On the Yukon Trail
Page 8
CHAPTER VIII A WATCH AT THE SIDE OF THE TRAIL
Early next morning Curlie established himself in the midst of a thickclump of young pine trees where he could keep a constant watch on thetrail and not be seen by anyone approaching.
He had dragged into the clump a number of spruce boughs. On these he sat.On one side of him was his smaller radiophone receiving set and on theother his rifle. The receiver of the radiophone was clamped over his earsbeneath his cap. This day he was to be a detective of the earth as wellas of the air.
The camp had been moved well back from the trail, where without danger ofbeing heard Jennings could work upon the broken sled. Whether theirquarry were caught in their trap this day or not, they must be preparedto travel on the morrow.
As he sat there with his eyes moving up and down the trail he thought ofthe adventures his calling as a secret service man of the air had broughthim. He recalled those wild hours on the tossing sea when death appearedso near that it seemed almost to beckon. He thought of the girl, GladysArdmore, who had behaved so bravely on that night. He wondered what shemight be doing at that moment.
Then his mind carried him back to the adventure which appeared to be justbefore him. The man he was seeking had repeatedly broken all the laws ofthe air. He was subject not only to heavy fines but also to long years ofimprisonment. That he would fight and willingly commit murder to escapepunishment Curlie did not doubt. Yet here was Curlie, ready and willingto attempt to stop him in his mad career.
"One does not do such a thing for himself," he reasoned. "He does it forthe good of others. Here in Alaska are thousands of lonely people who canbe cheered by music, stories and speeches broadcasted over thousands ofmiles. Yet a few outlaws of the air can spoil all that. It is the duty ofsome of us to see that they do not do it. There are matters of evengreater importance; a miner lost on the tundra, snow-blind and all buthopeless, can, if he has a small radiophone set, send out a call for aid.From a large station this message may be picked up. He may be located andhis life saved. Even the great explorer, Munson, may need some suchassistance."
Had he known how prophetic this last thought was, and how much he was tohave to do with the explorer who was at that moment more than twothousand miles away on a ship beset by the perpetual ice of the Arctic,he would have been startled.
As it was, his mind turned to the mystery that always surrounds trueadventure. He recalled the words of an old friend:
"Adventure, true adventure, like fame, does not come to those who seekit. It comes unbeckoned and unannounced. Oh! yes, you can blunder aboutand get into all kind of scrapes which really do not mean anything toyourself nor to anyone else, but that is not adventure. You may evensucceed in getting yourself killed without experiencing an adventure.
"You'll know an adventure when you see it. When, with no willing of yourown, but following the plain lead of duty, you feel yourself going intosomething as dark and mysterious as an unexplored cave; when your heartbeats madly, your knees tremble and your tongue clings to the roof ofyour mouth, yet you go straight on because you know that duty leads you,then you may be sure that you are about to enter upon a genuineadventure."
As Curlie recalled these words he wondered whether or not, before the daywas done, he would find himself entering upon a true adventure. Would hisquarry, the outlaw of the air, come down the trail?
The day wore on. Noon came. He ate a frozen lunch. The sun sank lower andlower. His vigil did not relax, but he began to lose faith in his plan.
"Joe said he would come and tell me if he found other trails," he toldhimself. "The outlaw can't have gone round us. Where can he be? If we'vemissed him--well, anyway, he can't escape us. They'll take him when heenters Valdez."
And yet, as he thought it through, he was not so sure of it. The man wasutterly unknown. Not one person who was in any way interested in hiscapture had ever seen him. Hundreds of strange men drifted in and out ofthe seaport city of Valdez every day. How then was anyone to put his handon any one of them and say, "This is the man"?
He was interrupted in these disconcerting reflections by a sound in hisreceiver. It was a whisper--_the_ whisper.
"Hello - hello - Curlie," it said. "Hello - are - you - there? Do - you -hear - me? I - have - something - important--dreadfully - important - tosay. He--the - man - you - want--has - turned - back. Went - forty -miles - to-day. Now he - is camped. So - you - see - you - did - not -get - him - did - you - Curlie? I - am - sorry - Curlie - extremely -sorry - for - he - goes - fast--very - very - fast. You - cannot - catch- him - can - you - Curlie? So - good-bye."
As the sound ceased, Curlie leaped to his feet. His fists were clenched.Through his tight set teeth he hissed: "I can catch him! I can! I can!And I will."
Hastily gathering up his equipment and his rifle he hurried away at onceto break the news to his companions.
Strange to say, in all this time it had never occurred to him to doubtthe truth of the Whisperer's message nor to question her sincerity inwishing him well or in desiring to assist him. And yet she had beenplaying a very artful game of hide-and-go-seek in the air with him formany weeks and in all that time, except perhaps that time in the hotelwindow (told about in "Curlie Carson Listens In"), he had not caught onesingle glimpse of her. He had heard her whisper, that was all. Can onejudge a person's character by the quality of his whisper? Well, that'sthe question.