On the Edge of the Arctic Part 15

"So you say everything went all right!"

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

"I'm glad o' that," answered Colonel Howell, smiling. "I'd like to have you 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't get the operator. I'll be more than satisfied if you duplicate to-day's trip--except as to the meat," he added. "We've enough of that for some days."

Paul sat in suppressed excitement.

"I don't want to b.u.t.t in," he urged in the pause that followed; "but I want 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 they well knew that Paul's embarra.s.sing box still stood intact. And both Norman 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 smiled and 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 the limit 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 three weeks 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 a little earlier in the morning, since we've got to wait for an answer."

The second flight to Athabasca Landing was of course Paul's first experience in an airs.h.i.+p. For some time he was subdued and Norman could see his tense fingers gripping the edge of the c.o.c.kpit. But when a.s.surance came to him, he made up for his preliminary apprehension and was soon taking impossible pictures of the far-away hills and trees beneath 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 came from the young Austrian himself, Norman had not the courage to humiliate his companion with such a plain indication of his fear. Without hesitation, he answered:

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

A little after twelve o'clock, a boy arrived from the other side of the river, carrying Norman's dinner in a basket. The messenger was from the Alberta Hotel and he also carried a note from Paul announcing that no answer had yet been received to Colonel Howell's telegram.

As the afternoon wore slowly away, Norman became more and more apprehensive. It was nearly six o'clock when Paul came in sight, breathless and exhausted from his rapid climb up the hill. Norman could not resist a sigh of relief when he saw that the delay was not due to any new 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 if you'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. Then he 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 a little further delay won't do any harm. Just back of the new H. B.

Company store I remember there's quite an open s.p.a.ce on the other side of the 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 an extra supply on hand."

This flight was easily accomplished but it involved an experience that Norman had not antic.i.p.ated. Having made a safe landing, while he visited the trading post and arranged to have oil delivered at once, nearly everyone in Athabasca Landing seemed to learn of the arrival of the airs.h.i.+p. When he came riding back to the monoplane, in the delivery wagon, 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 to many inquiries but Norman almost felt repaid when he noted that this was the first meeting during the day between Paul and his old friend, the Mounted Policeman.

Yet, in the midst of the general greeting, the boys finally took their leave. As they swung over the city and the river, the mist was beginning to rise from the latter. For a part of the return trip at least, Norman knew that he would have to resort to his compa.s.s or to the guidance of the varying air currents that marked the river course at night.

For several days in the latter part of August there had been nightly frosts. Then there had been a short spell of warm weather and this night the boys could see that cool weather was rapidly approaching. As the monoplane winged its way into the gathering gloom and the crisp evening pa.s.sed into dusk, the body of the _Gitchie Manitou_ grew wet with cold dew. After dark, this began to turn into frost. Paul was able to wrap a light blanket about himself, but Norman, with no relief present, stuck to his post, protected only by his gloves and sweater.

As it was impossible to make out the course of the river from any distance, he had to defy the air currents in the rather hazardous light between the high river banks. It was far from the even flight made during the day in the sunlight, and again Norman could see his companion gripping the edge of the c.o.c.kpit. There was little conversation, and in order to divert his companion, Norman manufactured a job for Paul by a.s.signing to him the duty of watching the engine revolution gauge and the chronometer.

As Paul flashed the bulbs, throwing their little shaded lights on these instruments, and sang out the reading every few moments, Norman could not resist a smile. He read both instruments each time as quickly as his a.s.sistant.

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

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

When the roar of the Rapids finally ceased, the river fog cleared somewhat and, with the help of the stars, the outline of the river became plainer below.

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

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

"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 had kept him and the colonel wide awake. When it grew dark and the monoplane had not returned, he made a fire of cordwood and during the long evening renewed it constantly. At half past one the _Gitchie Manitou_ concluded its 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 in the 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 to me. If I hadn't made good on that option, there's no way to tell what I might have lost. I wouldn't let go the deal I made to-day for twenty-five thousand dollars."

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

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

"You had as much to do with it as anyone," Norman suggested aloud. Then he 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 snapping blaze. The palm of each hand bore traces of blood.

"That's where I lifted her over the high places," he said with a laugh of his 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 were able, in late July, Ewen and Miller had sacrificed a few potatoes out of their store to plant a patch of this vegetable. During August the little garden had thriven and was at last in full bloom. But this night, to the keen disappointment of all, the creamy blossoms fell a victim to the first blighting frost. From now on, while the days were even sunnier and often quite warm, the nights rapidly grew colder and each morning there were increasing frosts.

For two weeks preliminary to the removal of the derrick to the better prospect, the arm of the drill pounded ceaselessly up and down all day.

There were small accidents that frequently delayed the work, but no result other than dulled drills and the acc.u.mulation of promising-looking sand and rock.