“WE HAVE MET WITH DISASTER”
Curlie’s fingers, working rapidly yet with trained precision, drew
various articles from his belt. A coil of fine wire, two long spools made
of some black substance, a pocket spirit lamp, a miniature metal retort,
three small balloons made of a specially prepared elastic fiber; all
these and many more things appeared as if by magic, and were spread out
upon a blanket on the cot.
After unwinding and winding again some yards of fine copper wire, he
snapped open the metal-cased spirit lamp and a tiny flame appeared.
Attaching a balloon to the retort he applied the flame to the body of the
retort. At once the balloon began to expand. Chemicals already in the
retort were assuming a gaseous form.
Just here he found himself facing a difficulty; the balloons were going
to expand to a size beyond that of the windows. With lightning-like
decision he climbed upon a chair and thrust balloon, retort, spirit lamp
and all out of the window. There he held them all at arm’s length.
“Might be seen, but I can’t help it,” he muttered.
The balloon was tugging at his hand. When the tug had grown strong he
snapped on a rubber band, withdrew the retort, tied the balloon to a
round of the chair and was at once busy with a second balloon.
When all three balloons were bobbing about outside the window he breathed
a sigh of relief.
Attaching a spool of fine wire to a silk cord which was tied to all three
balloons, he allowed the balloons to rise while he played out two strands
of wire. Having reached the second spool he allowed the fine copper wire
aerial which he had thus made to rise with the balloons until they had
reached a height of three hundred feet.
A fine, insulated copper wire ran from the aerial to the ground. This he
attached to an instrument in his belt. Having tuned in on 200 he sat down
calmly to repeat in a low tone at regular intervals:
“S. O. S.—S. O. S.—S. O. S.”
It was the only way he had been able to think of for letting the world
know he was in trouble.
It brought results, for soon to his waiting ears came a gruff grumble
which resembled the growl of a bear disturbed from his slumber:
“Hey! What’s the rumpus? What do you want?”
“Who are you?” Curlie whispered back.
“Deputy Marshal McDonald of the U. S. Station at Sinizols. Who the blazes
are you?”
Slowly, distinctly, in a tense whisper Curlie told of his predicament.
“I know ’em,” came in a roar through the air. “They stole those deer.
Don’t let ’em know you know. When they come in let ’em listen to me. Tell
’em who I am. They know me. That’ll settle ’em. Tell ’em I’ll follow ’em
to the Pole if they don’t let you go. No—don’t tell ’em. Let me. They
don’t know about radiophones. Just got mine last week. They’re
superstitious. It’ll knock ’em dead. Let me tell ’em.”
“All right,” whispered Curlie, “keep your batteries connected and stand
by. I’ll see what I can find out.
“Nothing like the little old radio,” he told himself; “nothing at all
like it when you’re in a peck of trouble.”
Hanging his receiver on a nail he turned toward the door. Placing his ear
against a crack, he listened.
To his surprise, he found that the men were speaking English. “One of
them is a half-breed, maybe of another tribe, and doesn’t understand the
native language of the others,” was his mental comment.
As he now and then caught a snatch of the conversation, his blood ran
cold. There could be no mistaking the subject of their debate. They were
discussing the question of whether or not, he, Curlie, should be killed.
The half-breed was standing out against it, while the others insisted
that it was the only safe thing to do. So determined were they about it
and so earnest in their debate that at times their voices rose almost to
a shout.
“If you were to consult me in the matter,” Curlie whispered to himself,
“I would most certainly agree with my old friend, the half-breed.”
Even as he joked with himself, the true significance of his situation was
borne more closely in upon him. Here he was many miles from human
habitation in the heart of a wilderness. Three men calmly debated his
destruction. Two against one; there could be no question of the verdict.
Escape was impossible. The windows were too small. The men were
powerfully built; there was no chance to fight his way to freedom.
There stood between him and death a slender wire reaching up to two yet
more slender ones hanging in the sky. What if the gas escaped from the
balloons? What if a sudden gust of wind sent them crashing down into the
treetops to tear and tangle his slender aerials? What if the deputy at
the other end should make some mistake and be unable to listen in?
Little wonder that, as he stood there listening, waiting, his face turned
gray with anxiety and fear.
In the meantime an important message had come to Joe and Jennings as they
listened in on long wave lengths from their camp some ten miles from the
cabin. The message was from the explorer, Munson.
“Munson’s Expedition - Munson - speaking,” came the voice from the air.
“We - have met - with disaster. Dash to - Pole - abandoned. Ice - began -
piling - at - four - this morning. Many supplies - much - gasoline -
lost. Will - not - have - enough - gasoline - to - bring - planes - to -
land. One - plane - smashed. Cannot - bring - food - only - men. If -
supporting - party - can be - sent - from - due - north - of - Flaxman -
Island - it - may save - our lives.”
Joe Marion listened to the message as it was repeated three times, then
turned a grave face to Jennings.
“That’s serious,” he said after he had repeated the message. “I might
answer it but what could I promise him?”
“You’d only give our position away to the outlaw.”
“I might try to relay the message to others who might help.”
“There’s no one near enough.”
“Then the only thing we can do is to try to reach them with such supplies
as we can carry.”
“Looks that way just now,” said Jennings, wrinkling his brow. “We might
think of something later. How about the outlaw? Do we get him first?”
“That’s the question. We’ll have to wait and see. May get another message
later. In the meantime, let’s turn in early and get a start to-morrow
before daybreak. The importance of our mission to the north has been
greatly increased.”