COUNT ZEPT MAKES HIMSELF KNOWN AT THE LANDING
At the noon meal, Count Zept reported that Athabasca Landing was
certainly a live town. He explained that he had met the most important
man in town, the sergeant of the mounted police, and that he had been
introduced to many of the influential merchants. He had examined the
store of the Revillon Freres and was somewhat disappointed in his
inability to secure a black fox skin which he had promised to send to his
sister.
The Revillon Freres being the well-known rival of the Hudson's Bay
Company, young Zept in his disappointment had also gone to the Hudson's
Bay store, but there he had been equally unsuccessful, although at both
places he saw plenty of baled skins. Colonel Howell laughed.
"My dear boy," he explained, "furs do not go looking for buyers in this
part of the world. Inexperienced travelers seem to have the idea that
Indians stand around on the corners waiting to sell fox skins. Skins are
getting to be too rare for that now and, believe me, the fur companies
get their eye on them before the traveler can. And the companies pay all
they're worth."
"Anyway," remarked the Count, "I can get a small eighteen-foot canoe for
a hundred and twenty-five dollars. Don't you think I'd better buy one?
The H. B. Company has some fine ones--the kind the mounted police use. I
was looking for a bark one."
Even the boys smiled at this and Colonel Howell laughed again.
"Indians don't trouble to make bark canoes any more," he answered. "That
is, when they can buy a good cedar boat. And next to his blanket, the
Indian prizes his wooden boat above his family. But don't bother about a
canoe. Moosetooth has one that we'll carry down the river with us and
I've got a good one at the Fort. Don't buy _anything_. I'm buying enough
for all of us."
But the Count could not resist the temptation and later in the day, when
the boys saw him, he and the sergeant of police were each wearing a
highly embroidered pair of mooseskin gauntlets that Paul had found in a
trading store.
Paul had been in the company of this new friend most of the day and it
was apparent that they had been to the big hotel more than once.
After dinner, the unloading of the drilling machinery, the engine and the
airship crates began. It was a task that Colonel Howell soon assigned to
his young assistants, who had under their direction a few paid laborers
and many more volunteer laborers who were more curious than useful. When
Colonel Howell turned over this task to Norman and Roy, he returned to
the outfitting stores and devoted himself anew to the purchase of
supplies.
On the morning of the second day the loading of the boats began. Each of
these was over thirty feet long and could hold an immense amount of
freight. It was generally planned that all of the drilling machinery, the
engine, and some lumber were to go in La Biche's boat, and that the
provisions and the airship were to be carried in Moosetooth's batteau. In
the end of each boat there was a little deck the width of the narrowing
end of the boat and about six feet long.
While the boats were moving, the decks in the rear were devoted wholly to
the use of the steersmen, who required all the space as they occasionally
shifted the position of their giant sweeps. On the forward decks the
passengers must sleep and unless they disposed themselves on the cargo,
find sitting room during the day. There was neither house nor tent for
protection. A charcoal brazier was provided, on which at times on the
stern deck some cooking might be done. But in the main, unless the night
was clear and good for running, the boats were to be tied up while supper
and sleep were had on the shore.
A part of the equipment of each boat was six heavy oars. These were for
use by the Indian crew when from time to time it was necessary to cross
quickly over the broad river to escape rapids or other obstructions. As
these things were revealed to the young aviators, they grew more and more
anxious for the hour of departure.
When Colonel Howell's outfit began to reach the riverbank the next
morning, Moosetooth and La Biche had part of their men on hand to assist
in the loading. It was a motley group, moccasined in mooseskin with their
straight black hair showing defiantly beneath their silver-belted black
hats. Mostly they wore collarless checked flannel shirts and always from
the hip pocket of their worn and baggy trousers hung the gaudy tassels of
yarn tobacco pouches. Most of them were half-breeds, young men eager to
show the smartness of a veneer of civilized vices. But this did not
bother Colonel Howell, for Moosetooth and La Biche were alone responsible
and these two men well enacted the roles of foremen. Sitting idly on the
bank, cutting new pipes of tobacco or breaking twigs, with slow guttural
exclamations they directed the work to be done.
The loading began and proceeded wholly without order. For this reason the
prospector suggested that the airship crates be left until the last. Bags
of flour, of which there were fifty, were dumped in the bottom of the
boat where the mud and water were sure to spoil part of the flour.
"But that's the way they do it," explained Colonel Howell. "It's the
method of the river Indians. They're doing the work now and don't make
suggestions or try to help them. They'll resent it and think less of you
for it."
While this work was going on, young Zept appeared from time to time and
seemed to be interested but he as continually absented himself.
Loading went forward slowly. Deliveries of stores were made several times
during the day, but there was an entire lack of snap and the Indians took
their time in stowing things away. Colonel Howell was absent most of the
day and in the middle of the afternoon the two boys took their first
opportunity to look over the town.
Reaching the main street, they were not surprised to see the young Count,
mounted on a lively looking pony, dash along the main thoroughfare. It
was hard to tell whether the ease and surety with which young Zept rode
or his flapping Paris hat attracted more attention. As the boys waved
their hats to him and he gracefully saluted, they noticed that he must
have been riding for some time. The pony was covered with perspiration
and its nostrils were dilated. As the rider passed an intersecting street
in the heart of the town, the little animal made a turn as if preferring
another route. The Count threw it on its haunches and headed it on down
the street at renewed speed.
A little later, having visited the post office, Norman and Roy came out
just in time to see young Zept whirling his exhausted mount into a livery
stable. When the boys reached this, they found the proprietor, who from
his sign was a Frenchman, and Paul in a heated argument. It was in
vociferous French and in the course of it the boys saw young Zept
excitedly tear a bill from a roll of money in his hand and hurl it on the
floor of the barn. The proprietor, hurling French epithets at his
customer, kicked the money aside.
Norman pushed his way between the spectators and with assumed jocularity
demanded to know the cause of dispute. In broken English, the liveryman
exclaimed:
"He is no gentleman. He kills my horse. For that he shall pay two dollars
more."
"Well, what's the matter?" went on Norman laughing. "Isn't that enough?
There's your money," and he picked up a Canadian ten-dollar bill and
handed it to the owner of the pony.
"His money is nussing," retorted the pony owner. "He is no gentleman."
The absurdity of this must have appealed to young Zept. Perhaps the
presence of his two companions somewhat shamed him.
"Don't have a row," broke in Roy. "The colonel's sure to hear of it."
The Count turned again to the excited Frenchman and began another torrent
of apparent explanation, but it was in a different tone. He was now suave
and polite. As he talked he held out his hand to the proprietor of the
stable and smiled.
"He's been drinking again," whispered Roy to Norman, a fact which was
quite apparent to the latter.
Then to the surprise of both boys, with Norman still holding the money in
his hand, the excited Frenchman grasped his customer's hand, and he and
Paul hurried from the barn. A block away, the disturbed Norman and Roy
saw the two men arm in arm disappear behind the swinging door of the big
hotel bar room. Ascertaining the amount of their friend's bill from one
of the stable employees, Norman paid it and he and his companion left.
That evening, Norman handed Paul five dollars he had received in change
and the incident was closed.
For three more days the loading of the scows continued slowly. It finally
became apparent that the little flotilla would set out Saturday evening.
In these days Count Paul's manner of life was so different from that of
the boys that they did not see a great deal of him. Now and then he was
on the river front, but more frequently he was a patron of the livery
stable, and even in the evening he was frequently not in the hotel when
Norman and Roy retired.
His acquaintance with the mounted policeman put him much in that man's
company. This officer, always in immaculate uniform, was very English in
appearance, and he wore a striking tawny moustache. Being in charge of
the local police station, as the sergeant, he was the highest police
authority in that district. As the boys noticed him on the street at
times, gloved and swishing his light cane, they were surprised at the
open signs of his indulgence in drink. But what surprised them even more,
knowing as they now did of the arrangement between Paul's father and
Colonel Howell, was the colonel's apparent indifference to young Zept's
conduct.
"I have a theory," said Norman to his friend at one time. "You know
Colonel Howell told us he wasn't taking Paul in hand to act as his
guardian. I think he's letting him go the pace until he gets him where
he'll have to quit what he's doing. Then it's going to be up to Paul
himself. If he doesn't make a man of himself, it'll be his own fault."
"I think a good call-down is what he needs," answered Roy, "and the
colonel ought to give it to him."
"I reckon he thinks that isn't his business," commented Norman. "It's
certainly not ours. I reckon it'll work out all right."
"Like as not this is Paul's idea of roughing it in the wilds," suggested
Roy.
"Then there's hope," answered his chum. "He'll be out of the swing of
this in a few days and when he learns what the real thing is, if he likes
it and takes to it, he'll forget this kind of life."
Finally the evening for the departure arrived. There was no fixed hour,
but Colonel Howell's party had an early supper at the hotel and then a
gang of Indians carried their newly packed equipment to the boats. All
these articles were dropped indiscriminately as the Indians felt
disposed, and soon after six o'clock Norman and Roy were ready for the
long voyage. Count Paul had turned his camera over to the young aviators
and their first step was to make a number of snaps of the boats and their
crews.
Then, piling their rifles and their new blankets in the bow of
Moosetooth's boat, the boys took station on the riverbank, prepared to
embark at any moment.
In keeping with the methods that they had found common, it was then
discovered that parts of the provisions had not yet arrived. Colonel
Howell and Paul had not accompanied the boys directly to the boats. Even
after a wagon had arrived with the last of the provisions, and these had
been distributed by the Indians on the high heaped cargo, there was yet
no sign of their patron. Nor was Count Zept anywhere to be seen.
The Indian wives of the crew sat around their little tepee fires, but
between them and their husbands passed no sign of emotion or farewell;
this, in spite of the fact that no one on the boats might expect to
return for several weeks.
It began to grow cooler and finally the night fog began to fall over the
swift brown river.
As the sun began to grow less, the barren hills on the far side of the
river turned into a dark palisade. Finally Colonel Howell appeared. He
had been engaged in settling his accounts and a merchant who came with
him spent some time in checking up goods already aboard the scow. But
when Colonel Howell learned that the Count was not present he strolled
away almost nonchalantly.
"It's the way of the North," almost sighed Roy. "Nothing goes on schedule
in this part of the world."
"Why should it?" grunted Norman. "When your journey may mean a year's
delay in getting back, what's a few minutes more or less in starting
out?"
It was far after nine o'clock and the sun was dropping behind the
southern hills--the air chillier and the fog deeper, when Paul finally
appeared. His boisterous manner was all the testimony needed to indicate
how he had spent the evening.
With him was his friend, the sergeant of police. He had undoubtedly been
with his new comrade to celebrate the departure, but the dignified
officer, being now in the field of duty, gave few signs of personal
indiscretions. For the first time he was formally presented to all and in
a courteous and high-bred manner extended to the voyageurs his good
wishes for a safe voyage.
Before the representative of the law, each Indian at once sprang to his
feet and lifted his hat. And to each of these in turn the uniformed
policeman answered in salute. When it seemed to Norman and Roy that there
would be no end to the long delay, Colonel Howell also reappeared. With a
nod of his head to all, he spoke quickly in the Cree language to his
steersmen.
Old Moosetooth grunted a command and the men ran to the hawsers holding
the scows against the current. Then Moosetooth and La Biche, without even
a look at their unconcerned families sitting stolidly in the gloom on the
riverbank, took their places in the stern of each boat. Each began, as he
leaned on his oar, to cut himself a new pipe of tobacco and Colonel
Howell turned to the policeman.
"Sergeant," he remarked, "I think we are ready. Will you examine the
outfit?"
The tall sergeant bowed slightly and with a graceful wave of his hand,
stepped to the edge of one of the nearest scows. With a cursory glance at
the mixed cargo of boxes, barrels and bags--hardly to be made out in the
twilight--he turned and waved his hand again toward Colonel Howell. Then,
quite casually, he faced the two steersmen.
"Bon jour, gentlemen," he exclaimed and lifted his big white hat.
Colonel Howell and his friends took the sergeant's hand in turn and then
sprang aboard the boat. While the two steersmen lifted their own hats and
grunted with the only show of animation that had lit their faces, the
ceremony of inspection was over and the long voyage was officially begun.