A GRATEFUL FRIEND
The oncoming night in the dreary solitude with which the young airmen
were environed seemed filled with alarms. All three listened intently.
At a further distance away than at the first, the renewed howling of the
wolves broke forth. The pack seemed to have chanced upon some new trail
of prey.
“Why,” Hiram was the first to break the thrilling silence, “do you hear
that, fellows?”
“Sleigh bells!” cried Elmer, instantly.
“Yes, and I hear the neighing of horses,” added our hero. “More than
one. Listen!”
Muffled yet unmistakable, the sound of sleigh bells jangling sharply
broke upon the air. There followed loud echoing neighs. Then there rose
a sudden scream.
“Oh, Dave!” gasped Hiram, “it was a human voice! A man’s scream, I’ll
wager! There it is again!”
“One of you keep with me,” shouted Dave, in an urgent tone. “This way!”
Seizing the reflector lantern, the young aviator dashed along the
arcade. It was Hiram who first heeded his order. He had grabbed up the
heaviest club at hand. At the end of the arcade Dave halted for a
moment, confused by the blinding snow eddies and the dim obscurity.
“That way, straight ahead,” panted the wrought up Hiram, as another wild
scream rang out.
It was mingled with the echoes of the sleigh bells in quite another
direction. It was mixed with the baying and howls of the wolves nearer
at hand.
The pilot of the _Comet_ dashed on. The snow was deep and clogging.
Hiram labored at his heels. The eye of light showed nothing until they
had gone nearly fifty feet. Then its rays illumined a startling picture.
Upon the snow, lying upon heavy fur robes, was a man. Supporting himself
upon one elbow, he was slashing about him with a short, horn-handled,
thick-bladed knife. Around him more than a dozen wolves were seeking to
spring upon and disable him. The minute the light dazzled the ravenous
pack, they drew away, baffled.
The rescued man was clad in heavy furs. His cap, the gloves he wore, his
whole equipment indicated comfort and wealth. He seemed to take in the
situation at a glance. As he struggled to his feet, a motion of his hand
showed deep gratitude.
He shuddered as he bent his ear to catch the retreating bayings of the
wolves. Just a faint echo of the sleigh bells was now audible. A look of
satisfaction came into the man’s face as he discovered this. He spoke
some words in a language the young airmen could not understand. Dave
pointed to the campfire, and the man bowed. Then Hiram helped him pick
up the scattered sleigh robes. Dave leading the way, all hands started
for the arcade.
“Who is he?” whispered the curious Elmer to Hiram, as the trio came
within the radius of the cheery blaze he had built up with great armfuls
of wood.
“Russian, I guess,” replied Hiram. “He can’t tell us, though, for we
don’t understand him.”
“Did the wolves attack him?”
“It looks that way. I think the horses got frightened and ran away. They
seemed to have tipped him and the sleigh robes over into the snow. I
tell you, we reached him just in time, or those hungry brutes would have
had him.”
The rescued man came up to the fire, removing his gloves and extending
his chilled hands towards the grateful blaze. One coat sleeve had been
ripped from end to end in his encounter with the wolves, his face bore a
deep scratch. Otherwise he seemed uninjured from his recent thrilling
experience.
He glanced strangely and then with interest at the three boys in turn.
He stared hard as his eye fell upon the biplane. His glance lingered
upon it in a puzzled, studious way. Finally he turned to its pilot, and
extended his hands upwards, as if imitating a bird flying. Dave nodded.
Then the man spoke. From the deep gutterals, mingled long drawn out
words and “skis.” Dave decided that he was speaking in the Russian
tongue, and shook his head. More mellow and natural sounding, some words
followed which Dave took to be French. He smiled, but showed that he did
not yet understand.
“It is English, then?” spoke the man, with very fair pronunciation.
“Yes, English—American,” replied Dave, pleased to be understood. “We
stopped our airship here on account of the storm.”
“It is so?” answered the man. “A few versts further, and you would have
reached the station. That is Mokiva. I am the superintendent. You shall
come there to share the best I have. You have saved my poor life.”
And then quite solemnly the man went the rounds. He shook each of his
young friends by the hand, looking them steadily in the eyes.
Hiram hurried up the meal, got some hot coffee ready, and passed it
around. It warmed up, and acted as an excellent accompaniment to some
canned pork and beans, some toasted cheese, and plenty of crackers.
The glow of the fire was penetrating and comforting. They were seated on
the thick, heavy robes. Hiram was quite jolly over their pleasant
situation.
The rescued man had to talk slowly and pick his words to make them
understand him. He told them that his name was Adrianoffski. He was a
trader, and lived at Mokiva, about twelve miles distant. He had been at
another station across country, and had started to return home, not
dreaming that he could not reach it before dark. The unexpected
snowstorm had overtaken him, and the wolves had gotten after the sleigh.
The tragic climax had been averted by the prompt action of Dave
Dashaway.
It more than compensated the boys for their trouble as they got better
acquainted with the man. It seemed that he had agents, friends, and
trading stations, all through Russia and in several Asiatic countries.
With some of these he only exchanged goods, while others he owned. At
the end of two hours the interested young airmen had learned more of
real geography right on the spot than they had ever picked up at school.
The storm let up finally. An adverse wind, however, had set in.
“I hardly think we had better risk the hard work and danger of a run
to-night,” our hero advised his helpers. “We are fairly comfortable
here.”
“That’s right,” assented Elmer, who had been enjoying it immensely,
writing up his “log.” “We’ll have great fun when we get home in some
snug and cozy corner, telling our friends of what a real snowstorm is.”
“There’s something!” exclaimed Dave, suddenly, starting up from his
resting place on the robes.
“Why, it’s another sleigh!” cried Hiram. “If they see our fire, whoever
is coming, we will have some more company.”
“Ah, it is well,” broke in Adrianoffski, his eyes brightening. “I much
thought they would seek me.”
The speaker reached inside his heavy coat and drew out a whistle, and
proceeded to blow on this. It was so small that the boys were fairly
amazed at the shrill, clear, far-reaching sound it made. The Russian
sent out a dozen or more calls. They seemed timed to some rhythmic
signal, for as the boys listened there was a response.
Going to the end of the arcade, they noticed lights approaching. These
outlined three horses attached to a sleigh bearing lamps. The vehicle
came directly up to them and halted. Two men leaped from the sleigh and
approached their employer with pleased words.
“My horses ran home, as I thought they would,” Adrianoffski explained to
the boys, after conversing with his servants in their native dialect.
“My people at once started out to find me. Ah, this is excellent. You
shall partake of the best at Mokiva this night.”
“We would be glad to go with you,” said Dave, “but we dare not leave our
machine unguarded.”
“Unguarded?” repeated the Russian with forcefulness. “My friends, you
know not the fidelity of these, my people. They shall remain here all
night, and your airship shall be guarded as though it were pure gold.
Fear nothing, these men are trusty and tried.”
A thought of all Adrianoffski might tell them of practical details of
their route ahead, induced the young airman to agree to his wishes. He
made sure that the Russian instructed his servants as to due
watchfulness in their vigil. It was understood that they should be
brought back to the camp very early in the morning. Then the boys,
muffled up in cold-defying fur robes, took a real bracing Russian sleigh
ride.
They found that the station comprised two large warehouses. In one of
these Adrianoffski had his living quarters. They were comfortable, even
luxurious. Nothing would do but that another meal should be served. Then
the host of the airship boys took them to his office and library
combined.
Our hero had explained at the camp on the steppe about their proposed
race around the world. Adrianoffski was deeply interested. He had a
large globe showing the world, and he made Dave indicate the route they
had come, and the proposed one ahead. In turn, with considerable pride
he showed red crosses he had made in red ink all over European and
Asiatic Russia, Persia, Turkey and Northern Africa.
“I have learned something of many languages and peoples,” he said. “As
you see, I have posts or stations all over this part of the world. You
saved my life. Let me direct you to good friends, who will surely
cherish you for that kindly act.”
Dave passed his finger over that part of the globe marked Thibet. For a
long time he questioned the trader.
“There is a wonderful city there, called Lhassa,” observed the young
airman. “You know of it?”
“I know of it,” assented Adrianoffski—“ah, well, indeed. It is here, a
few versts only from Lhassa, that my trusted partner, Ben Mahanond
Adasse, has his great depot. He trades solely in Thibet. You would go
there?”
“To Lhassa, yes,” answered Dave.
“Impossible!” exclaimed the Russian, with almost startling force. “My
son, you know not what you say. Lhassa—it is the city of mystery, the
sacred metropolis of the tried and chosen. For an outsider to appear at
its gates is capture—life imprisonment. For a foreigner to penetrate to
its secret recesses, is sure death.”
“But your partner, this Ben Mahanond Adasse?” questioned the young
aviator, “I could visit him without risk?”
“With certain welcome,” promptly responded Adrianoffski. “He is
powerful, he is favored. He could protect you. But go no further than
his home, lest you go to your doom. As to my partner—see, I give you a
talisman, a token.”
The Russian removed from his finger a large seal ring, and pressed it
into the hand of Dave Dashaway.