On the Edge of the Arctic Part 19

The two boys were looking at the scrawl which was plainly "E. O.

Chandler."

"There you are!" exclaimed Roy. "Here's where our friend made his headquarters. No wonder he knew that the Indians were starving."

There was a light tapping on the floor and the paralyzed and speechless Indian pointed toward the corner of the room where there were signs of a bunk. In the gloom the boys went to this place. But they noticed nothing in particular until the prostrate Indian again lifted his stick upward.

And then, shoved in a crevice between the logs, they saw a soiled and crumpled envelope. Taking it to the window, they read plainly enough the address--"E. O. Chandler, Fort McMurray." There was no postmark but in the upper left hand corner was this printing--"Hill Howell, Contractor, Centralia, Kansas."

"It's one of the envelopes that Colonel Howell has down in camp,"

exclaimed Roy.

"Yes," answered Norman slowly, "and I'll bet you it's a message that either Ewen or Miller wrote to Chandler after he left us."

"Do you think we ought to read it?" asked Roy, his fingers grasping the greasy envelope as if itching to extract the enclosure.

"I reckon it's none of our business," answered Norman, as if with some regret, "but I'll bet it concerns Colonel Howell and I believe we ought to take it to him."

Roy turned toward the Indian and made signs of putting the letter in his pocket. If this meant anything to the helpless man, he gave no sign other than the same peculiar grin. Roy put the envelope in his pocket and, making signs of farewell, the two boys left the cabin.

CHAPTER XV

A LETTER GOES WRONG

The conditions that the young aviators had just encountered had not sharpened their appet.i.tes. But again in the fresh air, they decided to use speed and complete their mission and, incidentally, to have a little tea and some bannock at the airship.

At two of the cabins where they had seen the strongest women, they stopped and made signs for the squaws to follow them. At the tepee in the edge of the woods they found the two old men and the two women huddled around a fire on the inside of the tepee, with every sign of having gorged themselves upon the food given them. In the kettle outside, chunks of the moose were stewing under a now brisk fire. This entire party was also enlisted and Norman and Roy made their way back to the snow basin in the woods. Without delay they pa.s.sed out all the supplies to the Indians who had accompanied them, showed them the remainder of the moose and made signs that these should be distributed equally among all. With every expression of pleasure, but none of grat.i.tude, the six Indians took instant departure.

"It's three o'clock," announced Norman, when this had been done. "Now for a little camp fire out here in the snow, some tea and a piece of bannock, and we'll make a record trip back home."

Unaware of the disastrous discovery they were soon to make the two boys took a leisurely rest.

"It's the only time I miss a pipe," remarked Roy as he sat behind a snow bank with his feet toward the cheery blaze.

"Well, if ever I begin," said Norman in turn, "I'll never try to manipulate any of this plug smokin' stuff. I'll go to the States for a mixture of some kind and not try to shave down the brick of hydraulic-pressed tobacco that the half-breeds use."

After a long loaf before the fire the boys made preparations to return.

"Looks a little like the blizzard day," remarked Roy, "and it's certainly getting some colder. I hope the wind won't come up. If it does, I hope it comes out of the north."

While he spoke, the two boys took hold of the frame of the monoplane to pull it out onto the smooth snow and head it south. The airship had been resting upon what seemed to be a little ridge. Pulling the cha.s.sis from this rise in the snow, they were both astounded to find the body of the car shift to one side and sink into the snow.

Both sprang to that side of the car and Norman, running his hand along the wooden landing ski, gasped with astonishment when he found the long runner broken sharply in the middle.

"That's fine!" he shouted. "This runner's out of business!"

Roy ran to the rear where the car had stopped and found underneath the snow a rocky ledge.

"She hit this!" he exclaimed. "Can't we tie her up?"

Norman was plainly in doubt but they cleared away the surrounding snow and found that, instead of a single break, a section of the runner had been shattered. Two jagged ends of wood extended into the soft snow.

"If you'll find any way to fix them," exclaimed Norman, "maybe we can get a start. But it looks to me as if we'd have to make a new runner."

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Roy, beating his numbing hands together. "We can fix 'er."

The two boys made this attempt and, as often as they thought they had patched up the shattered ski and mounted into the car in attempts to make a start, the patched strip of wood would part and the cha.s.sis would lunge again into the snow.

After a half hour of attempts of this kind, Roy recalled the dog sled in the distant hut of the paralyzed Indian and, in desperation, after four o'clock, for it was now getting desperately cold, he secured Norman's consent to a trip back to the Indian's cabin and the securing of at least a part of the sled to patch up their machine.

The winter days were now growing short and when Roy hurried away into the gray woods night was fast coming on. Nor did he find an easy task before him. In the end it was necessary to pay the paralytic twenty-five dollars before he could secure possession of the sled. As he made his way back to his waiting companion, he had to stick to the trails that they had previously made, for in the woods darkness had already come.

At the airship camp he found Norman had put in his waiting time in collecting a pile of fallen timber. It was now so cold that this served a double purpose--they needed the warmth and it served to illuminate the vicinity.

The benumbed Roy also found tea ready and, better yet, a generous piece of moose meat frying in the edge of the fire. These, with some broken bannock heated in the fat of the meat, gave the boys a welcome supper.

Then, piling new wood on the fire, they began again the task of repairing the cha.s.sis. Here they were handicapped by the darkness, as they were afraid to get the monoplane and its reservoirs of gasoline too near the blazing camp fire.

Finally they solved this difficulty by starting the engine and using one of their adjustable light bulbs, which they hung over the side of the car. Yet the cold had become so intense, although it was a dry Arctic cold, that the work went forward only by stages, the boys being forced to stop and warm their hands from time to time at the camp fire.

When the new moon showed through the dark border of spruce trees and the brilliant northern stars pierced the black sky, the young aviators were ready for another trial. It was eight o'clock. This time they packed the snow for a hundred yards in front of the cha.s.sis of the car, and then, arranging their few blankets in the c.o.c.kpit and refreshing themselves with some newly-made hot tea, exhausted and nervous, they climbed aboard.

Putting on all their power and holding their runners steadily to the packed snow, they again started the _Gitchie Manitou_.

While the runners were yet gliding over the evenly-packed snow drifts, there came an ominous jar on the side of the repaired ski and Norman instantly threw the planes upward. It was a chance for, if the car settled again, the new runner would probably give away. In its gathering momentum, the airship drifted snowward again while both boys gulped. Then as if guiding itself, it sprang upward once more.

"It's all right!" shouted Roy, "but we had a close call. If we have to come down again we'll never get up."

"When we land again," added Norman, his mouth dry, "it'll be in the gas camp."

In a few minutes the airship was over the Athabasca River again, which was now vaporless and white beneath them.

"It's cold, all right," was Roy's comment at this moment. "I think there's ice on the river."

In spite of the increasing coldness, the _Gitchie Manitou_ made its way without trouble toward the distant camp. There was no wind and, although the boys computed the temperature outside at not less than twenty below zero, the interior of the little c.o.c.kpit soon became cozy enough. The heating appliances had been connected with the dynamo and Norman at times even complained of the heat. After the first hour of flight, both boys began looking for the flare of the gas well. When this at last came in sight, the car was headed directly for it. At that time both boys agreed that the river beneath was covered with ice from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e.

"Anyway," said Norman, as the gas well came into full view, "looks as if Paul didn't succeed in capping the gusher to-day."

To warn their friends of their arrival, the boys threw on their searchlight, and the arrival back of the aerodrome was unmarked, except by the vociferous welcome accorded by the alarmed occupants of the camp.

Another supper was awaiting the relief expedition and for some time all were busy with the cause of the delay and the details of the condition of the Indian encampment. Unquestionably there would have to be another visit to the camp to ascertain at least the result of the hunting expedition.

Strangely enough, before the matter of Chandler's letter was reached, the discussion reached the work on the gas well that day. When Roy suddenly recalled the episode of the discovery in the paralyzed Indian's cabin he started to produce the letter, but hesitated because both Ewen and Miller were present. In his discussion with Norman on the way back, it had been decided that the letter had probably been written by one or the other of these men and that its appearance might cause embarra.s.sment. Both Ewen and Miller had been very curious about the settlement at Pointe aux Tremble, but they had asked no questions that connected Chandler with the place.

When the hour grew late and Colonel Howell proposed retiring to the bunk room where the iron stove was red hot, since neither Ewen nor Miller gave signs of turning in, Roy put off the matter of the letter until later.

When the three boys sought their bunks, Ewen and Miller still lingered in the big room, and Colonel Howell was asleep.

"Time enough in the morning," suggested Norman.