," the Voice went on. "This one follow graylike a cloud Devil Bird. Go fast. Both, very, very fast. One go. Onefollow."
"That will be Curlie chasing the 'Gray Streak.'" Johnny's lips barelymoved. "How does it end?"
"See storm," the Voice continued. "Gray storm. Plenty wind. Plenty cold.Plenty snow. Gray Devil Bird not stop. Lost in cloud. Other Devil Birdturn back. Run. Run very fast. Storm follow very fast."
Johnny sat forward, scarcely daring to breathe.
"One hour, two hour, three, four, big race, cloud chase Devil Bird. DevilBird fly fast.
"Bye-um-bye," the Voice lost his animation, "bye-um-bye all right. FortChipewyan. All right."
"Curlie is safe. But what about the 'Gray Streak'?" Johnny was about toask the question aloud when the pressure of Sandy's arm stopped him.
For some time after that the Voice was silent. Sandy cast some bits ofdry sprucewood on the fire. It flared up and for a time the place was asbright as day. When it had died down the Voice spoke again.
"See girl, white man's girl. White man, too, much white hair. See threewhite man, not too old."
"That," thought Johnny, "will be the party who are trying to beat us inthe discovery of minerals by using the films stolen from Sandy and hispartner." He frowned. It hurt him to feel that his one-time pals, JoyceMills and her father, now belonged to a rival camp. That this was due tono fault of theirs he realized clearly.
As he closed his eyes now he seemed to see the girl, Joyce Mills, as hehad seen her on that day when, after their final battle with a greatcity's crime, she had asked:
"When do we go back?"
They had stood then on a rickety little dock before a deserted cabin onthe shore of Lake Huron.
How well he recalled his own answer: "We don't go back. We go on into thesilent North, perhaps. It may be that we shall find a land where men arejust and merciful and kind."
"I said that," he told himself. As he looked back upon it now, thatremark seemed near to prophecy, for were they not now in the far North?
"There is a destiny that shapes our ends, rough-hew them though we may,"he thought to himself.
Ah, yes, they were in the North. Yet, how different it all was from whathe had dreamed! He had dreamed of working by her father's side, ofsharing with him and with the girl who held a central place in both theirhearts the joys and the privations of a strange new land.
"And now this!" he thought grimly.
But the Voice spoke once more. "See girl. See dog team. See much danger."
Once more Johnny leaned forward.
"See--see--" The Voice grew faint. "See dim. See not at all."
Johnny started to his feet. Sandy pulled him back. Once more the fireflared up, then again died away.
"See bird." The Voice rose high. "Strange bird. Not Devil Bird. Bird, howyou say? Like raven. So big. No croaks. No black. Gray like clouds whensun not yet up. Fly, fly fast, that bird. Fly far. Not sing, that bird.White man keep in box. White man let him out, say: 'Fly away! Flystraight!' Fly far, that one."
"Must be a carrier pigeon," Johnny thought to himself. "But who wouldhave a pigeon in such a land?"
Two minutes of silence. Sandy cast more tinder on the fire. The lightflared up. Johnny started and stared. The figure was no longer in thecorner. He fully expected the Voice to drone on. It did not. The Voicehad slipped silently from the room, into the night.
A few moments later, as Johnny stood looking away at the glimmering fieldof white that was the frozen lake, he murmured two words:
"Moccasin Telegraph." Then he turned back into the house.
And that is how it came about that Johnny and Sandy sat for an hourbefore their fire telling one another all they knew about carrier pigeonsand speculating on their possible use in this frozen land.
"I read," said Johnny, "an article in some paper telling of the manner inwhich blackmailers used carrier pigeons. They sent a pigeon with a demandfor money to some wealthy man. The money was to be attached to the bird'sleg and the bird was to be freed. Detectives in airplanes tried followingthe pigeons."
"Think they could?" asked Sandy.
"Who knows?" For a time after that they were silent. At last Sandy yawnedas he rumbled, "Time for three winks."
Johnny did not get his three winks until he had put many thoughts ofairplanes, carrier pigeons, gold, radium and old-time friends to rest.But at last sleep came, and before he knew it there was a new day.
