On the Edge of the Arctic; Or, An Aeroplane in Snowland

by H. L. Sayler

  CHAPTER XII

  BREASTING A BLIZZARD IN AN AIRSHIP

  When Roy turned over his half dozen telegrams to Colonel Howell, the twoboys saw that the messages were of some significance. A little later theysaw their patron reading them a second time. But when the beefsteaksupper was served he seemed to have forgotten business. But that was onlyhis way. When the prospector had reached his after-dinner cigar, he saidabruptly:

  "So you say everything went all right!"

  "Like taking a buggy ride," answered Norman. "Don't you want us to gooftener? If it wasn't for using up the gas, there isn't any reason why weshouldn't meet each mail stage."

  "I'm glad o' that," answered Colonel Howell, smiling. "I'd like to haveyou take a telegram over for me in the morning and wait for an answer."

  "Don't you think I can go in this time?" asked Paul at once.

  The other boys gave him no heed for a moment.

  "We could go to-night," volunteered Norman, "if you like."

  "That wouldn't do any good," answered the colonel. "You probably couldn'tget the operator. I'll be more than satisfied if you duplicate to-day'strip--except as to the meat," he added. "We've enough of that for somedays."

  Paul sat in suppressed excitement.

  "I don't want to butt in," he urged in the pause that followed; "but Iwant to help all I can. You don't need to be afraid--"

  The boys could not resist a glance toward the bunk house door, where theywell knew that Paul's embarrassing box still stood intact. And bothNorman and Roy flushed.

  "You can go," announced Norman instantly. "You won't be afraid!"

  "Only afraid of disappointing Roy," answered the elated Paul.

  The latter was disappointed, but he gave no sign of it and when he smiledand waved his hand, the thing was settled.

  "I've been holding an option on a fine piece of oil property near Elgin,Kansas," the colonel began in explanation, "and I had forgotten that thelimit was about to expire. Several of these telegrams are from my agent,who tells me we must have the property. The telegrams are now over threeweeks old and I've just got two days in which to get word to him to buy."

  "Write your message to-night," suggested Norman, "for we'll get away alittle earlier in the morning, since we've got to wait for an answer."

  The second flight to Athabasca Landing was of course Paul's firstexperience in an airship. For some time he was subdued and Norman couldsee his tense fingers gripping the edge of the cockpit. But whenassurance came to him, he made up for his preliminary apprehension andwas soon taking impossible pictures of the far-away hills and treesbeneath him.

  Reaching the landing place on the Athabasca Hills, Paul at once said:

  "I s'pose you'd feel better if you looked after the telegrams yourself.I'll stay with the machine."

  This was the program Norman had outlined but when the suggestion camefrom the young Austrian himself, Norman had not the courage to humiliatehis companion with such a plain indication of his fear. Withouthesitation, he answered:

  "What are you talking about? Nothing like that now! Besides, I want tolook over the engine. You go and attend to things--I'll be here when youget back."

  A little after twelve o'clock, a boy arrived from the other side of theriver, carrying Norman's dinner in a basket. The messenger was from theAlberta Hotel and he also carried a note from Paul announcing that noanswer had yet been received to Colonel Howell's telegram.

  As the afternoon wore slowly away, Norman became more and moreapprehensive. It was nearly six o'clock when Paul came in sight,breathless and exhausted from his rapid climb up the hill. Norman couldnot resist a sigh of relief when he saw that the delay was not due to anynew indiscretion of the young Austrian.

  "I don't blame you," panted Paul, "and I bet you've been sweating blood.I don't deserve anything else, but you're going to save a lot of time ifyou'll just forget what I used to be. I ain't going to make any promises,but I'll show all of you that I'm not what you all thought I was."

  Norman only smiled, but he gave his young friend a look of sympathy. Thenhe announced a little variation in the general plan.

  "We're so late now that it's goin' to be dark before we get back and alittle further delay won't do any harm. Just back of the new H. B.Company store I remember there's quite an open space on the other side ofthe town. We're flying pretty light and I think we'll cross the river,make a landing there, and get a couple of tins of gasoline. We want anextra supply on hand."

  This flight was easily accomplished but it involved an experience thatNorman had not anticipated. Having made a safe landing, while he visitedthe trading post and arranged to have oil delivered at once, nearlyeveryone in Athabasca Landing seemed to learn of the arrival of theairship. When he came riding back to the monoplane, in the deliverywagon, the _Gitchie Manitou_ was the center of a mob of curious people.The sergeant of police was there, as well as the people from the hotel.It was impossible to leave at once. Politeness demanded decent replies tomany inquiries but Norman almost felt repaid when he noted that this wasthe first meeting during the day between Paul and his old friend, theMounted Policeman.

  Yet, in the midst of the general greeting, the boys finally took theirleave. As they swung over the city and the river, the mist was beginningto rise from the latter. For a part of the return trip at least, Normanknew that he would have to resort to his compass or to the guidance ofthe varying air currents that marked the river course at night.

  For several days in the latter part of August there had been nightlyfrosts. Then there had been a short spell of warm weather and this nightthe boys could see that cool weather was rapidly approaching. As themonoplane winged its way into the gathering gloom and the crisp eveningpassed into dusk, the body of the _Gitchie Manitou_ grew wet with colddew. After dark, this began to turn into frost. Paul was able to wrap alight blanket about himself, but Norman, with no relief present, stuck tohis post, protected only by his gloves and sweater.

  As it was impossible to make out the course of the river from anydistance, he had to defy the air currents in the rather hazardous lightbetween the high river banks. It was far from the even flight made duringthe day in the sunlight, and again Norman could see his companiongripping the edge of the cockpit. There was little conversation, and inorder to divert his companion, Norman manufactured a job for Paul byassigning to him the duty of watching the engine revolution gauge and thechronometer.

  As Paul flashed the bulbs, throwing their little shaded lights on theseinstruments, and sang out the reading every few moments, Norman could notresist a smile. He read both instruments each time as quickly as hisassistant.

  About eleven thirty, the sun having now wholly disappeared, Norman'slong-waiting ear caught the unmistakable roar of the head of the GrandRapids. From this place, he had a compass bearing to Fort McMurray, andhe could have predicted their arrival at the camp almost within minutes.

  "You can take it easy now," he suggested to Paul. "We're practicallyhome."

  When the roar of the Rapids finally ceased, the river fog clearedsomewhat and, with the help of the stars, the outline of the river becameplainer below.

  "How much longer?" asked Paul in a tired tone.

  "We've been coming pretty slow," was Norman's cheery response. "We'll hither up a bit. It's forty miles to the camp, but we'll save a little bycutting out the big bend. See if I ain't there in three-quarters of anhour."

  "I'd think they'd have a light for us."

  "If they're all asleep," answered Norman.

  But they were not asleep. Some apprehension on the part of even Roy hadkept him and the colonel wide awake. When it grew dark and the monoplanehad not returned, he made a fire of cordwood and during the long eveningrenewed it constantly. At half past one the _Gitchie Manitou_ concludedits second successful trip.

  The answer brought to Colonel Howell, in response to his telegram,appeared to be highly satisfactory to that gentleman. As he read it inthe light of Roy's poplar wood signal fire, he remarked:

>   "I told you young men that you didn't know how much you might be worth tome. If I hadn't made good on that option, there's no way to tell what Imight have lost. I wouldn't let go the deal I made to-day for twenty-fivethousand dollars."

  "I'm sorry I didn't have anything to do with it," exclaimed the benumbedPaul, "but I'm glad I got a ride at last."

  Colonel Howell opened his mouth as if to make reply and then checkedhimself with a smile. The words behind his lips were: "And a month agoyou'd have probably spoiled any deal you had a finger in."

  "You had as much to do with it as anyone," Norman suggested aloud. Thenhe laughed and added: "But you mustn't work so hard. Look at your hands."

  Paul opened his yet clenched fingers and held them before the snappingblaze. The palm of each hand bore traces of blood.

  "That's where I lifted her over the high places," he said with a laugh ofhis own. "But look, it's dry. I ain't been doing it for some time."

  This night was the real beginning of the colder weather. When they wereable, in late July, Ewen and Miller had sacrificed a few potatoes out oftheir store to plant a patch of this vegetable. During August the littlegarden had thriven and was at last in full bloom. But this night, to thekeen disappointment of all, the creamy blossoms fell a victim to thefirst blighting frost. From now on, while the days were even sunnier andoften quite warm, the nights rapidly grew colder and each morning therewere increasing frosts.

  For two weeks preliminary to the removal of the derrick to the betterprospect, the arm of the drill pounded ceaselessly up and down all day.There were small accidents that frequently delayed the work, but noresult other than dulled drills and the accumulation of promising-lookingsand and rock.

  The hunting trips also continued and moose now became very plentiful.Philip, the cook and hunter, did not always accompany the boys onshooting trips, as the half-breed had joined Ewen and Miller in the workon the well.

  The airship was safely housed, as if for the winter. The third week inSeptember came in with a lessening in the daily sunshine. A haze began tohang over the river valley and a murkiness now and then took the place ofthe keen and clear atmosphere. The evenings had grown so cool thatconsiderable attention was being given the fire in the living room.

  On an evening such as this, while Colonel Howell and his young assistantsstood on the riverbank, watching the red sun turn to silver gray, ColonelHowell exclaimed:

  "By our calendar, the fall's coming along a little early. And judging bythe trees over there and the nip in the air, we're going to have someweather before long. Maybe not for several days, but it's on its way.Before it gets here, why not make another trip to the Landing and see ifthere's anything at the post office?"

  "All letters ready at five in the morning," announced Norman impulsively."Mail for Athabasca Landing, Edmonton, Calgary and points south leaves atthat time."

  "Better bring a little more beef this time," suggested the colonel with alaugh, "and anything else that looks tasty and you've got room for."

  "I guess I've had all that's coming to me," suggested Paul. "Don't thinkI'm afraid. Whenever you want a helper," he went on, addressing Norman,"don't fail to call on me."

  "I guess we won't make many more trips this season!" put in Roy, but inthat he was mistaken. The trip made the next day was memorable, but twomore that were to be made later were more than that, and the last one wascertainly ample justification for Colonel Howell's daring introduction ofthe monoplane into these silent places of the North.

  Shortly before five o'clock the next morning, in spite of an ominous graysky and a new sound of the wind in the trees, Norman and Roy were off ontheir three hundred mile flight. They planned a short stay at the Landingand upon reaching camp again before the shortening day was at an end.They carried in the cockpit their Mackinaw jackets and their winter caps.Philip also prepared a cold luncheon to be eaten on the return trip, thussaving time at the Athabasca stop.

  Early on their outward flight, for a time the red sun made an effort toget through the clouds, but after nine o'clock had wholly disappeared andthe temperature began to fall. An almost imperceptible fine dry snowappeared, but it was not enough to interfere with the conduct of themachine. When a landing was finally made at the old place in the bend ofthe river, although the day was dreary enough, only the chill atmosphereand a few traces of snow gave premonition of possible storm.

  This time Norman made the visit across the river and he was not gone muchover an hour and a half. To facilitate the delivery of his stores, whichwere considerable, he pressed a horse and wagon into service and a littleafter twelve o'clock Roy was glad to see his companion reappear in thedelivery wagon. The spitting snow had begun again. No time was lost inluncheon this day, but the fresh meat, eggs and butter and a few freshvegetables were quickly stored in the rear of the cockpit.

  There were no telegrams this time, but a larger quantity of mail withconsiderable for the boys, some of which Norman had examined. At twelvethirty o'clock everything was in readiness. On the wind-swept heights itwas now cold. Before mounting into the cockpit the boys put on theirwinter caps, Mackinaw jackets and gauntlets.

  Then, elevating the front protecting frame, they started the _GitchieManitou_ on its return flight, the wind and snow already smiting itsresonant sides in a threatening manner.

  The young aviators had little to say concerning the situation. They werenot alarmed and could not afford to be, as their surroundings were mildcompared with the conditions that the unique monoplane had been made toovercome. And yet they were now beyond theorizing, and it looked as ifbefore the day was done they were to prove the merits or weaknesses oftheir much-lauded craft.

  "I'm glad of one thing," suggested Roy, a little later; "we're going tohave daylight all the way back."

  "I hope so," answered Norman, but not very confidently.

  "We ought to be there by seven o'clock!" retorted Roy.

  "That's all right," said Norman in turn, "but I've seen snow in thedaytime so heavy that it might as well have been night."

  "Anyway, as long as we don't lose the river," suggested Roy, "we can't gofar wrong. And the compass ought to help some."

  "A compass is all right to keep you in a general direction," answeredNorman, "but the best of them, in a three hundred mile run, won't landyou at any particular street number."

  "I think," suggested Roy again, a little later, "that we might as wellput up these shelters and have something to eat."

  By this time the wind had died somewhat and the volume of the snow hadincreased. It was falling so heavily that the top of the car was white.Norman's silence giving approval, Roy managed to elevate the protectingsections, which in turn immediately began to be plastered with softflakes. Almost at once part of the section on the lee side, which by goodchance happened to be the one next to the river, was lowered again thatthe pilot might get a clear view. Then Roy opened Philip's bag of food.

  "Don't shoot," he protested. "What's the use?"]

  The aviators had both tea and water, but they drank only the latter andmade no attempt to use the heating apparatus.

  At four o'clock the increasing snowfall was beginning to give the machinesome trouble, and yet it was plowing its way steadily through the air andneither boy was more than apprehensive. Soon after this the snow ceasedsuddenly and the wind rose as quickly.

  "We're losing some of our extra cargo anyway," announced Roy, as thefirst gusts tore some of the accumulated snow from the weighted planes.

  "And we're losing some considerable gas," added Norman. "I hope we don'thave to buck this wind very long--it's coming dead ahead." It was justthen, the gloom merging into dark, that the alert Roy exclaimed:

  "Look; a bunch o' deer!"

  The car was crossing the snow-flecked river and flying low. Norman raisedhimself and made out, in the edge of the timber below them, a group ofdeer.

  "Don't shoot," he protested. "What's the use?"

  But his admonition was too late. Roy's twenty-two had already sounded
.However, nothing but a bullet was lost. When the monoplane had passedswiftly on its way, the placid and apparently unmoved animals stoodgazing after the airship.