CONSPIRACY.
"This is no place for us!" exclaimed Angus, pointing out the obvious.
"But we can't move our ship without a block-and-tackle," objected Tom,
"and we haven't one."
"We have plenty of rope, though," contributed Jimmy, "and we can
whittle out pulleys if we have to."
"Take too long," objected Angus. "We've got to get out of here. A winch
would be easier than pulleys."
"Let's make a winch then," suggested Tom. "Come on."
Under his guidance, they cut down a tree about eight inches thick,
and cut off a log about six feet long, with three pieces of branch
projecting at almost right angles from one end.
Just beyond the top of the incline, up which they had been trying
to push the airplane, there stood two trees five feet apart. From
these trees the men trimmed all the low branches, except one on each,
projecting away from the valley at a height of about four feet above
the ground.
Into the crotches thus formed, they lifted their log. The rope, hitched
to the bow of the plane, was secured to this log. Then they took turns,
two of them at the handles of the winch thus formed, while the third
chocked the wheels of the plane to keep it from sliding back.
It was hard work, but the plane actually moved, and soon was out of
the awful magnetic valley. To their delight, they found that the motor
functioned perfectly again, now that it was beyond the influence of the
lodestones.
Some further time was consumed in wheeling the craft, with assistance
from its whirling propellers, until they finally jockeyed it into an
open space large enough for a take-off.
But before they left, they carried off all the Skraeling rifles,
forty-three in number, cached them beside a large rock in the jungle,
where they could easily be found again. For the rifles would have been
too heavy a load for their plane to carry, in addition to the three men.
The reptiles and the little _skwaas_ were just picking the last shreds
of meat from the white bones of the dobrat, as the three men soared up
and away to the northward once more.
The rest of the flight home was uneventful, and soon they landed,
amid stirred-up clouds of red pollen, in the fields which flanked the
plateau of the Viking city.
Great was the rejoicing at their return, for they had delayed so long
_en route_ that every one had begun to worry about them. And even
greater was the rejoicing, when it was learned that Nick Fratelli and
Cicero Tony Schultz would menace them no more. The power of the enemy
was broken forever. Leaderless and nearly weaponless, they had now been
driven further from the Viking strongholds than ever before.
During their absence, Nils, the boy bishop, had dug up the body of
Captain Ferreira and had given it a stupendous flaming Viking burial at
sea, in an endeavor to make an impression on little Terry. The girl did
seem impressed, and Nils appeared to have made so much progress with
her that he scorned to make any hostile move toward Tom on the latter's
return.
Terry had suppressed her anxiety at Tom's long delay, and now Tom made
no effort to see her, much as he desired to. Poor chap! The loving
reunion of Jimmy with Borghild, and Angus with Astrid, made him lonely.
After a rest, he and Angus each took one trip back to bring in
the rifles, while preparations were made on the plateau for a big
celebration of their final victory over the Skraelings.
* * * * *
Great preparations were made for the celebration of the Skraelings'
downfall. A huge banquet was held in the assembly hall. Theresa
Ferreira occupied the place of honor at the right hand of Bishop Nils.
Almost every one regarded them as practically betrothed.
Upon Scarface, Nils bestowed the rank of _yarl_. Tom Jones, Mike
Murphy, Little Arty, and even Charley Loy were knighted. Otho the
Silver-tongued, _yarl_ of a distant city, sang a saga, especially
composed for the occasion, in which he recounted, madly garbled,
the cruise of the Miami, and the other adventures of the new Yarl
Fee-ess-med-air, which is Norse for "Scarface."
Speeches were made, in the boisterous language of the Vikings, by Nils
and Eric and Angus. And then the bishop called on Scarface Boston Jimmy
for a few remarks.
The new _yarl_ thanked them for the honor which they had bestowed upon
him, and expressed his appreciation of having had the opportunity of
battling side by side with them against the common enemy, and his
regret at ever having conspired against them.
"And now," he concluded in broken Norse, "you doubtless wish to know
where I plan to settle, for as a true Viking I assume that you will
give me no lands, but rather will send me forth to conquer my own
yarldom.
"Two hundred miles to the north-eastward, where your glider first
sighted us when we invaded the center of the earth, there is a
peninsula which I surveyed from a mountain top. At that time it
appealed to me. I visioned it netted with roads and dotted with teeming
cities. I stamped my foot on the summit, and took possession in my own
name. The surrounding country seemed uninhabited, even by Skraelings.
The general appearance is more like the outer earth than these lands
here to the southward. So if you will give me men and barges, I will go
and colonize that peninsula, and establish there my yarldom."
His Borghild beamed with pride.
He struck his sword on the rough board table, for he was garbed as a
Viking of the Vikings, and shouted, "Who will volunteer to sail in the
fleet of James Lefavour?"
"I will!" cried Tom Jones, springing to his feet.
"And so will I," cried Little Arty.
"And I," added Mike Murphy.
"And I. And I. And I," chimed in Vikings from all over the hall.
Bishop Nils smiled with approval, and pressed Theresa's hand. His
rival, Tom Jones, had been the first to volunteer in this new
adventure, from which he might never return.
When the commotion was over Tom obtained the floor and suggested that,
after the next sleep, he and Scarface should fly up to the new yarldom
to reconnoiter. And the bishop smiled again, and hastened to approve.
The next morning quite a crowd came down to see them off. Eric and his
wife Helga. Angus and his wife Astrid. Borghild to bid godspeed to her
Yimmy. Nils and Theresa, arm in arm, the boy bishop anxious to show off
his conquest, and to triumph over Tom to the very last.
Tom had brought a large bundle of his belongings. And Borghild, smiling
slyly, also brought a large bundle, ostensibly for Jimmy. These were
stowed into the cockpit of the plane.
The motor was started, the skids were removed, and Tom settled into the
driver's seat.
Then Scarface stepped off to the edge of the crowd for a fond farewell
embrace of Borghild.
At the same moment Helga and Astrid drew Nils one side.
"Let go of Theresa for a moment, if you can," they cajoled him. "We
have an important secret for you--it concerns her."
Then, as they led him away from the crowd, the airplane motor gave an
impatient roar behind them, as they bent near to whisper in his ear.
"I can't hear a word you say," exclaimed Nils a bit testily. "You'll
have to speak a little louder."
"All right!" they shouted. "What we wanted to tell you was that
Theresa's replacing Scarface and is eloping with Tom Jones in the
plane!"
Nils wheeled.
The crowd was scattering as the plane soared from the field, sending up
a cloud of red pollen. Then it sped away to the northward, with Tom and
his eloping bride waving good-by to those below.
* * * * *
The elopers adjusted to their ears the phones installed long ago
by Eric and Angus to make conversation possible above the roar of
the motors. As the plateau city gradually faded behind them in the
distance, Tom suggested:
"Let's land somewhere and have a real talk at last, dear."
So the amphibian plane volplaned down to the water, and then taxied up
to the beach of a little island. Tom clambered out of the cockpit, and
assisted the erstwhile tomboy to alight, which she did shyly, blushing.
The two sat down on the sand, nestling in each other's arms. Tom broke
the silence to ask humbly, "How did you happen to pick me, when you
could have become queen of all the center of the earth by marrying Nils
Uppri? Is it just because you wouldn't marry a priest?"
"No," she replied, "I got over that idea long ago, for bishops are
different down here, more like kings or congressmen or something, than
like the bishops of my church, I don't know just why I didn't fall for
Nils. We got along fine together in our log fort."
Tom glowered, but Theresa leaned over and kissed him, until he smiled
again.
"You know, it's a funny thing," said she. "At first, I thought I cared
for Nils; but after a while every time he would kiss me and put his
arms around me, I'd shut my eyes and make believe it was you."
"I'd rather do it myself," interjected Tom, suiting the action to the
word.
How these two flew out through the polar orifice of the earth, and down
over the continent of Greenland in the dead darkness of polar winter,
finally to crash off the coast of Nova Scotia, would take too long to
tell. Suffice it to state that they lived through their hardships,
reached Boston, and were duly married by a cardinal in person.
From them I learned this story, for they looked me up because of my
having written up the earlier adventures of Eric and Angus.
They are now as happy as I would wish for them. The fly in the ointment
is that none of Tom's Back Bay friends will believe his story of
Chicago gangsters, the frozen north, and the land beyond the pole. They
claim; these bluestockings, that it is all a mere yarn to cover up the
bald fact that Tom has gone and married a little gutter-snipe whom he
picked up somehow during the summer--this in spite of the fact that the
girl is rapidly developing into as fine a lady as one would care to
know.
But they love each other devotedly, and may eventually live down the
suspicions of his friends.
Incidentally, the little old ex-jockey, named Arty, was let onto the
secret of their intended flight, and sent out a message by them. He
wants the Sydney broadcasting station to use the Rogers underground
aërial occasionally, so that he can try to tune in on them. Australian
papers please copy.
THE END.