NEGOTIATING AND OUTFITTING
It had been an eventful day for the millionaire ranchman and his son
Paul, as well as for Norman Grant and Roy Moulton, to whom it had opened
up possibilities that they could scarcely yet realize. It was now Colonel
Howell's mission further to enact the role of a magician and to see if
the plans he had outlined were to bear fruit for the young aviators.
"We'll be waiting to hear," announced the young Count, as he alighted and
gave the chauffeur directions for finding the Grant and Moulton homes,
"and I want to know the news to-night."
"I'll be disappointed if it isn't good news," responded the Kentuckian,
"but don't you worry about that. We're going anyway. You see your father
right away and he'll begin to plan your outfit. We're going to leave, the
airship with us I hope, at three o'clock Monday afternoon."
It was half past nine when the oil prospector reached the Grant home. The
evening there had been one resembling preparations for a funeral. Colonel
Howell's offer had fallen on the Grant family with no sign of joy in
anyone except the son. Dazed by the dangers which, to Norman's family,
overshadowed all possible advantages, small time was lost in calling Mr.
and Mrs. Moulton into the conference. After the arrival of the latter, it
had been a debate between the two boys, their parents, and several
sisters, with no apparent possibility of reaching a decision.
Even the appearance of Colonel Howell did not seem to help matters very
much, but the formalities having worn off and the prospector having been
invited to give his version of his own plans, the possibilities began to
brighten for the young men. In the process of argument, even the somewhat
hesitating Norman had talked himself into a wild eagerness to be allowed
to go.
Roy was so impatient that he stuttered. The different effect of Colonel
Howell's explanation was undoubtedly due to the fact that he emphasized
the great possibilities of the business part of the trip. Roy had sought
to win favor by expatiating on the ease with which the _Gitchie Manitou_
was to overcome the perils and privations of the almost Arctic region.
Norman had also grown hoarse in demonstrating the entire safety of their
aircraft. But their patron seemed to dismiss these arguments as matters
needing no discussion. Rather, he drew a picture of the opportunities to
be presented to the boys in seeing the new land, of what he called the
comforts of their snug cabin and of the advantages that must come to all
young men in becoming acquainted with the little-known frontiers of their
country. He said little of the immediate pecuniary reward, but said
enough to have both fathers understand just what this was to be.
Both Mr. Grant and Mr. Moulton had had their share of roughing it on the
frontier and neither seemed to welcome the sending of their children
against the privations that they had endured.
While the discussion dwindled into indecision, Colonel Howell, as if in
afterthought, repeated in substance his talk with Mr. Zept, omitting of
course some of the unfortunate details, all of which, however, were
already well known to those present.
Mr. Zept was the leading citizen of Calgary, an influential and important
man. He was also a character whom most men in that part of the country
were proud to count as a friend. Among those of her own sex, Mrs. Zept
occupied about the same position. When the flurry of questions concerning
Mr. Zept's determination to send his son as a member of the party had
died somewhat, it was perfectly plain that both Mrs. Grant and Mrs.
Moulton had new thoughts on the proposition.
"Is he going as a workman?" asked Roy impulsively.
"Oh, he'll do all he's called upon to do," answered Colonel Howell,
taking advantage of his opening, "but I really didn't need any more help.
He's going because his father thought it would prove an advantage to him.
In fact," continued the colonel, "Mr. Zept was kind enough to want to
contribute to our expenses because his son was to be with us. But as I
told my old friend, I was not running an excursion, and I have invited
the young man to go as my guest."
"And he's paying us nearly three thousand dollars to do what the Count
was willing to pay for," exclaimed Norman, as a clincher. "What have you
got to say to that?" he added almost defiantly, addressing his mother.
"But he won't have to go up in a flying machine," meekly argued Mrs.
Grant.
Norman only shrugged his shoulders in disgust. "There won't be any more
danger in that," he expostulated, "than I've been in all week."
Colonel Howell turned to Mr. Grant, who held up his hands in surrender.
Then he looked at Mr. Moulton. The latter shook his head, but the debate
seemed to be closed.
"I guess they're able to take care of themselves," conceded Mr. Grant.
"I started out younger," added Mr. Moulton.
"I'm planning to leave at three o'clock Monday afternoon," announced the
Kentuckian, with his most genial smile, "and we'll have a car ready for
the machine Monday morning."
The conference immediately turned into a business session to discuss
immediate plans and the outfit needed by the newly enlisted assistants.
In this the mothers took a leading part, seeming to forget every
foreboding, and when Colonel Howell left, the two families were
apparently as elated as they had been despondent on his arrival.
The next day's performance at the Stampede was more or less perfunctory,
so far as the young aviators were concerned, and was only different from
the others in that Roy accompanied Norman in the exhibition flight.
Colonel Howell, after a day of activity in the city, was present when the
flight was made. No time had been lost by the boys in arranging for their
departure, and mechanics in Mr. Grant's railroad department had been
pressed into service in the construction of three crates--a long skeleton
box for the truss body of the car, another, wider and almost as long, to
carry the dismounted planes, and a solidly braced box for the engine. The
propeller and the rudders were to go in the plane crate. These were
promised Sunday morning, and Norman and Roy took a part of Saturday for
the selection of their personal outfits. Over this there was little
delay, as the practical young men had no tenderfoot illusions to
dissipate.
The kind of a trip they were about to make would, to most young men, have
called for a considerable expenditure. But to the young aviators, life in
the cabin or the woods was not a wholly new story. Overnight they had
talked of an expensive camera, but when they found that young Zept was
provided with a machine with a fine lens, they put aside this
expenditure, and the most expensive item of their purchases was a couple
of revolvers--automatics.
Norman already owned a .303 gauge big game rifle, but it was heavy and
ammunition for it added greatly to the weight to be carried in the
airship. With the complete approval of Colonel Howell, he bought a new
.22 long improved rifle, which he figured was all they needed in addition
to their revolvers.
"It's a great mistake," explained Colonel Howell, who had met the two
boys at the outfitting store just before noon, "for travelers to carry
these big game high-powered rifles. The gun is always knocked down, is
never handy when you want it, and the slightest neglect puts it out of
commission. You take this little high-powered in your pocket, and you'll
get small game and birds while you're tryin' to remember where the big
gun is."
"That's right," answered Roy. "Grant and I were up in the mountains a
year ago, back of Laggan. We weren't hunting especially, but I was
carryin' the old .303. Up there in the mountains we walked right up on as
fine an old gold-headed eagle as you ever saw. I was going to shoot, when
I recollected that this wasn't a deer four hundred yards away. If I'd
shot, I'd have torn a hole through that bird as big as your hat. If I'd
had this," and he patted the smart looking little .22, "somebody would
have had a fine golden-headed eagle."
Colonel Howell had few suggestions to make, but while he was in the
store, he selected a small leather-cased hatchet and an aluminum
wash-pan.
"Don't laugh," he explained. "Just take the word of an old campaigner and
keep these two things where you can put your hands on 'em. You can get
along in the wilderness without shootin' irons--or I can--but you'll find
this tin pan a mighty handy friend. If your wise friends laugh at your
luxury just wait, they'll be the first ones to borrow it. You can cook in
it, wash in it, drink out of it, and I've panned for gold with 'em. It's
the traveler's best friend."
The outfitter was busy enough displaying his wares, of which he had a
hundred things that he urged were indispensable, but he was not dealing
with States tenderfeet, and the volume of his sales was small. In it,
however, the boys finally included two heavy Mackinaw jackets, two still
heavier canvas coats reinforced with lambs' wool, two cloth caps that
could be pulled down over the face, leaving apertures for the eyes, and
two pairs of fur gauntlets, mitten-shaped, but with separate fore-fingers
for shooting.
The boys made these purchases on their own account, and then Colonel
Howell asked permission to make them a present. He selected and gave each
of the boys a heavy Hudson's Bay blanket, asking for the best four-point
article.
"They'll last as long as you live," explained the oil man, "and when you
don't need 'em in the woods for a house or tent or bed, or even as a
sail, you'll find they'll come in handy at home on your couch or as
rugs."
Each boy had his own blankets at home, but at sight of those their new
friend gave them their eyes snapped. Roy selected a deep cardinal one and
Grant took for his a vivid green, both of which had the characteristic
black bars.
"These look like the real things," exclaimed Roy, with enthusiasm.
"An Indian will give you anything he owns for one of 'em," chuckled the
colonel. "The tin pan is a luxury, but you've got to have these. If you
learn the art of how to fold and sleep in 'em, you'll be pretty well
fixed."
Colonel Howell did not seem to be worrying about his own outfit, and when
he left the boys his work for the day was probably financial.
By the middle of Sunday afternoon, the _Gitchie Manitou_ had been safely
stored in its new crates, and then, with a small tool chest and a
hastily-made box crowded with extra parts, had been loaded on a large
motor truck and forwarded to the railroad yards. The remainder of the day
was utilized by the young aviators in compactly packing their personal
belongings, and in the evening the two young men had dinner at the Zept
home. The young Count, whom they had not seen since the day before when
he accompanied Colonel Howell at the closing exercises of the Stampede,
was present and nervously enthusiastic.
After dinner the three boys went to Paul's room where Grant and Roy were
astonished at the elaborateness of their friend's outfit. Paul had not
confined himself to those articles suggested by his practical father but
had brought together an array of articles many of which were ridiculously
superfluous.
He had worked so seriously in his selection, however, that it was not a
laughing matter. So his new friends hesitated to tell him that half of
his baggage was not necessary. Therefore they said nothing until Paul,
having proudly exhibited his several costumes, his new leather cases for
carrying his camera, field glasses, revolvers, and two guns, noticed the
lack of approval on their faces.
"Well," he said, with a smile, "out with it. I couldn't help getting
them, but I know I don't need all this stuff. You fellows know. Throw out
what I don't need. I bought a lot of it in Paris, but don't mind that.
I'm not going to take a thing that I can do without."
Greatly relieved, Norman and Roy fell to work on the elaborate assortment
and in a short time had but little more left in the heap than one man
could carry.
"What's this?" asked Roy, as they reached a soft leather roll about the
size of a big pillow, carefully strapped.
"It's my blankets," explained Paul, opening the flap and exhibiting two
soft fleecy articles. "They're from London."
"Well," exclaimed Norman positively, "you give them to your sister for
her picnics. Then you go down to-morrow morning and get a four-point
Hudson's Bay blanket, fourteen feet long, pay your twelve dollars for it,
get a strap to hang it on your back, and I reckon you'll have about all
you need."
A little later, when Paul's father and Colonel Howell visited the room
and Paul good-naturedly explained what his friends had done, Mr. Zept
laughed.
"I told you all that," he exclaimed, "but I guess it was like the advice
of most fathers. These young men know what they're doing. Hill," he said,
turning to his guest, "I guess you haven't made any mistake in signing up
these kids. There's a lot they may have to find out about the wilderness,
but it looks to me as if they weren't going to have very much to
unlearn."
The next morning was a long one. The baggage car secured by Colonel
Howell for the aeroplane crates was soon loaded. Then nothing remained to
be done except, as Colonel Howell put it, "to line up my Injuns."
Moosetooth and La Biche were yet in camp at the Stampede Grounds. The
boys, including Count Zept, accompanied Colonel Howell to the Grounds
about noon. Here the oil prospector was able to change his program
somewhat, and much to his gratification.
Colonel Howell knew that his old steersmen were accompanied by quite a
group of relatives but he did not know the exact extent of the Martin and
La Biche families. They were all in charge of a man from Athabasca
Landing, who was of course under contract to return the Indians to that
place. Colonel Howell had thought it would be necessary to look after the
immediate relatives of Moosetooth and La Biche, but when he found that
the women and children belonging to these men would just as soon return
to the North with their friends, he was able to arrange that the two old
river men might precede the main party and accompany him alone.
The Indian makes very little ceremony of his farewells to the members of
their families and after Colonel Howell had talked a few moments with
them the dark-skinned boatmen announced themselves ready. The matter of
luncheon seemed to worry neither Moosetooth nor La Biche. Each man had an
old flour bag, into which he indiscriminately dumped a few bannock, some
indistinguishable articles of clothing, and relighting their pipes, were
ready to start for Fort McMurray.
It was the first ride either Indian had ever had in an automobile, but
the quick run back to the city seemed to make no impression upon them.
Leaving the taciturn Crees in the baggage car, well supplied with
sandwiches, fruit, and a half dozen bottles of ginger ale, the others
once more headed for the Zept home. In two hours the expedition would be
off.