AN INFERNAL MACHINE
When Bruce, Barney and the Major found themselves stranded on the shore
of a vast frozen lake at the beginning of an Arctic winter, they at once
took steps to conserve all resources. Building a cache between three
scrub spruce trees, they piled upon it their wolf meat and skins. To
Barney the thought of eating "dog meat," as he called it, was most
repulsive, but necessity gives man little choice in the Arctic, so he
munched his roast wolf's back that night in silence. But at the same
time, he vowed that, sure as the caribou had not all passed, he would
dine on caribou roast before long.
Once the cache was completed, they began scouting the woods near the
ruins of the burned trading station. There they found plain signs of
Indians. A circle of beaten tracks made certain a pow-wow had been
held there.
"Doesn't look very good to me," admitted the Major. "These Indians of the
Little Sticks are a fierce and cruel people, full of superstitions, and
living up to the old law of 'blood revenge.' There's only one thing in
our favor: they have a superstition about a giant creature, known as the
Thunder-bird. The stories of this terrible bird are known to almost all
Indian tribes, but the Little Sticks believe them literally. From the
tracks I should judge that they left in great haste. What could cause
this fright, save the sound and sight of our plane hovering over them?
Since it is almost certain that they have never seen an airplane, it
seems likely that they considered it to be old Thunder-bird come to carry
them off. If that is true, I shall not look for them back in a hurry."
"What puzzles me is, where's the remains of the fellow's generator
and wireless?" said Barney. "Don't see anything down there in the
ruins, do you?"
Instantly all eyes were turned toward the smouldering piles of ashes.
"The place was wired all right," said the Major, pointing to a mass of
tangled lighting wire.
"Say! What's that out in the center?" exclaimed Barney. "Looks like the
bones of a man?"
"So it does," said the Major, "and surely is. Well, there can't be
any further doubt about the rascal being burned in the ruins of his
own house."
Then there came a shout from Barney. He had been tracing out the masses
of blackened wire.
"Look!" he exclaimed. "Here's where the lead-wires go into the ground.
Must be a separate power-house. Three lead-wires instead of two. What do
you suppose that means?"
He clipped the soft wires off with his heavy knife, and bent them apart
to avoid short circuits; then, closely followed by the others, went
plowing away through the snow to search out the point where the wires
left the ground. They traced them through the scrub timber, and, almost
at once, came upon a strange frame-like structure, ending in a tall pole,
and having at its center a house built of logs. The whole affair was
quite invisible outside the timber.
"It's his wireless station," breathed the Major. "No further doubt
remains."
He stepped to the door and found himself gazing into a well-arranged
room--electric generator, storage batteries in rows and instruments of
every description along the walls and the floor.
But what caught Bruce's eye was two rows of ten-gallon cans piled in the
rear. With a cry of joy he sprang toward them. But his joyful look
changed to an anxious one, as he lifted can after can and found it empty.
Only one contained gasoline, and that was but half-full.
"Not enough to give our Thunder-bird a drink," he groaned disgustedly.
"Well, at any rate," said the Major, "we've found a place that won't
make a bad shelter from Arctic blizzards. I suggest that we bring the
plane up to the edge of the woods nearest this point and camp here."
"What's that?" exclaimed Bruce in a startled whisper, as he detected some
noise outside.
He pushed the door open fearlessly, then laughed. There stood a dog.
"Not a bad find," said the Major. "He may be a lot of help to us. And,
look! There are four others! They're the trader's dogs. Ran away when the
place burned, I haven't a doubt. Barney, run and get some wolf meat.
We'll have a team at once. And we'll need it. Can't move the plane
without it."
They were soon on good terms with the strange dogs. The Major, who
appeared to know all there was to know about Arctic life, fashioned some
Eskimo style harness from wolfskin, and before many hours they had their
plane by the edge of the woods, and were settled in their new home.
That night, after they had enjoyed reindeer steak as a special treat,
the Major rather playfully put the receiving piece of the wireless over
his head and clicked the machine. Almost instantly, he exclaimed:
"Jove! I'm getting something! Give me a note-book and pencil."
For fifteen minutes he scratched strange dots and dashes across
innumerable pages. At last he paused and removed the receiver.
"Guess that's about all for this time. Let's see what we've got."
Three heads bent over the message. But, after hours of study, the only
conclusion they could come to was that the message had been sent in a
secret code, which they might never be able to decipher.
"Well," said the Major, with a sigh. "Station's closed for to-night.
Tell the gentleman to call again in the morning." At that he crept
into his sleeping-bag and was soon snoring. The two boys gladly
followed his example.
Barney made the first announcement in the morning. He was going caribou
hunting. He had had quite enough "dog meat." Bruce offered to go with
him, but, on second thought, decided to try fishing through the ice.
Barney was soon lost in the wilderness of scrub spruce. But, though he
hunted far, he found no fresh caribou tracks. It was on his return trip
that he received the first surprise of the day. The wind was blowing fine
snow along the surface and he found his out-going trail half-buried.
Then, suddenly, he came upon strange footprints. The person apparently
had been going North, but upon seeing the white boy's track he had turned
and retreated. The tracks were fresh and had been made by a heelless
skin-shoe.
"Indian!" Barney gasped.
Even as he spoke he caught the gleam of a camp-fire through the trees;
then another and another. Without a moment's delay Barney started for the
camp two miles away.
He had reached the open space where the trading station had stood, had
nearly crossed it, when out of the edge of the ruins there rose the form
of a man, not an Indian but a white man. Barney's first thought was that
it was Bruce or the Major. His second look brought action. He dropped
flat behind some fire-blackened debris. The man wore a tomato-colored
mackinaw, such as was not to be found in their outfit. Whoever he was,
his back was turned and he had not seen the boy.
Creeping a little forward, Barney peered around the pile. What he saw
set the cold chills chasing up his back. The man had torn two of the
lead-wires from the frosted earth. Slowly he placed their points
together. In that instant the boy understood. He knew now the reason
for the three wires leading to the power-house. Two were for carrying
light to the building. If the third one was connected with the right
one of the lighting-wires, an infernal-machine would be set going,
and the power-house, with all in it, would be blown to atoms. And, at
this moment, Bruce and the Major were there. The man, whoever he was,
had, since the wires were broken, found it necessary to test the
pairs out. His first trial had been wrong. He was bending over for a
second try when something struck him, bowling him over like a
ten-pin. It was Barney.
The man was heavier than Barney, and evidently older. He was fit, too.
One thing Barney had noticed--the gleam of an automatic in the man's
hip-pocket. In his sudden attack he had managed to drag this out and drop
it upon the snow.
The struggle which followed was furious. Holds were lost and won. Blood
flecked the snow, arms were wrenched and faces bruised. Slowly, steadily,
Barney felt his strength leaving him.
At last, with a gliding grip, the man's hand reached his throat. It was
all over now. Barney's senses reeled as the grip tightened. His lungs
burned, his head seemed bursting. He was about to lose consciousness,
when through his mind there flashed pictures of Bruce and the Major. He
must! He must! With one last heroic effort, he threw the man half from
him. Then, faintly, far distant, there seemed to echo a shot, a single
shot; then all sensation left him.
When the boy felt himself coming back to consciousness, he hardly knew
whether he was still in the land of the living. He dared not move or open
his eyes. Where was he? What of the stranger? The Major and Bruce; had
they been blown into eternity? Again and again these problems whirled
through his dizzy mind.
Then all at once, he heard a voice.
"I think he's coming 'round," someone, very far off, was saying.
It was the gruff voice of the Major. Barney opened his eyes to find his
companions bending over him.
"What happened?" he asked weakly, his eyes searching their faces.
"That's what we'd like to know," answered Bruce; "we heard a shot, and
hurrying out here found you unconscious beside a dead man."
"Dead?" Barney sat up dizzily.
"Sure is. Did you shoot him?"
"Shoot--I shoot--" The boy tried to steady his whirling brain. "No, I
didn't shoot him."
Gradually the world ceased whirling about him and he was able to think
clearly. Then, together, they pieced out the story. Barney told what had
happened, and you may be very sure it was a sober pair that listened.
"Well, my boy," said the Major solemnly, "we owe our lives to you;
there's no doubt about that. As for him," he added, pointing to the dead
man, "he must have rolled upon the automatic when you made your last
effort, and accidentally discharged it. He has a bullet-hole in the back
of his head where a pin-prick would have killed him. A case of pure
Providence, I'd call it."
"Let's get out of here," said Barney, showing signs of weakness. "I've
had quite enough of it."
With an arm on either of his comrades' shoulders, he made his way back to
the station, where a bowl of hot reindeer broth completely revived him.
"The next thing," said Bruce, "is to hunt out that infernal contraption
which threatens our lives."
It was a delicate and dangerous undertaking, but little by little, they
traced out the wires and disconnected them. At last they found it in a
small box which had been skillfully fitted into a beam.
"Innocent looking little thing," said Bruce, holding it up for
inspection. "To-morrow I am going to take it out to the lake, hook it up
with a couple of batteries and see if it's got any kick."
After a hearty meal, the three resumed their previous evening's
occupation, attempting to decipher the strangely coded message.
"Here's a theory to try out," said Bruce. "A message is usually composed
of nearly an equal number of words of one to three letters and of those
having more than three. These are likely to be used alternately. If then,
you find two or three words of four or more letters, it's likely to be a
name. The man, whoever he is, has signed only a code name, but there may
be more names in the body of the message. Look it over."
"Yes, here are two words together of five letters each," exclaimed
Barney.
"Think of names you know that are spelled with five letters," said Bruce
excitedly.
Instantly there came into Barney's mind the name of his former pal.
"There's Dave Tower," he said. "He'd sign it David, of course."
"Just fits," exclaimed Bruce, more excited than ever. "And by all that's
Canadian, the first and last letters of the first name are the same, just
as they are here. I believe we're on the right track."
"But what would his pal have to do with it?" asked the astonished Major.
"He went North about the time we started." Barney danced over the floor
in his excitement.
While the boys were too excited to do further deciphering, the Major's
cooler brain was busy. Soon he rose and began pacing rapidly back and
forth across the room. His face wore anything but a pleased expression,
and his limp was greatly increased by his irritation.
"Did you get it?" asked Barney.
"I should say I did!" exclaimed the Major. "Right in the neck! And to
think," he sputtered, "here we are without gasoline to carry us a hundred
miles, and he starting with everything in his favor. If we just had gas
for three hundred miles. There's plenty on the schooner, Gussie Brown. I
called Nome yesterday and found that out. But they can't bring it to us,
and we can't go to them. We're stuck; stuck right here! And he's starting
to-morrow!"
The boys stared in speechless amazement, as the Major, dropping into a
chair, covered his face with his hands.
It was many minutes before he was calm enough to tell them the simple
truth of the matter, which was, of course, that the wireless message was
that one sent by the Doctor on the Aleutian Islands, telling of his
intended journey Northward; also that this same doctor was a hated rival
explorer, whom he had beaten a few years before; that he had not intended
going North at this time, but this action of his rival made it imperative
that he do so now. Finally, that the trading gasoline schooner, Gussie
Brown, was frozen in the ice three hundred miles north of Conjurer's Bay
and Great Bear Lake, and had an ample supply of gasoline.
"But after all, I guess we're beaten," said the Major wearily. "If we
succeed in getting out of this scrape alive we'll be fortunate."
"Cheer up! The worst is yet to come," smiled Barney. "Let's turn in."
Two interesting problems awaited the party in the morning. Was the man
who had been accidentally shot the night before the anarchist trader? If
so, who was the person whose bones lay in the ruins? Was the
infernal-machine a genuine affair, and if so, would it explode? While the
Major was still brooding over his disappointment, the boys were so eager
for these investigations that they quite forgot the affair of the
wireless message.
The identity of the dead man was soon established by papers found in
his pockets. He was the trader. The skull found in the ruins was
unmistakably that of an Indian. A break in this skull showed that the
person had died a violent death and had not been caught by the fire. The
conclusion the boys arrived at was that the trader had killed the Indian
and had fled to the woods. The Indians in revenge had burned his trading
station. That he had intended to destroy the explorers was beyond
question. He had, therefore, met a well-deserved fate. His body was
buried, Eskimo-style, on top of the ground, with stones piled over it to
protect it from wolves.
When this work had been completed, the two boys took the infernal-machine
down to the frozen surface of the lake where there could be no danger
from an explosion, and connected it with wires which they laid along the
surface from the steep, snow-buried shore.
"Must be twenty feet of snow in there!" exclaimed Bruce, as for the third
time he lost his footing and slid to the bottom of the slope.
Presently they were well behind the ridge in the forest, and out of range
of any flying splinters of machine or ice.
"I feel as I used to when I was a schoolboy, and hid with the rest of the
gang out in the woods and shot off charges of gunpowder in a gas-pipe
bomb," grinned Barney, as he screwed one wire to a post of a battery.
"Now we'll--" he exclaimed breathlessly.
His last word was lost in the roar of a tremendous explosion. The shores
of the bay took up the sound and sent it echoing and reechoing through
the forest. Fine bits of ice came rattling down through the trees, while
a great cloud of smoke and mist floated lazily over their heads.
"Whew! Some explosion!" murmured Barney.
Bruce was silent. His face was white.
"What's up?" asked Barney.
"Nothing. I'm all right," Bruce smiled grimly. "I was only thinking what
might have happened yesterday."
"Forget it," grumbled Barney. "C'mon, let's see the ruins."
"Fish!" exclaimed Bruce, as they emerged from the forest. And assuredly
there were fish in abundance. The thirty-foot wide pool, from which the
ice had been blown, was white with them. There were salmon, salmon-trout,
white-fish, lake-trout, flounders, and others the boys did not know.
Hundreds and hundreds of them, stunned by the explosion, floated on the
surface only waiting to be harvested.
"We'll have to work carefully," said Barney, starting forward. "The ice
is pretty well shattered. A plunge in that water, and the temperature at
thirty below, wouldn't be pleasant, but I believe we can save every one
of them. Get a pole." He began cutting a large branch from a spruce tree.
Bruce followed his example.
"Now!" Barney exclaimed, preparing to slide down the bank. But he
paused in surprise. The snow-bank, shattered by the blast, had gone
tumbling down to the surface of the lake. And what was that protruding
above what remained of the snow? It was dark and V-shaped, like the
gable of a roof.
Barney was for investigating at once, but Bruce was more practical; the
fish must be secured immediately. This food might yet stand between them
and starvation.
They were soon whipping the pool with their poles, and, as the fish
came to the ice edge, they gathered them in. Some were monsters, two or
three feet in length. It was, indeed, a great haul. They piled them on
the ice like cord-wood. Already they were freezing; they would remain
fresh for months.