MYSTERY STORIES FOR BOYS
Lost in the Air
By ROY J. SNELL
1920
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I WHO IS THE MAJOR
II THE STRANGE LANDING
III IN THE MIDST OF THE PACK
IV A MODERN BATTLE WITH CRIMINALS
V AN INFERNAL MACHINE
VI THE RACE IS ON
VII A STRANGE PEOPLE
VIII THE WALRUS HUNT
IX FIGHTING THEIR WAY OUT
X TO THE TREASURE CITY
XI A BATTLE BENEATH THE ARCTIC MOON
XII THE RUSSIAN TIGER
XIII BRUCE AND THE BEAR
XIV "BOMBED"
XV THE MYSTERY CAVERN
XVI WRECKED
XVII "SO THIS IS THE POLE"
CHAPTER I
WHO IS THE MAJOR?
"Let's get a breath of fresh air." Bruce Manning yawned and stretched,
then slid off his high stool at the bookkeeping desk. Barney Menter
followed his example.
They had been together only a few days, these two, but already they were
pals. This was not to be wondered at, for both had been discharged
recently from army aviation service--Bruce in Canada and Barney in the
United States. Each had served his country well. Now they were employed
in the work of developing the wilds of Northern Canada near Hudson Bay.
And there are no regions more romantic than this with all its
half-gleaned history and its million secrets of wonder, wealth and
beauty.
As they stood in the doorway, gazing at the forest-lined river and
distant bluffs, hearing the clang of steel on steel, as construction work
went forward, catching the roar of cataracts in Nelson River, and
tingling with the keen air of the northern summer, life seemed a new
creation, so different was it from the days of war.
"What's this?" Bruce was looking at a file containing bills-of-lading, a
messenger had handed him.
"Car 564963, C. P. R., consigned to Major A. Bronson. Airplane and
supplies." He read it aloud and whistled. Barney jumped to snatch
it from him.
"Stand back! Give me air," Bruce gasped. "An airplane at the present end
of the Hudson Bay Railroad! What's doing now? What are they up to? Going
to quit construction here and use planes the rest of the way? Fancy
freighting wheat, fish, furs and whale blubber by airplanes!" Both lads
laughed at the idea.
"I don't wish his pilot any bad luck," said Barney. "But if he must die
by breaking his neck, or something, I hope he does it before he reaches
the Hudson Bay terminus. I'd like to take his place in that big air-bird.
Say, wouldn't it be glorious!"
"You've stolen my thunder," replied Bruce, laughing. "I'm taking that
job myself."
"Tell you what! I'll fight you for it. What weapons do you choose?
Rope-handed spiking hammers or pick-axes?"
"Let's go down and see if it's here. Like as not it's a machine neither
of us would risk his neck in; some old junk-pile the government's sold to
the chap for a hundred and fifty or so."
That this idea was not taken seriously by either was shown by the
double-quick at which they went down the line, and over the half-laid
tracks to where the accommodation train was standing.
Thorough inspection of car numbers convinced them that No. 564963 C.P.R.
had not arrived.
"Oh, well! Perhaps to-morrow she'll be in. Then we'll see what we see,"
yawned Bruce, as he turned back toward the roughly-built log shack where
work awaited them.
"What's that?" Bruce, who was in the lead, stopped before the trunk of a
scraggly spruce tree. On its barkless trunk a sheet of white paper had
been tacked. The two boys read it eagerly:
NOTICE!
To Trappers, Hunters, Campers
and Prospectors.
$500
Reward
Will be paid
To any person locating anywhere
within the bounds of the
Canadian Northlands at any point
North of 55° North, a wireless station,
operated without license or
permit.
The notice, signed by the provincial authorities, was enough to quicken
their keen minds.
"What do you suppose they want to know that for?" asked Barney. "The
war's over."
"Perhaps further intrigue by our former enemy. Perhaps smugglers.
Perhaps--well, do your own perhapsing. But say!" Bruce exclaimed,
"wouldn't it be great to take packs, rifles and mosquito-bar netting and
go hunting that fellow in that Northern wilderness?"
"Great sport, all right," grinned Barney. "But you'd have about as much
chance of finding him as you would of locating German U boat M. 71 by
walking the bottom of the Atlantic."
"That's true, all right," said Bruce thoughtfully. "But just think of
that wilderness! Lakes no white man has seen; rivers no canoe has
traveled; mountain tops no human ever looked from! Say! I've lived in
Canada all my life and up to now I've been content to let that wilderness
just be wild. But the war came and I guess it shook me out of myself. Now
that wilderness calls to me, and, the first chance that offers, I'm going
to turn explorer. The wireless station offers an excuse, don't you see?"
Barney grinned. He was a hard-headed, practical Yankee boy; the kind who
count the cost and appraise the possible results.
"If you are talking of hunting, fishing, and a general good time in the
woods, then I'm with you; but if you are talking of a search for that
wireless, then, I say, give me some speedier way of travel than tramping.
Give me--" he hesitated, then he blurted out: "Give me an airplane."
The boys stared at one another as if they had discovered a state secret.
Then Bruce voiced their thoughts:
"Do you suppose this Major What-you-may-call-him is bringing up his plane
for some commission like that?"
"I don't know," said Barney. "But if he is," he said the words slowly,
"if he is, then all I've got to say is, that it's mighty important;
something affecting the government."
"I believe you're right about that," said Bruce, "but what it is I
haven't the least shadow of a notion. And what complicates it still more
is, the Major comes from down in the States."
"Maybe it's something international," suggested Barney.
"Yes," grinned Bruce, suddenly awaking from these wild speculations, "and
maybe he's just some sort of bloomin' sport coming up here to take moving
pictures of caribou herds, or to shoot white whale in Hudson Bay! Guess
we better get back to work."
"Ye'll pardon an old man's foolish questions?"
Both boys turned at the words. An old man with bent shoulders, sunken
chest and trembling hand stood beside them. There was an eager,
questioning look in his kindly eyes, as he said in quaint Scotch accent:
"Ye'll noo be goin' to the woods a' soon?"
"I don't know," said Bruce, in a friendly tone. He was puzzled by the old
man's question, having recognized him as a second cook for the
steel-laying gang.
"Fer if ye be," continued the man, "ye's be keepin' a lookout fer Timmie
noo, wouldn't ye though?"
"Who's Timmie?" asked Bruce.
"Timmie? Hae ye never hearn o' Timmie? Timmie; the boy it was, seventeen
he was then. But 'twas twelve years ago it was, lad. He'd be a man noo. I
sent him fer the bag wi' the pay-roll in it, an' he never coom back. It
was the money thet done it, fer mind ye, I'm tellin' ye, he was jest a
boy, seventeen. He went away to the woods wi' it, and then was shamed to
coom back, I know. So if ye'll be goin' to the woods ye'll be watchin'
noo, won't ye?"
"Was he your boy?"
"No, not mine. But 'twas I was to blame; sendin' him fer th' pay; an' him
so young. Five thousand seven hundred and twenty-four dollars it was, of
the logging company's money; a month's pay fer the men. An' if ye see him
tell him I was all to blame. Tell him to coom back; the Province'll
fergive him."
"And the company?" asked Bruce.
"Partners both dead. Died poor. No. 'Twasn't the loss of thet money. They
had many losses. Contractin's a fearfu' uncertain business; fearfu'
uncertain." The old man shook his head slowly.
"Any heirs?" asked Bruce.
"Heirs? To the partners? Yes, one. A girl, noo. Ye'll be kenin' the lass
thet helps in the boardin' shack where you and the bosses eat?"
"La Vaune?" grinned Barney, poking Bruce in the ribs. "Do you _know_
her?" La Vaune, the little black-eyed French Canadian, had taken quite a
liking to her handsome young fellow-countryman, Bruce.
"Well, noo," said the old Scotchman. "Thet's the lass noo. An' should you
find the money noo, it will all be hers. An' ye'll be lookin' fer it noo,
won't ye? Many's the time I took a wee snack and a blanket an' made a wee
pack an' gone into the woods to find him. But I hae never seen track o'
him. He'll nae be by Lake Athapapukskow, fer there's folks there; not by
Lake Weskusko neither, fer I been there, but som'ers in the woods Timmie
is, an' if he's dead his shack'll be there an' the money, fer he never
coom out o' th' woods again, thet shamed he was."
The boys promised to keep an eye out for Timmie, if ever they went
into the unknown wilderness, and left the old man with a new hope
shining in his eyes.
For a long time after reaching the office the boys worked in silence. At
last Barney straightened his tired shoulders and glanced at Bruce. He was
in a brown study.
"What's on your mind, Bruce?" he asked. "That money?"
"Thinking what it would do for La Vaune; five thousand seven hundred and
twenty-four dollars." Bruce rolled the words out slowly. Though they said
no more about it, the old man's story was the inspiration of many a wild
plan. The truth is, it was destined to play an important part in shaping
their future.
* * * * *
"He's here! She's--it's here!"
Bruce burst into the office all excitement and half out of breath.
"Who's he, she, it?" grinned Barney, slipping his pen behind his ear.
"The Major and the airplane! And the plane's a hummer!"
It was Barney's turn to get excited now. He jumped from his stool so
suddenly that his pen went clattering.
"Let's have a look at her." He grabbed his cap and dashed out, Bruce at
his heels.
Some Greek freight handlers were unloading the car when they reached
the track. The work was being done under the direction of a rather tall
man, erect and dignified. He, the boys felt sure, was the Major. His
face bore some peculiar scars, not deep but wide, and as he walked he
limped slightly.
"Might be he's lost some toes," muttered Barney. "Had a cousin who limped
that way."
"The machine's a Handley-Page bombing plane, made over for some purpose
or other," said Bruce, with a keen eye for every detail. "That's the
plane that would have bombed Berlin if the war had lasted long enough.
They're carrying mail from Paris to Rome in 'em now. Those machines
carried four engines and developed a thousand horse-power. This one is a
lighter model and carries two engines. One's a Rolls-Royce and one a
Liberty motor. The fellow that planned the Major's trip for him has
selected his equipment well. They don't make them any better."
"Just look at the sweep of the planes," exclaimed Barney. "They were made
for high altitude work--up where the air's thin. No one would be coming
up here for a high altitude test, would he?"
"Surely not; there's no particular advantage at this point for that."
The boys watched the unloading with eager and experienced eyes. As Barney
put it, "Makes me feel like some shipwrecked gob on a desert island when
he sees a launch coming ashore."
"Yes," grinned Bruce, "and soon you'll be feeling like your gob would
when the launch came about and put out to sea again. No chance for you on
that boat, Barney."
"Guess you're right," groaned Barney. "Little enough we'll have to do
with that bird."
As he spoke several of the men recklessly jerked a plane to free it from
its wrappings. The Major, his back to them, was superintending the
unloading of the Liberty motor.
"Hey, you! Go easy there!" Barney sprang forward impulsively and showed
the workmen how to handle the plane. When the job was done he stepped
back with an apologetic air. The Major had turned and was watching him.
"You seem to understand such matters," he smiled.
"I've worked with them a bit," said Barney.
"Would you mind letting me know where you are located?" asked the Major.
"My aviator and mechanic have disappointed me so far. You might be of
some assistance to me."
"We're over at the bookkeeping shack--the office of the construction
company," said Barney, red with embarrassment. "He--that is, my bunkie
here, knows more about those boats than I do. Say, if we can be any help
to you, we'll jump at the chance. Won't we, Bruce?"
"Surest thing," grinned Bruce, as they turned regretfully toward the
dull office and duller work.
"Say, you don't suppose," exclaimed Barney that night at supper--"you
remember those awful wide planes of the Major's? You don't suppose he's
starting for--" Barney hesitated.
"You don't mean?--" Bruce hesitated in turn.
"Sure! The Pole; you don't suppose he'd try it?"
"Of course not," exclaimed Bruce, the conservative. "Who ever thought of
going to the Pole in a plane through Canada?"
"Bartlett's got a plan of going to the Pole in a plane."
"But he's going from Greenland," said Bruce. "That's different."
"Why"
"Steamboat. Farthest point of land north and everything."
"That's just it," exclaimed Barney disgustedly. "Steamboat and
everything. You're not a real explorer unless some society backs you up
with somebody's money to the tune of fifty thousand or so; till you've
got together a group of scholars and seamen for the voyage. Then the
proper thing to do is to get caught in the ice, you are all but lost.
But--the ice clears at the crucial moment, you push on and on for two
years; you live on seal meat and whale blubber. Half your seamen get
scurvy and die; your dogs go mad; your Eskimos prove treacherous, you
shoot one or more. You take long sled journeys, you freeze, you starve,
you erect cairns at your farthest point north, or west, or whatever it
is. Then, if you're lucky, you lose your ship in an ice-jam and walk
home, ragged and emaciated. A man that does it that way gets publicity;
writes a book, gets to be somebody.
"You see," he went on, "we've sort of got in the way of thinking that it
takes a big expedition to do exploring. But, after all, what good does a
big expedition do? Peary didn't need one. He landed at the Pole with two
Eskimos and a negro. Well, now it ought to be easy as nothing for two or
three men in a plane, like that one of the Major's, to go to the Pole
from here. There's a fort and trading post on Great Bear Lake with,
maybe, a power-boat and gasoline. Then, if there happened to be a whaler,
or something, to give you a second lift, why there you are!"
"Sounds pretty good," admitted Bruce. "But nobody would ever attempt it."
"Of course not," retorted Barney. "It's too simple."
The two following days the boys found themselves taking morning and
evening walks down the track to the airplane, which still lay piled in
sections by the track. They were surprised to see that no effort was
being made to assemble it. The reason for the delay was made clear to
them by an unexpected encounter on the evening of the second day.
Finding the Major pacing up and down before the machine, his slight limp
aggravated by his very evident irritation, they were about to pass as if
they didn't know there was a plane within a hundred miles, when they
were halted by the upraised hand of the Major.
Immediately both boys clicked heels and saluted. Then they felt foolish
for saluting in "civies."
"I see you are military all right," smiled the Major. "But how much do
you really know about airplanes?"
"Oh," said Barney, with exaggerated indifference, "Bruce, here, knows a
little and I know a little, too. Between us we might be able to assemble
your machine, if that's what you want." In spite of his heroic attempts
at self-control, his voice betrayed his eagerness. Truth was, his fingers
itched for pliers and wrenches.
"That's part of what I want, but not all," the Major said briskly. "I am
not an aviator myself, and my man has failed me at the last moment; had a
trifling smash which resulted in a dislocated thigh. Out of service for
the season. I need an aviator and a good one. He says there's only one
other not attached to military units that he could recommend--a Canadian.
But the plague of it is, the man can't be located."
"Might I ask the nature of your proposed trip?" asked Bruce--then bit his
lip a second too late.
"You might not" The Major snapped out the words. Then in a kindlier tone,
"My secret is not entirely my own. I can say, however, that it is not an
exceedingly long trip, nor a dangerous one, as aviation goes, but it is
an important one, and besides, if it comes out well, and I believe it
will, I might wish to go on a more hazardous journey. In that case, of
course, you can see I should wish a veteran pilot at the wheel and one
who will take a chance."
He turned to Bruce. "You are a Canadian, are you not?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then perhaps you can tell me of the whereabouts of this young Canadian
aviator. His name is--" the Major stopped to think. "His name is--ah! I
have it! It's Manning--Bruce Manning."
Bruce's jaw dropped in astonishment. He was too surprised to speak. It
was Barney who, almost shouting in his excitement, said:
"He's Bruce Manning, Major."
"What?" The Major stood back and looked at Bruce. "You? Oh come; you are
hardly more than a boy!"
"Yes," said Barney, "he's hardly more than a boy, but some of the best
flyers the Allies had were hardly more than boys. They were boys when
they went into it over there, but the boys who went up after the Germans
two or three times came down men, Major. Don't forget that."
"You're right--and I beg your pardon," said the Major, bowing to them. "I
spoke thoughtlessly. So then I have the good fortune to be speaking to
the very man I seek?" he went on, turning to Bruce. "Now I suppose the
remaining questions are: Will you be at liberty to take up aviation again
and--do you want to?"
"That," said Bruce, struggling to keep his voice steady, "will depend
upon at least one thing: If you will answer one question now, we will
promise you a definite answer to-morrow morning at seven o'clock."
"The question?"
"My friend here, Barney Menter, is quite as skilled an aviator as I
am. If I go, he goes. What there is in it in pay or peril we will
share equally."
Barney stepped forward to protest, but Bruce held him back and
continued: "Your machine is equipped for two men besides yourself. Will
you take us both?"
"Most certainly," said the Major heartily. "In case you decide to
accompany me, I shall wire the mechanic not to come and you two may
divide the work between you as you may see fit.
"I might say," he added, "that the pay will be double that which you are
now receiving, and the journey will consume the remainder of the season.
Should we decide on something more hazardous, the pay will be in
proportion, and there is, besides, a substantial, I might even say a
rich reward offered, for the successful completion of this latter task.
However, enough of that for the present. You can give me your decision in
the morning, and I hope you accept." He bowed and strode away.
"Now, why didn't you say 'Yes' on the spot?" demanded Barney,
impatiently. "We are required to give only a week's notice to the company
and the nights and mornings of that week we can use getting the machine
together and taking a trial flight."
"I always sleep over a thing," answered Bruce. "It's a habit I inherited
from my father." Long after, in quite different circumstances, Barney was
to remember this remark, and bless Bruce's inheritance.
Mail had been delivered during their absence. Barney found a letter on
his desk. He puzzled over the postmark, which was from some Pacific port.
He tore the envelope open, glanced at the letter, then read it with
sudden eagerness.
"Bruce," he exclaimed, "listen to this. It's from an old pal of
mine, David Tower; entered the navy same time I did the army." And
he read aloud:
"Dear Barney:
"I'm off for somewhere far North; guess not the Pole, but pretty well up
that way. Second officer on a U. S. Sub. She's loaned to a queer old chap
they call Doctor. No particulars yet. Hope this finds you 'up in the
air,' as per usual.
"DAVE."
"That _is_ a coincidence," said Bruce. "Perhaps we'll meet him up there
somewhere among the icebergs."
"I'll suggest it!" exclaimed Barney, reaching for his pen.
"Dear Dave," he wrote. "Am thinking of a little trip North myself. Our
ship's a 500 HP Handley-Page. Bring your guitar and oboe along. My
partner and I are bringing saxophone and mandolin. We'll have a little
jazz. Till we meet, as ever,
"BARNEY."
If the boy had known under what strange conditions this particular jazz
performance would be given, he might have felt queer sensations creeping
up his spinal column.
"I say!" exclaimed Bruce suddenly, "who's this Major chap, anyway? I've a
notion he's something rather big, maybe the biggest--"
"You don't mean?--"
"I'm not saying anything," protested Bruce, "but this other man I'm
thinking of left a toe or two in the Arctic, and his face has freeze
scars on it. His name's--well, you know it as well as I do."
"Shucks! It couldn't be," exclaimed Barney. "He wouldn't be up here alone
this way."
"No, I guess not," sighed Bruce. "But it would be great sport if it were
he, after all."
Ten days later, a girl in her late teens stood shading her eyes watching
a tiny object against the sky. It might have been a hawk, but it was not;
it was an airplane--the Handley-Page, with the two young pilots and the
Major on board. The girl was La Vaune. She stood there watching till the
plane had dwindled to a dot, and the dot had disappeared. Holding her
apron to her eyes to hide her tears, she walked blindly into the house.
The adventurers were well on their way.