On the Edge of the Arctic Part 22

"Here," he said to the Indian, "you can watch this while it cooks."

With a smile the Indian took the handle of the pan, shook it deftly a few times, lifted the edge of the dough with skilled fingers and then settled the pan upon a bed of coals just outside the heart of the fire and, squatted by its side, carefully watched the baking. Meanwhile, Norman and Paul were crunching bacon sc.r.a.ps while Roy was mopping his perspiring brow with the sleeve of his sweater.

"If that's all we're going to have," broke in Norman, "I want to go home."

But that was all they did have. The conscientious Roy, who had given the subject much consideration, had carefully refrained from bringing any luxuries other than tea and a little sugar. But by the time the bannock was done--and the Indian knew how to cook it--the three boys had become so hungry that the Indian bread was eaten ravenously. Then the party crept into their sleeping bags at an early hour and pa.s.sed the night without discomfort.

Philip took charge of the camp in the morning and before the boys crept out of their bags he served each of them with a cup of hot tea. When the boys looked outside of their snow tent it seemed hardly dawn and yet it was after eight o'clock. Philip shook his head and announced prospects of bad weather. There was no sun and, although it was no colder than it had been the day before, there was a gloom over all that suggested a storm.

Not one of the boys would have suggested it but the Indian did not hesitate to warn them that they should return to the camp at once.

"I don't know how I would vote on this question," said Norman, "if we'd had proper provisions. But I don't propose to live three more days on the _ghost_ of salt pork. And, besides, we've got plenty of moose meat in camp. I'm not so keen about going to the Barren Lands as I was."

This was why late that afternoon Colonel Howell was both surprised and glad to see his young friends trot into camp.

CHAPTER XVII

THE _Gitchie Manitou_ WINS A RACE

Norman and Roy soon became restless and after a few days' idleness asked Colonel Howell for permission to make their delayed visit to the Pointe aux Tremble Indian camp. The day set for this second relief expedition promised a continuation of clear dry weather. Almost duplicating their last provisions, the monoplane got away at dawn. At the last moment, Paul was subst.i.tuted for Roy, and he and Norman made an uneventful flight directly up the river. This time a landing was made at the foot of the bluff on the smooth ice of the river. The provisions were distributed and then the two boys visited the cabin of the paralytic Indian.

"Chandler probably will be out running his trap line," suggested Norman, "but he may be at home."

Within the cabin they found only the Indian. To Norman's surprise, the rusty traps still hung on the wall, with no sign of having been touched since he and Roy visited the cabin. Norman's observing eye at once examined the other parts of the room.

In the bunk corner there was absolutely no change. He would have sworn that Chandler had not slept in the place since he returned. A sudden suspicion coming into Norman's mind, he walked to the bunk corner of the room and pointed to the crevice from which they had taken the letter. The Indian grinned. Then Norman pointed to the curing boards, made motions with his hands to indicate a man of about Chandler's build and other pantomimes of inquiry. The Indian responded with his usual grin, then shook his head. Norman's jaw dropped.

"Paul," he exclaimed, "we're a lot of chumps. Chandler never came back to this camp. He hired the best dog team in this part of the world and while we were all asleep he's been hurrying to Edmonton. He's had seven days'

start, and the way these dogs travel, he'll cover that distance in jig time. Come on," he almost shouted, "we've got something to do now besides feeding lazy Indians. The hunters are back, anyway, and there won't be any starving around here. We've got to get back to Colonel Howell as fast as the airs.h.i.+p'll go."

Philip's supper was awaiting the return of the _Gitchie Manitou_, but its serving was long delayed. For an hour the conference that took place immediately upon the safe housing of the monoplane continued while each partic.i.p.ant contributed his views. The conclusion was inevitable. Colonel Howell must proceed to Edmonton at once. There was a discussion as to whether this perilous flight should be made to Athabasca Landing, where Colonel Howell would have to make the last hundred miles of journey by train, or whether the trip through the Arctic skies should be made by compa.s.s directly to Edmonton.

Finally it was decided, in view of the comprehensive charts that they had of the intervening country, that the latter should be the program, even if it were necessary to make a landing on the way.

"The trains from Athabasca Landing," concluded Colonel Howell at last, "run only three times a week, and I'm not sure of the schedule."

"Then," announced Norman, "we'll do it by _Air Line_. We can make it, if you want to trust me."

"I think it's worth while," laughed the colonel.

"You haven't much time," broke in the excited Roy. "They've had good hard snow, and this half-breed's got a great team, I understand. If they made forty miles a day, and I've heard o' them doing that, you'll have to get a hustle on you."

"We leave to-night," announced Norman, springing to his feet. "Philip!"

he called.

Colonel Howell, with a disturbed look on his face, interrupted:

"Couldn't we leave in the morning--early?" he suggested. "I think I'd rather ride by daylight."

"You'll feel more comfortable by night," laughed Paul, "and you don't need to miss your sleep. Norman won't have any use for you."

The discussion did not close for some time after this and when supper was finally served, the last detail had been arranged. The meal proceeded without any sign of the momentous event to follow. At its conclusion, Colonel Howell turned to Ewen and Miller and said, almost nonchalantly:

"Boys, I'm going to leave you for a few days. Your friend Chandler is on his way to Edmonton to make trouble for me."

Both men looked startled and Ewen exclaimed:

"What's that?"

"The same thing he wanted you boys to do and in which you wouldn't join him."

"What do you mean?" Miller managed to ask.

"What you wrote him a letter about," answered Colonel Howell calmly. "I read that. But," he went on, as both men gave new signs of alarm, "I'm goin' to forget it. Do you men want to go on working for me as you have in the past?"

Flushed faces made any other answer unnecessary.

"All right," continued Colonel Howell, "then that's settled. But I want you to get Chandler out of your systems. You can stay here. To show you that I trust you, I'm going to leave you in the camp again."

Immediately, activity began; Norman and Roy working on the _Gitchie Manitou_, the half-breed preparing supplies, and Colonel Howell making notes and getting papers together on the still littered table.

On an air line, the young aviators estimated the distance across country at about two hundred and seventy miles. After a consultation it was decided to proceed at the rate of about thirty-five miles an hour. This meant eight hours in the air. As there was no need of reaching the distant city before eight o'clock, it was agreed to start at midnight. At seven o'clock, all preparations having been made, Norman turned in for a few hours' sleep.

Colonel Howell devoted some time to his private arrangements and spent the remainder of the evening discussing the flight with the other occupants of the cabin. Norman being sound asleep at twelve o'clock, the others agreed not to arouse him for another hour, considering the work he had done that day. But at one o'clock new activity began.

A match was again applied to the gas well and the monoplane was whirled out into the spectacular illumination. There could be only a brief handshake all around. Then, without a slip, the monoplane was off in the light of the waning moon.

Least of all did the voyagers suffer from the keen cold. With a plentiful store of gasoline, the heaters were at once started but in a short time Colonel Howell asked Norman to shut off one of them. The pa.s.senger had been a.s.signed the duty of watching the engine gauge and recording it, together with the chronometer record. Norman did not find this necessary but it was a check upon his own observations and a safeguard against errors in noting their progress.

It was too dark for the colonel to feel any sense of apprehension. As there was no wind, the conditions were ideal for an aerial flight, and Norman having once shaped his course, the powerful car sped on its way as if sliding downhill. In time the monotonous whir of the propellers appeared to have its effect upon Colonel Howell, and Norman caught him dozing more than once. He then explained to his pa.s.senger that his observations were no longer necessary and persuaded Colonel Howell to wrap up in his blanket and go to sleep.

When the pa.s.senger aroused himself, about five o'clock, Norman asked him to make some tea and see what Philip had prepared in the way of food. It was his only way of relaxing under the strain and he ate heartily. Later, Colonel Howell again pulled his blankets about him and did not stir until the gray of the winter dawn was in the air. The moon had long since disappeared but the stars were brilliant.

When the land beneath came into view, the oil prospector took his place in front of the port section for his first view of the world from the clouds. Then day came and the east grew red. No settlement was yet in sight, but as the golden sun began to glisten on the snow-weighted trees, Colonel Howell gave an exclamation.

"There's the railroad!" he shouted. "We're crossing it."

"Just after eight o'clock," muttered Norman, as he craned his neck to make out the land beneath. "We're certainly this side o' the town and we'll take to the tracks."

With this, he brought the steady airs.h.i.+p about and began to follow the rails, which were now plain enough below. For another quarter of an hour, the monoplane made its way steadily to the south and then a sudden blur broke the landscape in the distance.

"There she is," remarked Norman, almost casually. "Don't forget your packages and bundles."

At nine o'clock Colonel Howell and Norman were eating breakfast at the Royal George Hotel. At half past ten they were leaving the big new Provincial Capitol Building. The colonel had filed his claims and had his papers safely in his pocket. A little later, entering the busy hotel office once more, Norman hastily caught his patron's sleeve. Seated in front of the hotel fireplace, as if gratefully drinking in its warmth, was the worn and emaciated Chandler. By his side was Fosseneuve the half-breed, already far gone in intoxication.