On the Edge of the Arctic Part 5

These business details had not reached Mr. Zept, as he and his guest had not yet exhausted their old-time hunting experiences. The result was that Colonel Howell at once related what had taken place that afternoon, to all of which Mr. Zept gave earnest attention. Colonel Howell concluded by telling how he was to see the fathers of the boys that evening in an effort to consummate his deal.

"What do you think about it?" asked Colonel Howell with his usual smile, and looking at Mr. Zept.

The latter paused, as if in grave doubt.

"That's a hard question to answer," he said at last. "These young fellows ought to answer it best themselves. Their airs.h.i.+p has given a pretty good account of itself. I did not understand that it was more than the ordinary flying machine, but if it is and they feel sure that it can do what they say it will, it seems to me that the whole thing is pretty much a business proposition. You've made a fine proposition to the young men, financially. If it wasn't for that, if you want me to speak frankly, I wouldn't approve their going into that part of the world simply as prospectors."

"It'd be great!" broke in his son.

"From your point of view, yes," answered his father, affectionately dropping his hand upon Paul's knee, "but you know, my boy, that you have a lot of impractical ideas about this corner of the world."

"I want to go too," persisted the young man, who in his eagerness seemed to have given little heed to his father's words. "Can't I go with you?"

he went on, turning to Colonel Howell.

The latter looked somewhat perturbed. He had no answer ready just then and he needed none.

"You're taking men with you," went on Paul as he slid to the edge of the seat. "I'll go and work for you for nothing. You've got to have men on the river and I know I'm as good as any Indian, except Moosetooth of course." Everyone smiled except Mr. Zept. "And I know there are a lot of things that I could do in camp. I wouldn't be any good about the airs.h.i.+p, I know, but I can shoot and I know I can stand anything that anyone else can. I--"

"Young man," broke in Mr. Zept at last, "these gentlemen are going north on business. Colonel Howell is not heading a pleasure excursion and I doubt if he has any intention of making an asylum for amateur woodsmen.

Let me tell you something: you've got to get on in the world and you only do that, as far as I've noticed, by having a purpose that has some reward at the end of it. Colonel Howell and these young men have a purpose and they'll probably profit by it. Playing Indian or wandering around on the Barren Lands shooting moose may be romantic enough and may be all you want in life, but it doesn't bring success as I count it."

"Your father's right, young man," suggested Colonel Howell; "success in life to-day is measured by money. If you want to succeed that way, stay where the money is to be found. I can prove it," he said, forcing a laugh. "Look at me. What little money I have, I'm dumping into the northern rivers. Then look at your father. He knew the same wilderness you're trying to break into, but he only goes there for pleasure. He had an idea and he came here and put it over. I don't know what it brought him, and maybe you don't. But I reckon you can easily find out by going through a list of bank directors in this town."

"He's a millionaire anyway," Roy exclaimed with some lack of diplomacy.

Mr. Zept did not seem conscious of this remark, for he sat very stern and hard of face.

"When the time comes, my boy, I will take you into this region that you are so full of. Just now, I have other plans for you. We'll talk these over later." Then, as if dismissing the entire matter, Mr. Zept began to point out to Colonel Howell the improvements of the city while the big machine sped toward the hotel.

Paul, with a sullen look on his face, settled back among the cus.h.i.+ons, and Norman and Roy, awed by the decisive tones of the rich man, made no attempt at conversation.

Reaching the hotel, Colonel Howell alighted to prepare his luggage and see to telegrams and mail. Mr. Zept stopped with him while Paul took the young aviators to their homes. A short time later the motor picked up Mr.

Zept and his guest and carried them to the Zept home.

Despite his general knowledge of his old friend's wealth, Colonel Howell was surprised at the sight of his host's home. This, less than a half a dozen squares from the hotel, occupied a city block and was a mansion resembling a French chateau, built of the yellow stone of the country. In addition to an attractive fence of stone and iron, the extensive yard was surrounded on all sides by a wind-break hedge of tall and uniform swamp cedars.

When the car dashed up the asphalt drive, Colonel Howell only turned toward his host and smiled. But while his elders alighted, under the porte cochere, Paul did not smile. Waiting for his father and their guest to disappear into the magnificent home, he sprang into the motor again and said to the chauffeur: "Drive to the King George Hotel."

At dinner that evening there was a message from young Paul, excusing himself on the ground of an engagement. When Mr. Zept heard this, he excused himself to telephone to the garage. When he rejoined his guest, his face was again stern and hard, for he knew what his son's engagement meant.

Dinner over, the ranchman and Colonel Howell made their excuses to Mrs.

Zept and to Paul's young sister and retired to the library. Here Mr. Zept used no ceremony and at once confided to his old friend the greatest trouble of his life. He told how he had brought his son home from Paris because of his wayward ways and how he had found these even more p.r.o.nounced than he feared.

"He isn't a bad boy," explained his father, "and the only trouble he has I think I can correct by home influence." He even explained where his son was at that moment and did not attempt to conceal his mortification. "It isn't in the blood," he went on, "but it's Paris and the opportunity he had there."

Colonel Howell had been deeply moved by his friend's talk, and when the latter used the word "opportunity," his sober face suddenly lit up.

"That's it," he exclaimed, "you've hit it. I think I can read the boy like a book. 'Opportunity' to go wrong is what did it. I've an idea. Cut out this 'opportunity' and I think you've solved the question."

"That's what I want to do," replied Mr. Zept, with a sigh, "and I've been trying to make his home take the place of the saloons, but," and he shook his head, "you see where he is now."

"All right," exclaimed Colonel Howell. "That doesn't need to discourage you. I think we'll have to send him where there isn't any Paris and where there aren't any cafes."

"What do you mean?" broke in the disturbed father.

"I mean up to Fort McMurray, where they'll put a man in jail if they find a drink of whisky on his person."

Mr. Zept sat upright and darted a look at his old friend.

"That's right," went on Colonel Howell. "When you leave Athabasca Landing, the fellow who tells you good-bye is a mounted policeman, and he doesn't shake hands with you either. If you've got a drop of whisky with you, you've got to have it inside of you. If you try to take whisky into that country, you've got to be smarter than the smartest policemen in the world. The 'opportunity' is gone. And there's another thing," went on the aroused colonel. "If your boy thinks he's been robbed of something, when he finds he hasn't anything to drink, you can see yourself that he'll have plenty of other things to interest him."

The agitated ranchman sprang to his feet and took a quick turn around the room.

"Howell!" he exclaimed at last, as he returned and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, "this upsets every plan I have."

"Maybe they ought to be upset," rejoined the oil man.

"You're right," answered his friend thickly. "It's all pretty sudden and it's all a kind of a blow to me, but you're right. What can I do?"

"Easy enough," responded the other as he relit his cigar; "he wants to go with me. Let him have his way. I've never been called upon to attempt anything in the reform line and I don't think I will be now. Let your son join us and I think that'll be the end of what is causing you a good deal of misery. It isn't a case of curing him of the whisky habit. I believe he'll simply forget it."

"Will you take him?" suddenly asked Mr. Zept, his face a little white.

"Sure!" exclaimed Colonel Howell. "Call it settled and get this terrible fear off your mind. Paul's all right and I'll bet when you see him again he'll give an account of himself that'll make you proud."

But the boy's father was not so easily a.s.sured. "Howell," he said in a nervous tone, "you've done something for me this evening that I don't think I'll ever forget. I don't often talk about money, but I'm a rich man. From what you've told me, I can see you're yet working pretty hard.

You may have plenty of money but no matter as to that. I know it takes a lot of money to do what you're doing. I'm not doing this to show my appreciation of what you're willing to do for me, but it looks as if you're the only real friend I have in the world. Let me put some money into this venture with you--I don't care how much--but I've an interest in your project now--"

The Kentuckian was on his feet in a moment. "Jack," he began without any show of resentment, "I've got all the money I'll ever need in this world.

It's fine of you to say what you have, but now I'm going to make you a new proposition. I'm willing to take your boy and treat him as my own son but I'll have to put one condition on it."

The ranchman only looked his surprise. A wave of his hand indicated that any condition would be met.

"I want him to go with me but I'll only take him as my guest."

"Hill," said Mr. Zept, after looking his friend directly in the eye, "I knew from the moment we first made camp together up on the Peace, that you were the real stuff. I haven't any way to thank you."

"Let's compromise on another of those cigars," laughed Colonel Howell, "and then, if it is agreeable to you, and I can have the use of your car for a short time, I have some business of my own."

After a few moments with his hostess, Colonel Howell departed in the motor. As soon as he was out of his host's hearing, he ordered the driver to take him to the King George Hotel. Still puffing his new cigar, the oil man entered the hotel and made a quick examination of the bar room.

The person he was looking for was apparently not in sight. Nodding his head to an occasional acquaintance, Colonel Howell made his way downstairs to the fas.h.i.+onable cafe.

He did not obtrude himself, but called the head waiter and after a question, took out his card and scribbled a line on it. A few moments later, in the lobby of the hotel, he was joined by young Count Zept, who explained that he had been dining with a few friends. Colonel Howell motioned him to a seat and gave no sign of noticing the boy's flushed face and somewhat thick speech.

He had spoken hardly a dozen words to the excited young man, when the latter seemed to throw off his condition as if it had been a cloak. He even discarded the cigarette he was smoking. Then the colonel resumed his talk with the young man and for several minutes spoke very earnestly in low tones.

As he concluded, the young man sat sober and tense.