On the Edge of the Arctic Part 1

On the Edge of the Arctic.

by Harry Lincoln Sayler.

CHAPTER I

INTRODUCING AN AIRs.h.i.+P AND COUNT ZEPT

This story, which is an account of the peculiar and marvelous adventures by which two Canadian boys--Norman Grant and Roy Moulton--achieved a sudden fame in the Arctic wilderness of the great Northwest, had its beginning in the thriving city of Calgary. The exact time was the big day of the celebrated "Stampede," Calgary's famous civic celebration. It was in July and among the many events that had drawn thousands of people to the new Northwestern metropolis, Norman and Roy were on the program as aviators and exhibitors of their new aeroplane.

These young men were born in Calgary and had lived eighteen years in that city. Since this almost covered the period of Calgary's growth from a trading post to a modern city, each young man had a knowledge of the wilderness and its romance that other boys could get only from history.

This meant that they knew plainsmen, scouts, ranchmen, cowboys, hunters, trappers, and even Indians as personal friends. It meant also that they had a real knowledge of the prairies, the woods and even of the mountains. Their knowledge of these men and the land in which they lived was personal and did not come from the fanciful narratives of books of adventure.

Each boy was the son of a mechanic, men who had come into the Province of Alberta with the first railroads. And each boy was educated in all that a grammar school affords. The picturesque romance of the Northwest having been a part of the life of each, it might have been supposed that the ambitions of the two lads would have run toward mining or ranch life or even toward the inviting work of hunters or trappers.

To the gratification of their fathers, however, they fell in with the modern movement and turned toward mechanics. When the furore for aeronautics reached even far-away Calgary, the boys found themselves pa.s.sionately absorbed in all airs.h.i.+p discoveries. Mr. Grant's position as a division mechanic of a great trunk railroad, and Mr. Moulton's "Electrical Supply Factory," gave the boys their starting point. Later, in Mr. Moulton's factory, an outbuilding was appropriated and in this place, with the approval and a.s.sistance of their fathers, the two boys finally completed an airs.h.i.+p. This was but a spur to a renewed effort, and within a year, the boys attending school meanwhile, they finished their improved aeroplane. It was named the "_Gitchie Manitou_" or "Spirit of the Wind"--words taken from the Cree Indians.

The original ideas that resulted in this ingenious contrivance came mainly from the boys themselves. Yet they neglected no suggestions that they could find in the latest aeronautical journals. This wonderful machine was only locally known, but when the citizens of Calgary planned their local celebration, known as the "Stampede," there was knowledge among the promoters, of the just completed "_Gitchie Manitou_." It was fitting that this modern invention should be shown in contrast with all that was being collected to exhibit the past, so an arrangement was made with the young aviators to give a daily flight in the new airs.h.i.+p.

"It really isn't made for work of this kind," argued Norman to his companion when the suggestion was made to them, "but if it'll work in the winter in the wind and snow, as we've planned, I reckon we ought to be able to put it over in the park."

"Oh, it'll work all right," responded Roy. "But what if it does? I never quite figured out that we were to turn ourselves into showmen."

"Listen!" interrupted Grant at once. "You've got to show your goods first. It's just the place where we may meet people who will understand what it's good for."

"And even then what are we going to do?" asked Roy. "Sell it to some mail or stage contractor? To some one who works in the blizzard?"

The other boy shook his head: "I don't know," he answered slowly, "but it's certainly going to come in handy for some one. I don't know of any other machine that you can run in a snowstorm or that would be any good up here in the wilderness when the bad weather comes on. They're not going to pay us much for risking our necks, but I'm in favor of making a contract, just to see if some one doesn't come along who'll understand it."

"Then," suggested Roy with a smile, "I suppose all that'll be left for us to do will be to sell it and go to work on another one."

"Oh, I don't know," answered young Grant slowly, "there aren't many aviators 'round here!"

"What do you mean?"

"We might get a job running it."

The other boy's eyes sparkled. "That settles it," he announced. "Let's sign up and do the best we can."

Calgary is to-day the little Chicago of the great Northwest. In the heart of it one may find the last of the old-time frontier life, while around and over this is all that makes a modern city. At this time the civic pride of the city had prompted its citizens to prepare an exhibit typical of that part of the country which, throughout Canada and the States, was also described in placards and vivid pictures as the "Stampede."

The main reason for this was that in the pus.h.i.+ng westward of the refinements of civilization it was perhaps the last thing of its kind that could be celebrated on such a scale on this continent. The modern Provincial Fairground, lying well within the city limits of Calgary, was selected as the site of the performance. Here, when the "Stampede"

finally took place, thousands of people made their way from the Western States and northwestern Canada. There were among them many theatrical producers, moving picture operators, and others especially interested in such a unique exhibit, from the far East. All could foresee possibilities that might never again be presented.

It would bring together the last of the plainsmen, scouts, trappers, and many others who had been engaged in the conquest of the wilderness. This meant a strange mixture of the men who had made possible the romance of both western America and the wide Canadian Northwest. There were to be full-blood Indians, half-breeds, and that curious mixture of foreigners who had made their way through the fur-bearing North by way of frozen Hudson's Bay. The men would be there who had traveled through pathless woods, who had found and named rivers and who had scaled unknown mountain peaks--many of them in the leather coats and moccasins of old days.

Where it was possible, these survivors of a period now gone were to bring with them the weapons of the frontier and the implements of camp life.

There were to be stage coaches and freight wagons of the prairies, relics of the trail and the paraphernalia of the frontier.

The program of the Stampede included the exhibition of these people and their old-time life as well as it could be reproduced. Horses noted for their viciousness, Mexican bulls especially selected for their savageness, and the untamed range cayuse, were to exhibit the prowess of the hors.e.m.e.n. With these, the Indians and their families were to copy the life of the woods in the tepee and the movements on the trail.

Having concluded a contract to become partic.i.p.ants in this unique affair, Norman Grant and Roy Moulton developed an interest in it that they did not know they possessed. To them most of it was an old story. But, having superintended the erection of an aerodrome on the edge of the open field inside the race track, they were surprised at the interest they began to take in the many curious people who soon began to arrive and install themselves in tents and cabins.

The exhibition was to last one week. On Monday morning of Stampede week, while the two boys were engaged in installing the aeroplane, Roy suddenly disappeared. He was gone over a half hour and when he returned, flushed with some new enthusiasm, he found his chum Norman much disgruntled. The machine had been set up before Roy left and he had stolen away while Norman was working with the engine.

"Everything all right?" asked Roy a little guiltily as he observed his companion seated on a box, a half scowl on his face.

"I guess so," answered Grant without a smile. "At least, I did all I could, _alone_."

"I didn't think there was much to do," exclaimed Roy apologetically. "I had something I wanted to do--I'd have asked you to go, but I didn't think you'd care. I've been to see those La b.i.+.c.he rivermen."

"Where's La b.i.+.c.he, and what rivermen?"

"Oh, you know, Lac la b.i.+.c.he, way up country, where the rivermen come from."

"I don't know anything about 'em--you mean 'scow men'?"

"Of course," answered Roy, taking off his coat. "I wanted to see 'em and I knew they got in last night. I've met all kind of Indians, but these old boatmen don't get down this way very often."

"Why'd you think I didn't care?" asked the other boy. "If you mean a real old batteau steersman, I never saw one either. I reckon I'd have gone a few hundred yards to see one of 'em if he's the real goods. Since the steamboats came in, I thought they'd all played out. Are these fellows half-breeds or full-bloods?"

"Don't make any mistake about 'em!" responded Roy eagerly. "I've seen all kinds of Indians but these are some I never did see. They're all right, too. If there's anything about a canoe or a flatboat that they don't know, I guess n.o.body can tell it to 'em."

"They'll have a fine time doing any paddling or steering around here in this race track," suggested Norman gruffly. "How are they goin' to show 'em off? But what do they look like?"

"They're not wearing Indian togs much," explained Roy, taking a seat by his friend, "and I've never seen real old full-blood Indian rivermen, but I know these fellows look like 'em. But I'd change their names if I was going to put 'em on the program."

"Don't sound Indian enough?" suggested Norman. "Full-bloods never do seem to have real Indian names. Seems like all the loafin' half-breeds take the best names."

"Anyway," went on Roy, "these men are John Martin, or old 'Moosetooth,'

and William La b.i.+.c.he."

"Moosetooth and La b.i.+.c.he are all right," commented Norman. "Do they wear shoes?"

"No," explained Roy, "they're in moccasins--plain mooseskin wrapped around the ankles. You'd know 'em by that. And they both carry the Cree tobacco pouch, with the long ta.s.sels hanging out of their hip pocket--so they can find the pouch in the dark, I suppose."

"And black Stetson hats?" added Norman, "with big silver b.u.t.tons all around the leather band?"

"Sure!" answered the other boy. "But you ought to see their arms. Neither one of 'em is big, but if you saw their arms you'd know how they swing those twenty-foot steering oars. I got a hankerin' after those fellows.

Any man who can stand in the stern of an old Hudson Bay Company 'sturgeon head' and steer it through fifteen hundred miles o' rivers and lakes, clear down to the Arctic Ocean, and then walk back if necessary, has got it all over the kind of Indians I know."

Norman looked at him a few moments and then got up and motioned him out of the aerodrome. He swung the big doors together, locked them, and then exclaimed:

"I don't care to get excited over every old greasy Indian that comes along but lead me to old Moosetooth."

Roy, who was well pleased over so easily placating his chum, at once led the way around the race track and through the fringe of tepees, tents and other shelters being erected for the housing of the fast gathering arrivals. At last he stood before a group of mooseskin tepees in which were gathered several families of Cree Indians. These people had been brought from the present famous Indian encampment on the sh.o.r.es of Lac la b.i.+.c.he, just south of Athabasca River, where it turns on its long northward journey to the Arctic Ocean.

It is the men of this region who are sought by the great fur companies, by adventurers and sportsmen and by all those traffickers who use the great riverway to the north. And it is from them that the skilled canoe men and the experienced flatboat steersmen are selected for the conduct of the precious flotillas on these northern waters.