CHAPTER IIICOLONEL HOWELL MAKES A NOVEL PROPOSAL
“My name is Howell,” began the man; “Hill Howell,” he went on, “and in the places where I’m best known I’m frequently called ‘Colonel’ Howell, but I don’t get that title because I am a native Kentuckian. I secured it up in this part of the world—just why, I don’t know. I’m not going to tell you the story of my life or of any remarkable adventures, because I’m only a plain business man. But I’ll have to repeat to you some account of my experience in the Northwest before you understand why I’m so interested in your machine and in you young men.
“In Kentucky,” resumed Colonel Howell, after he had helped himself to a cigar from his vest pocket, “we once thought we had oil. To prove how little we had, I spent my own small means and, while I got no oil to speak of, I got a considerable knowledge of this industry. This came just in time for me to make my way to Kansas. That was fifteen years ago. ThereI found not only oil but considerable return for my labors. It didn’t make me a rich man, but it gave me all the money I needed.
“Then I discovered that I had considerable of the spirit of adventure in me and I started for the Klondike. Like many another mistaken prospector, I determined to go overland and down the Mackenzie River. With a small party I started down the Athabasca River from Athabasca Landing. I would probably have gone on and died in the wilderness, as most adventurers did who took this route, but when we had gone three hundred miles down the river and were just below the Big Rapids, at a place they call Fort McMurray, I caught the odor of oil again and the Klondike fever disappeared.
“When I saw the tar sands and the plain signs of oil in the Fort McMurray region, I separated from the party and stopped in the new oil region. There were a few prospectors in the vicinity and having got the oil mania again, I found I was not prepared to make more than a preliminary prospect. My former companions had consented to leave me but few provisions. I had to live practically alone and without adequate provisions or turn back towards civilization at once.
“To the others in the field I discredited the possibilities of the region and set out on foot, with a single Indian as a guide, to make my way to Athabasca Landing. Here I planned to secure food and proper tools and machinery to return to Fort McMurray and develop what I believed would be a sensational sub-arctic oil region.”
“I’ve heard about it,” broke in Norman. “You pass Lac la Biche going there, don’t you?”
Colonel Howell nodded and proceeded: “It was impossible to return to Athabasca Landing by canoe, as the river is too swift. For that reason I made a thirty-day trip on foot and reached the Landing with the winter well advanced.
“Here I found I could not get what machinery I needed and I put off my project until the next season when the ice had gone out of the river. I returned to the States and in the following July I went back to the Landing ready to go down the river once more. I took with me, from Chicago and Edmonton, well-boring machinery and ample provisions for a year’s stay in the wilderness. At Athabasca Landing I found it impossible to buy proper boats and Ilost considerable time in making two large flatboats patterned after the Hudson’s Bay Company’s batteaux.”
“‘Sturgeon heads,’” exclaimed Roy. “I’ve always wanted to see one of them.”
“That’s what they call ’em,” exclaimed the colonel. “I guess I don’t need to describe them to you. Well, when they were completed, I loaded my machinery, quite a batch of lumber, and my flour and pork—I freighted all of this one hundred miles from Edmonton—and with three workmen, set out down the river with an Indian crew and a couple of old-time steersmen.”
“Who were they?” broke in Roy, with apparently uncalled-for eagerness.
“The best on the river,” answered the colonel. “Old Moosetooth Martin and Bill La Biche.”
“Why, they’re here on the ground!” almost shouted Roy.
“Yes,” exclaimed Colonel Howell. “Do you know them? I’m on my way back to the Landing now. They’re going with me again.”
Roy’s mouth was open, as if this was a statement not to be lightly passed over, but Norman stopped him with an impatient: “Go on, please.”
“I’ll tell you about them later,” the colonel added, as if to appease Roy. “They’re both fine old Indians and I’ve been with them a good bit to-day. But even the best of them have their faults. You know, at the Grand Rapids these flatboats ought to be unloaded. Even then the best steersman is bound to lose a boat now and then on the rocks. Both Moosetooth and La Biche cautioned me against running the Rapids loaded, but as it would take a week to portage around the Rapids, I took a chance. Moosetooth got through all right, but La Biche—and I reckon he’s the better man of the two—at least I had him on the more valuable boat—managed to find a rock and we were in luck to reach the bank alive.
“All my iron tubing and drilling machinery disappeared in the Rapids. There was no way to recover it and we went to Fort McMurray in the other boat. It carried my lumber and most of the provisions, but I couldn’t work without tools. There was nothing to do but make the best of it and I left my three men to build a cabin and spend the winter in the wilderness while I went back on foot again to the Landing to buy a new outfit.”
“Gee, that was tough,” commented Norman.
“You boys have lived in the Northwest long enough to have learned the great lesson of this country,” explained Colonel Howell. “This is a region where you can’t have a program and where, if you can’t do a thing to-day, you can do it some other time. And, after all, it isn’t a bad philosophy, just so long as you keep at it and do it sometime. They seem to do things slowly sometimes up in this wilderness land, but they always seem to do them in the end. I guess it’s the Indian way. I notice they always drive ahead until they get there, although there may be a good many stops on the way.”
“Then what?” persisted Roy.
“I had to come back to the States—that was the end of last season,” continued the man, “and now I’m on my way again to reach the Athabasca. My outfit is in Edmonton, I hope. But this year I’ll have a little less trouble. There’s a railroad now between Edmonton and Athabasca Landing and I expect to get my equipment and my stores to the river in freight cars. I’ve been detained by other business and should have been in Fort McMurray by this time, as the ice goes out of the river late in May. And I have my boats this year that I bought before I left the Landing.
“But when I tried to arrange for my old steersmen to pilot me down the river again, I found that energetic Calgary had beaten me to it. Moosetooth and La Biche are not the best boatmen on the Athabasca, but they are the ones I want. And I’m here, waiting for the show to close. They will go with me, and I suppose their families as well,” added Colonel Howell with a grimace, “directly to Athabasca Landing, and in a week from now there is no reason why we should not be drifting down the big river again.”
“Then your trouble’ll begin again, won’t it?” asked Norman.
Instead of answering, Colonel Howell sat in silence a few moments.
“There’s a good deal I might say about the country I’m going into,” he continued at last, “but I think you young men understand it pretty well.”
“Pretty well up into the Barren Lands, isn’t it?” asked Roy.
“The last of the wilderness before you reach the treeless plains,” explained the colonel, “but as far as Fort McMurray the region is a vast trail-less extent of poplar and spruce. The winter comes in November and lasts until June.In that period, when the nights grow long, you have a pretty good imitation of the Arctic. There are Indians here and there and game abounds, but the white man passes only now and then. The dog and sled are yet the winter means of transportation and here you may find the last of the trappers that have made history in the great Northwest.
“Some of this region will undoubtedly in time provide farms, but as yet no farmer has learned how to use the rich black soil of its river lands in the short summer seasons. In time, powerful steamers will navigate the Athabasca and also, in time, there will be railroads. When they come,” the speaker went on with a chuckle, “I hope to be able to supply them with oil. This at least is why, for the third time, I’m making my way into that little-known country.”
“I hope you don’t get dumped again,” suggested Norman.
“How genuinely do you hope that?” asked Colonel Howell instantly and with renewed animation.
“Why, I just hope it,” answered Norman, somewhat perplexed.
Colonel Howell hesitated a moment and then said abruptly: “You two boys are the bestguarantee I could have against another accident. I want you to help me make a success of this thing. I’ve an idea and I got it the moment I saw your aeroplane to-day. Come with me into the wilderness.”
“Us?” exclaimed both boys together.
“Why not?” hastily went on the oil man. “Don’t you see what I’ve been driving at? Don’t you recall the two long trails I made back to civilization—a month each time? Think of this: When I leave Athabasca Landing, the only way by which I can communicate with the world behind me is by courier, on foot; from Fort McMurray this means a tramp of four weeks for me, and even to a skilled Indian it means three hundred miles through the poplar forest.”
“And what could we do?” asked the breathless Roy.
“If what you tell me about your airship is true, you can make almost daily trips for mail. At least, it would be as easy for me to keep in touch with civilization as if I had a railroad train at my disposal,” declared Colonel Howell springing to his feet.
“But we couldn’t do that,” began Norman. “Our fathers—”
“I’ve an idea and I got it the minute I saw your aeroplane to-day.”
“What’s the use of all the energy you have expended on this machine?” demanded the man earnestly. “Is it a dream or do you believe what you have told me? I’m not a millionaire, but I’m sure I could make your services to me worth while. At least you don’t need to hesitate on that score. I think you can do all you have said this machine can do. Anyway, I’ll pay you well for making the attempt, and I’ll undertake to get the consent of your fathers. Of course you can’t go without that. Would you be willing to go if I can arrange this?”
“You bet your life!” announced Roy instantly.
“It’s a pretty serious thing,” began Norman, “and dangerous too—”
“Oh,” broke in Colonel Howell, “then you’d rather have some one else try out your glass cage and electric stoves.”
“But it’s a long way from home,” went on Norman, growing red in the face.
“No farther for you than for me,” explained the colonel, still laughing. “And we’ll all go to Fort McMurray on the flatboats. If you can’t fly back you can at least do what I have done twice—walk.”
“And Moosetooth and La Biche are going to run the boats?” asked Norman.
“They certainly are,” answered Colonel Howell, “and if you’re interested in those things, there’ll be plenty of moose and bear and deer standin’ on the river banks waiting for a shot.”
Norman looked at Roy, who was almost a picture of disgust, and then, in self-defense, he said: “I’d like to go if the folks consent. As for that car, it’ll do everything we’ve said and don’t you forget that.”
Colonel Howell, apparently taking this as a surrender, caught the two boys by their shoulders and exclaimed:
“It’s gettin’ late. Lock up your shop and let’s go and see what your fathers think of my project.”
Elated and nervous, the boys turned and, as if under a hypnotic spell, began to push the car into the aerodrome. And once inside the little building, with set lips, as if working his courage up to that point, Norman broke the silence by saying: “I was going to make my first trip to the States this winter.”
“Next summer would be a better time. Why don’t you go in style?” asked Colonel Howell.“We’ll come out in the spring and we ought to have a comfortable enough home during the bad weather. You can’t spend your money and when you get back home you can make your trip and go all over the States.”
Both boys looked at him as if not knowing what to say next.
“I never hired any aviators,” went on Colonel Howell, with his old smile coming back, “and I don’t know the union price of aerial operators, but I’ll give you your board and keep and three hundred dollars a month apiece while you’re with me. How does that strike you?”
“I don’t think we’ll be worth it,” were the only words that Roy could find to express his dazed feelings.
“But you don’t know anything about that,” said Colonel Howell promptly. “You might easily be worth a great deal more.”
While the colonel spoke, he could not help noticing Norman’s rapid calculation on the ends of his fingers.
“In April, that would be nine months,” remarked Norman at last, “and that’s twenty-seven hundred dollars. We could go to France on that, Roy,” he added suddenly. “Let’s lock up and go home.”
In a few moments the excited aviators and the well-satisfied Colonel Howell emerged from the aerodrome just as young Count Zept ran up.
“Are you fellows going to stay here all night?” he exclaimed, almost out of breath. “I thought you told me you’d meet me at seven o’clock at the car. Father’s been there for a half hour. We’re waiting to take you home.”
It was necessary at once to introduce Colonel Howell to young Zept. As the oil man heard the name, his face brightened anew.
“You’re not the son of Jack Zept, are you?” the colonel asked as he grasped the young man’s hand.
“John C. Zept is my father’s name,” answered the Count. “He’s a horse ranchman. Do you know him?”
The colonel chuckled. “Of course,” he answered hastily. “I met him on the upper Peace; shot sheep with him in ’95. Forgot he lived here. If I can join you, I’d like to meet your father. You can put me down at the King George. I think,” the smiling colonel added, turning to Norman and Roy, “that you boys had better go home, talk it over with yourfathers, and I’ll look you up a little later in the evening.”
“Anywhere you like,” exclaimed the young Count, “the machine’s waiting. Father’ll be glad to see an old friend.”
CHAPTER IVCOLONEL HOWELL DISCOVERS AN OLD FRIEND IN JACK ZEPT
Although it was well after seven o’clock, it was wholly light, for in Calgary in July dusk does not come until after ten o’clock. While Norman looked at his watch to confirm the delay, Colonel Howell remarked:
“It seems good to get back to long hours again. When we get up to Fort McMurray,” and he chuckled, “you boys can read your newspapers, if you can find any, out of doors after eleven o’clock.”
“Fort McMurray?” broke in young Zept. “Where’s that?”
“Way up in the wilderness,” responded Norman, laughing. “Looks as if we’re going to beat you into the northland.”
Instantly the young Count caught Norman by the arm and stopped him.
“What are you talking about?” he demanded, his face a study in acute interest and surprise.
“Tell you later,” answered Norman. “Your father’s waiting.”
Far from satisfied, the exuberant young Austrian followed the others to Mr. Zept’s waiting car. He was not in error as to his father’s annoyance. The old ranchman, a heavy cigar buried in the corner of his mouth, watched the approach of the party with a scowl. The moment he saw Colonel Howell, however, this expression politely changed. The ranchman did not at once recognize his old shooting friend but without waiting for an introduction he sprang with agility from his handsome motor.
It required but a word, however, for him to place the stranger and then the delay was forgotten. The joviality of the veteran horse raiser took the place of his petulance and, ignoring the young men, the old friends stood arm in arm for ten minutes recounting the past. The result was inevitable. After Colonel Howell had been catechised as to his present location and plans, he could not refuse an invitation to pass the remainder of his short stay in Calgary at the Zept home.
When the two men at last took the rear seat in the car, Norman and Roy in front of them, and Paul seated alongside the chauffeur, orders were given to drive to the King George.
Avoiding the traffic streets and trolley lines, the big car was turned south through the suburban hills. In the meantime, Paul had lost no opportunity to probe into the mystery of Norman’s remark. In return, Norman had rapidly sketched an outline of Colonel Howell’s proposition and of the present situation. Norman’s rapid words seemed at first to have rather a depressing effect on young Zept, and then, when the whole idea had been put before him, his usual animation rose to what was almost excitement.
No sooner had the motor found its way into the broad suburban streets, than Paul almost sprang over the seat back and in a moment had located himself between his father and Colonel Howell on the rear seat.
“Father,” he began impulsively, interrupting some old-time talk, “do you know that Mr. Grant and Mr. Moulton are going to Fort McMurray with Colonel Howell?”
These business details had not reached Mr. Zept, as he and his guest had not yet exhausted their old-time hunting experiences. The result was that Colonel Howell at once related what had taken place that afternoon, to all of which Mr. Zept gave earnest attention. ColonelHowell concluded by telling how he was to see the fathers of the boys that evening in an effort to consummate his deal.
“What do you think about it?” asked Colonel Howell with his usual smile, and looking at Mr. Zept.
The latter paused, as if in grave doubt.
“That’s a hard question to answer,” he said at last. “These young fellows ought to answer it best themselves. Their airship has given a pretty good account of itself. I did not understand that it was more than the ordinary flying machine, but if it is and they feel sure that it can do what they say it will, it seems to me that the whole thing is pretty much a business proposition. You’ve made a fine proposition to the young men, financially. If it wasn’t for that, if you want me to speak frankly, I wouldn’t approve their going into that part of the world simply as prospectors.”
“It’d be great!” broke in his son.
“From your point of view, yes,” answered his father, affectionately dropping his hand upon Paul’s knee, “but you know, my boy, that you have a lot of impractical ideas about this corner of the world.”
“I want to go too,” persisted the young man,who in his eagerness seemed to have given little heed to his father’s words. “Can’t I go with you?” he went on, turning to Colonel Howell.
The latter looked somewhat perturbed. He had no answer ready just then and he needed none.
“You’re taking men with you,” went on Paul as he slid to the edge of the seat. “I’ll go and work for you for nothing. You’ve got to have men on the river and I know I’m as good as any Indian, except Moosetooth of course.” Everyone smiled except Mr. Zept. “And I know there are a lot of things that I could do in camp. I wouldn’t be any good about the airship, I know, but I can shoot and I know I can stand anything that anyone else can. I—”
“Young man,” broke in Mr. Zept at last, “these gentlemen are going north on business. Colonel Howell is not heading a pleasure excursion and I doubt if he has any intention of making an asylum for amateur woodsmen. Let me tell you something: you’ve got to get on in the world and you only do that, as far as I’ve noticed, by having a purpose that has some reward at the end of it. Colonel Howell and these young men have a purpose and they’ll probably profit by it. Playing Indian or wanderingaround on the Barren Lands shooting moose may be romantic enough and may be all you want in life, but it doesn’t bring success as I count it.”
“Your father’s right, young man,” suggested Colonel Howell; “success in life to-day is measured by money. If you want to succeed that way, stay where the money is to be found. I can prove it,” he said, forcing a laugh. “Look at me. What little money I have, I’m dumping into the northern rivers. Then look at your father. He knew the same wilderness you’re trying to break into, but he only goes there for pleasure. He had an idea and he came here and put it over. I don’t know what it brought him, and maybe you don’t. But I reckon you can easily find out by going through a list of bank directors in this town.”
“He’s a millionaire anyway,” Roy exclaimed with some lack of diplomacy.
Mr. Zept did not seem conscious of this remark, for he sat very stern and hard of face.
“When the time comes, my boy, I will take you into this region that you are so full of. Just now, I have other plans for you. We’ll talk these over later.” Then, as if dismissing the entire matter, Mr. Zept began to point out toColonel Howell the improvements of the city while the big machine sped toward the hotel.
Paul, with a sullen look on his face, settled back among the cushions, and Norman and Roy, awed by the decisive tones of the rich man, made no attempt at conversation.
Reaching the hotel, Colonel Howell alighted to prepare his luggage and see to telegrams and mail. Mr. Zept stopped with him while Paul took the young aviators to their homes. A short time later the motor picked up Mr. Zept and his guest and carried them to the Zept home.
Despite his general knowledge of his old friend’s wealth, Colonel Howell was surprised at the sight of his host’s home. This, less than a half a dozen squares from the hotel, occupied a city block and was a mansion resembling a French chateau, built of the yellow stone of the country. In addition to an attractive fence of stone and iron, the extensive yard was surrounded on all sides by a wind-break hedge of tall and uniform swamp cedars.
When the car dashed up the asphalt drive, Colonel Howell only turned toward his host and smiled. But while his elders alighted, under the porte cochere, Paul did not smile.Waiting for his father and their guest to disappear into the magnificent home, he sprang into the motor again and said to the chauffeur: “Drive to the King George Hotel.”
At dinner that evening there was a message from young Paul, excusing himself on the ground of an engagement. When Mr. Zept heard this, he excused himself to telephone to the garage. When he rejoined his guest, his face was again stern and hard, for he knew what his son’s engagement meant.
Dinner over, the ranchman and Colonel Howell made their excuses to Mrs. Zept and to Paul’s young sister and retired to the library. Here Mr. Zept used no ceremony and at once confided to his old friend the greatest trouble of his life. He told how he had brought his son home from Paris because of his wayward ways and how he had found these even more pronounced than he feared.
“He isn’t a bad boy,” explained his father, “and the only trouble he has I think I can correct by home influence.” He even explained where his son was at that moment and did not attempt to conceal his mortification. “It isn’t in the blood,” he went on, “but it’s Paris and the opportunity he had there.”
Colonel Howell had been deeply moved by his friend’s talk, and when the latter used the word “opportunity,” his sober face suddenly lit up.
“That’s it,” he exclaimed, “you’ve hit it. I think I can read the boy like a book. ‘Opportunity’ to go wrong is what did it. I’ve an idea. Cut out this ‘opportunity’ and I think you’ve solved the question.”
“That’s what I want to do,” replied Mr. Zept, with a sigh, “and I’ve been trying to make his home take the place of the saloons, but,” and he shook his head, “you see where he is now.”
“All right,” exclaimed Colonel Howell. “That doesn’t need to discourage you. I think we’ll have to send him where there isn’t any Paris and where there aren’t any cafes.”
“What do you mean?” broke in the disturbed father.
“I mean up to Fort McMurray, where they’ll put a man in jail if they find a drink of whisky on his person.”
Mr. Zept sat upright and darted a look at his old friend.
“That’s right,” went on Colonel Howell. “When you leave Athabasca Landing, the fellow who tells you good-bye is a mounted policeman,and he doesn’t shake hands with you either. If you’ve got a drop of whisky with you, you’ve got to have it inside of you. If you try to take whisky into that country, you’ve got to be smarter than the smartest policemen in the world. The ‘opportunity’ is gone. And there’s another thing,” went on the aroused colonel. “If your boy thinks he’s been robbed of something, when he finds he hasn’t anything to drink, you can see yourself that he’ll have plenty of other things to interest him.”
The agitated ranchman sprang to his feet and took a quick turn around the room.
“Howell!” he exclaimed at last, as he returned and placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder, “this upsets every plan I have.”
“Maybe they ought to be upset,” rejoined the oil man.
“You’re right,” answered his friend thickly. “It’s all pretty sudden and it’s all a kind of a blow to me, but you’re right. What can I do?”
“Easy enough,” responded the other as he relit his cigar; “he wants to go with me. Let him have his way. I’ve never been called upon to attempt anything in the reform line and I don’t think I will be now. Let your son joinus and I think that’ll be the end of what is causing you a good deal of misery. It isn’t a case of curing him of the whisky habit. I believe he’ll simply forget it.”
“Will you take him?” suddenly asked Mr. Zept, his face a little white.
“Sure!” exclaimed Colonel Howell. “Call it settled and get this terrible fear off your mind. Paul’s all right and I’ll bet when you see him again he’ll give an account of himself that’ll make you proud.”
But the boy’s father was not so easily assured. “Howell,” he said in a nervous tone, “you’ve done something for me this evening that I don’t think I’ll ever forget. I don’t often talk about money, but I’m a rich man. From what you’ve told me, I can see you’re yet working pretty hard. You may have plenty of money but no matter as to that. I know it takes a lot of money to do what you’re doing. I’m not doing this to show my appreciation of what you’re willing to do for me, but it looks as if you’re the only real friend I have in the world. Let me put some money into this venture with you—I don’t care how much—but I’ve an interest in your project now—”
The Kentuckian was on his feet in a moment.“Jack,” he began without any show of resentment, “I’ve got all the money I’ll ever need in this world. It’s fine of you to say what you have, but now I’m going to make you a new proposition. I’m willing to take your boy and treat him as my own son but I’ll have to put one condition on it.”
The ranchman only looked his surprise. A wave of his hand indicated that any condition would be met.
“I want him to go with me but I’ll only take him as my guest.”
“Hill,” said Mr. Zept, after looking his friend directly in the eye, “I knew from the moment we first made camp together up on the Peace, that you were the real stuff. I haven’t any way to thank you.”
“Let’s compromise on another of those cigars,” laughed Colonel Howell, “and then, if it is agreeable to you, and I can have the use of your car for a short time, I have some business of my own.”
After a few moments with his hostess, Colonel Howell departed in the motor. As soon as he was out of his host’s hearing, he ordered the driver to take him to the King George Hotel. Still puffing his new cigar, the oil man enteredthe hotel and made a quick examination of the bar room. The person he was looking for was apparently not in sight. Nodding his head to an occasional acquaintance, Colonel Howell made his way downstairs to the fashionable cafe.
He did not obtrude himself, but called the head waiter and after a question, took out his card and scribbled a line on it. A few moments later, in the lobby of the hotel, he was joined by young Count Zept, who explained that he had been dining with a few friends. Colonel Howell motioned him to a seat and gave no sign of noticing the boy’s flushed face and somewhat thick speech.
He had spoken hardly a dozen words to the excited young man, when the latter seemed to throw off his condition as if it had been a cloak. He even discarded the cigarette he was smoking. Then the colonel resumed his talk with the young man and for several minutes spoke very earnestly in low tones.
As he concluded, the young man sat sober and tense.
“Colonel Howell,” he said, “I’ll do it. I understand everything. You have given me the greatest chance of my life.”
“Then,” came the cheery and quick rejoinder of the Kentuckian, relighting his cigar, as he appeared to be always doing under any stress, “we’ll begin right away. This is a business proposition and we’re all business people. We haven’t any time to lose. I want you to go home and begin to pack your kit. The machine is outside. I think your father would like to talk to you.”
“I’m ready now,” came the quick response. A moment later the Zept motor was on its way home.
CHAPTER VNEGOTIATING 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 prospectorreached 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 theGitchie Manitouwas 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 Stampedewas 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 machinewith 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 .22, put it in a bag, throw a few cartridges 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 goingto 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, theGitchie Manitouhad 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 afour-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 backto 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.