THE _Gitchie Manitou_ WINS A RACE
Norman and Roy soon became restless and after a few days' idleness asked
Colonel Howell for permission to make their delayed visit to the Pointe
aux Tremble Indian camp. The day set for this second relief expedition
promised a continuation of clear dry weather. Almost duplicating their
last provisions, the monoplane got away at dawn. At the last moment, Paul
was substituted for Roy, and he and Norman made an uneventful flight
directly up the river. This time a landing was made at the foot of the
bluff on the smooth ice of the river. The provisions were distributed and
then the two boys visited the cabin of the paralytic Indian.
"Chandler probably will be out running his trap line," suggested Norman,
"but he may be at home."
Within the cabin they found only the Indian. To Norman's surprise, the
rusty traps still hung on the wall, with no sign of having been touched
since he and Roy visited the cabin. Norman's observing eye at once
examined the other parts of the room.
In the bunk corner there was absolutely no change. He would have sworn
that Chandler had not slept in the place since he returned. A sudden
suspicion coming into Norman's mind, he walked to the bunk corner of the
room and pointed to the crevice from which they had taken the letter. The
Indian grinned. Then Norman pointed to the curing boards, made motions
with his hands to indicate a man of about Chandler's build and other
pantomimes of inquiry. The Indian responded with his usual grin, then
shook his head. Norman's jaw dropped.
"Paul," he exclaimed, "we're a lot of chumps. Chandler never came back to
this camp. He hired the best dog team in this part of the world and while
we were all asleep he's been hurrying to Edmonton. He's had seven days'
start, and the way these dogs travel, he'll cover that distance in jig
time. Come on," he almost shouted, "we've got something to do now besides
feeding lazy Indians. The hunters are back, anyway, and there won't be
any starving around here. We've got to get back to Colonel Howell as fast
as the airship'll go."
Philip's supper was awaiting the return of the _Gitchie Manitou_, but its
serving was long delayed. For an hour the conference that took place
immediately upon the safe housing of the monoplane continued while each
participant contributed his views. The conclusion was inevitable. Colonel
Howell must proceed to Edmonton at once. There was a discussion as to
whether this perilous flight should be made to Athabasca Landing, where
Colonel Howell would have to make the last hundred miles of journey by
train, or whether the trip through the Arctic skies should be made by
compass directly to Edmonton.
Finally it was decided, in view of the comprehensive charts that they had
of the intervening country, that the latter should be the program, even
if it were necessary to make a landing on the way.
"The trains from Athabasca Landing," concluded Colonel Howell at last,
"run only three times a week, and I'm not sure of the schedule."
"Then," announced Norman, "we'll do it by _Air Line_. We can make it, if
you want to trust me."
"I think it's worth while," laughed the colonel.
"You haven't much time," broke in the excited Roy. "They've had good hard
snow, and this half-breed's got a great team, I understand. If they made
forty miles a day, and I've heard o' them doing that, you'll have to get
a hustle on you."
"We leave to-night," announced Norman, springing to his feet. "Philip!"
he called.
Colonel Howell, with a disturbed look on his face, interrupted:
"Couldn't we leave in the morning--early?" he suggested. "I think I'd
rather ride by daylight."
"You'll feel more comfortable by night," laughed Paul, "and you don't
need to miss your sleep. Norman won't have any use for you."
The discussion did not close for some time after this and when supper was
finally served, the last detail had been arranged. The meal proceeded
without any sign of the momentous event to follow. At its conclusion,
Colonel Howell turned to Ewen and Miller and said, almost nonchalantly:
"Boys, I'm going to leave you for a few days. Your friend Chandler is on
his way to Edmonton to make trouble for me."
Both men looked startled and Ewen exclaimed:
"What's that?"
"The same thing he wanted you boys to do and in which you wouldn't join
him."
"What do you mean?" Miller managed to ask.
"What you wrote him a letter about," answered Colonel Howell calmly. "I
read that. But," he went on, as both men gave new signs of alarm, "I'm
goin' to forget it. Do you men want to go on working for me as you have
in the past?"
Flushed faces made any other answer unnecessary.
"All right," continued Colonel Howell, "then that's settled. But I want
you to get Chandler out of your systems. You can stay here. To show you
that I trust you, I'm going to leave you in the camp again."
Immediately, activity began; Norman and Roy working on the _Gitchie
Manitou_, the half-breed preparing supplies, and Colonel Howell making
notes and getting papers together on the still littered table.
On an air line, the young aviators estimated the distance across country
at about two hundred and seventy miles. After a consultation it was
decided to proceed at the rate of about thirty-five miles an hour. This
meant eight hours in the air. As there was no need of reaching the
distant city before eight o'clock, it was agreed to start at midnight. At
seven o'clock, all preparations having been made, Norman turned in for a
few hours' sleep.
Colonel Howell devoted some time to his private arrangements and spent
the remainder of the evening discussing the flight with the other
occupants of the cabin. Norman being sound asleep at twelve o'clock, the
others agreed not to arouse him for another hour, considering the work he
had done that day. But at one o'clock new activity began.
A match was again applied to the gas well and the monoplane was whirled
out into the spectacular illumination. There could be only a brief
handshake all around. Then, without a slip, the monoplane was off in the
light of the waning moon.
Least of all did the voyagers suffer from the keen cold. With a plentiful
store of gasoline, the heaters were at once started but in a short time
Colonel Howell asked Norman to shut off one of them. The passenger had
been assigned the duty of watching the engine gauge and recording it,
together with the chronometer record. Norman did not find this necessary
but it was a check upon his own observations and a safeguard against
errors in noting their progress.
It was too dark for the colonel to feel any sense of apprehension. As
there was no wind, the conditions were ideal for an aerial flight, and
Norman having once shaped his course, the powerful car sped on its way as
if sliding downhill. In time the monotonous whir of the propellers
appeared to have its effect upon Colonel Howell, and Norman caught him
dozing more than once. He then explained to his passenger that his
observations were no longer necessary and persuaded Colonel Howell to
wrap up in his blanket and go to sleep.
When the passenger aroused himself, about five o'clock, Norman asked him
to make some tea and see what Philip had prepared in the way of food. It
was his only way of relaxing under the strain and he ate heartily. Later,
Colonel Howell again pulled his blankets about him and did not stir until
the gray of the winter dawn was in the air. The moon had long since
disappeared but the stars were brilliant.
When the land beneath came into view, the oil prospector took his place
in front of the port section for his first view of the world from the
clouds. Then day came and the east grew red. No settlement was yet in
sight, but as the golden sun began to glisten on the snow-weighted trees,
Colonel Howell gave an exclamation.
"There's the railroad!" he shouted. "We're crossing it."
"Just after eight o'clock," muttered Norman, as he craned his neck to
make out the land beneath. "We're certainly this side o' the town and
we'll take to the tracks."
With this, he brought the steady airship about and began to follow the
rails, which were now plain enough below. For another quarter of an hour,
the monoplane made its way steadily to the south and then a sudden blur
broke the landscape in the distance.
"There she is," remarked Norman, almost casually. "Don't forget your
packages and bundles."
At nine o'clock Colonel Howell and Norman were eating breakfast at the
Royal George Hotel. At half past ten they were leaving the big new
Provincial Capitol Building. The colonel had filed his claims and had his
papers safely in his pocket. A little later, entering the busy hotel
office once more, Norman hastily caught his patron's sleeve. Seated in
front of the hotel fireplace, as if gratefully drinking in its warmth,
was the worn and emaciated Chandler. By his side was Fosseneuve the
half-breed, already far gone in intoxication.
Colonel Howell stepped forward, as if about to speak to the defeated man.
Then he paused.
"Can't do any good," he exclaimed in an undertone to Norman. "We got
there first. And he might have beaten us at that if he hadn't stopped
here in the hotel too long. We'll take the afternoon train down to
Calgary for a day's visit. Then, when you're ready, we'll go back to the
boys."