COLONEL HOWELL DISCOVERS AN OLD FRIEND IN JACK ZEPT
Although it was well after seven o'clock, it was wholly light, for in
Calgary in July dusk does not come until after ten o'clock. While Norman
looked at his watch to confirm the delay, Colonel Howell remarked:
"It seems good to get back to long hours again. When we get up to Fort
McMurray," and he chuckled, "you boys can read your newspapers, if you
can find any, out of doors after eleven o'clock."
"Fort McMurray?" broke in young Zept. "Where's that?"
"Way up in the wilderness," responded Norman, laughing. "Looks as if
we're going to beat you into the northland."
Instantly the young Count caught Norman by the arm and stopped him.
"What are you talking about?" he demanded, his face a study in acute
interest and surprise.
"Tell you later," answered Norman. "Your father's waiting."
Far from satisfied, the exuberant young Austrian followed the others to
Mr. Zept's waiting car. He was not in error as to his father's annoyance.
The old ranchman, a heavy cigar buried in the corner of his mouth,
watched the approach of the party with a scowl. The moment he saw Colonel
Howell, however, this expression politely changed. The ranchman did not
at once recognize his old shooting friend but without waiting for an
introduction he sprang with agility from his handsome motor.
It required but a word, however, for him to place the stranger and then
the delay was forgotten. The joviality of the veteran horse raiser took
the place of his petulance and, ignoring the young men, the old friends
stood arm in arm for ten minutes recounting the past. The result was
inevitable. After Colonel Howell had been catechised as to his present
location and plans, he could not refuse an invitation to pass the
remainder of his short stay in Calgary at the Zept home.
When the two men at last took the rear seat in the car, Norman and Roy in
front of them, and Paul seated alongside the chauffeur, orders were given
to drive to the King George.
Avoiding the traffic streets and trolley lines, the big car was turned
south through the suburban hills. In the meantime, Paul had lost no
opportunity to probe into the mystery of Norman's remark. In return,
Norman had rapidly sketched an outline of Colonel Howell's proposition
and of the present situation. Norman's rapid words seemed at first to
have rather a depressing effect on young Zept, and then, when the whole
idea had been put before him, his usual animation rose to what was almost
excitement.
No sooner had the motor found its way into the broad suburban streets,
than Paul almost sprang over the seat back and in a moment had located
himself between his father and Colonel Howell on the rear seat.
"Father," he began impulsively, interrupting some old-time talk, "do you
know that Mr. Grant and Mr. Moulton are going to Fort McMurray with
Colonel Howell?"
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 airship 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 airship,
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 cushions,
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
pronounced 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 assured. "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 fashionable 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.
"Colonel Howell," he said, "I'll do it. I understand everything. You have
given me the greatest chance of my life."
"Then," came the cheery and quick rejoinder of the Kentuckian, relighting
his cigar, as he appeared to be always doing under any stress, "we'll
begin right away. This is a business proposition and we're all business
people. We haven't any time to lose. I want you to go home and begin to
pack your kit. The machine is outside. I think your father would like to
talk to you."
"I'm ready now," came the quick response. A moment later the Zept motor
was on its way home.