CHAPTER VITHE EXPEDITION STRIKES A SNAG IN EDMONTON
At three o’clock the fast express pulled out of the big depot at Calgary on its way to Edmonton, then the northern limit of railroad transportation on the American Continent. A part of the train was the sealed baggage car carrying the airship. In the day coach, with their bags in their laps, and still stolid of face, sat Moosetooth Martin and old La Biche. For the moment their pipes reposed in their vest pockets. Each was eating an orange. Far in the rear of the train, Colonel Howell’s little expedition was making itself comfortable in a stateroom. Somewhat to the surprise of the younger members of the party, Mr. Zept had joined them.
The corners of the stateroom and the near-by vestibule of the car were crammed with the personal belongings of those headed for Fort McMurray.
Even in the excitement of leaving and thefarewells to the members of their families and friends, neither Norman nor Roy failed to notice that the young Count’s face again bore the flush that did not come from exertion. Mr. Zept’s face also bore the look that the boys had come to know, the expression that they could not fail to connect with the indiscretions of his son.
If Colonel Howell saw these things, nothing about him indicated it. Having divested himself of his coat, he put himself at once in charge of the party, and was full of animation.
Within a few moments young Zept left the stateroom, without protest from his father, and the two boys partly lost themselves in a close view of the country through which they were passing.
“Things are changing very fast in this region,” explained Mr. Zept, motioning to the irregular hill-dotted country, in which patches of vegetation alternated with semi-arid wastes. “See how irrigation is bringing the green into this land. Ten years ago, for fifty miles north of Calgary, we called this The Plains. It’s all changing. It’s all going to be farms, before long. You’ll be surprised, however,” he continued, addressing the boys. “Long before night we’ll run out of this onto the green prairies.Long before we get to Edmonton, we’ll be in some of the best farming land in the world. And it goes on and on, more or less,” he added with a faint smile, “a good deal farther than we know anything about—maybe as far as Fort McMurray,” he concluded.
“There isn’t any reason why Fort McMurray can’t be a Calgary some day,” replied Colonel Howell; “that is, when the railroads start towards Hudson’s Bay.”
“You’ll have to have some land too,” suggested Mr. Zept. “If you just had a few good prairies and some grass lying loose around up there, that’d help.”
“How do you know we haven’t?” answered the colonel.
“I don’t,” exclaimed Mr. Zept. “If you have, just send me word. We might start a few horse ranches up there.”
As the train sped on and all had adjusted themselves to the limits of their little room, after a time Mr. Zept spoke again: “I wish I had the time to go up there with you,” he began, “but of course, that’s impossible. I’m going to see you away from Edmonton in good shape. By the way,” he remarked, “I’ve been wondering just how you’re going to find thingsup there, after a year’s absence. You say you left three men there. What are they doing?”
“Well,” answered Colonel Howell, “they’re all on the pay roll. One of ’em’s an Englishman from Edmonton, and two of ’em I brought from the gas fields of Kansas. The Kansas men have worked for me for several years.”
“Must have had a pretty easy job, with nothing to do but punish your provisions all winter,” suggested Mr. Zept.
“Don’t you think it,” exclaimed his friend. “They had plenty of work cut out for them. In the first place they had to build a cabin, and they had the tools to make a decent one—tar paper for a roof too. I don’t care for bark shacks. Then I’m taking a boiler and engine up this time and we can probably use a lot of firewood when we get to drilling. They can put in a lot of time cutting dry cordwood.”
“They doing any prospecting?” asked the ranchman.
“They couldn’t do much except look for signs,” answered Colonel Howell. “And, of course, if they have any extra time, the Kansas men have been in the business long enough to know how to do that. They might save me alot of work when I get up there, if they’re on the job,” concluded Colonel Howell.
“A good deal like grub-staking a man, isn’t it?” asked Mr. Zept.
“Not much,” retorted the oil man with decision. “They’re all on my pay roll and they’re all working for me. There isn’t any halves business in what they find, if they find anything. It all belongs to yours truly—or will, when I prove up on my claim.”
“What are the names of the men?” asked Roy with sudden curiosity.
“The Edmonton man I don’t know very well,” answered Colonel Howell. “He is a kind of a long range Englishman and I think his name is Chandler. The other men are Malcolm Ewen and Donald Miller. Ewen and Miller are good boys, and I know they’ll give me a square deal, whether Chandler sticks or not.”
In spite of the general conversation, Norman fancied that Mr. Zept’s annoyance did not grow less, and it was not hard to conclude that this was due to Paul’s absence. Finally both Norman and Roy excused themselves to visit the observation car. They really wanted to find Paul. He was not in the rear car, which fact the young men learned after describing theircompanion to the colored porter, who smiled significantly when he announced that Paul had left the car some time before.
The young men then went through the train and at last found the Count in jovial companionship with Moosetooth and La Biche. It was plain that both the Indians had been drinking, but there was no liquor now in sight, and the three were enjoying their pipes and their cigarettes. The Count had discovered that the Indians knew more French than English, and he was in high conversation with them. The boy himself was even more jovial when he greeted Norman and Roy with hearty slaps on the back.
For some moments the visitors attempted to join in the conversation between the Indians and Paul, but the conditions were such that the young aviators soon lost interest and they invited young Zept to return to the stateroom for a game of cards.
“Not now,” protested the Count, dropping into a seat opposite the Indians again. “My friends here are great Frenchmen. They have been telling me about the Barren Lands. Besides,” and he frowned a little, “I didn’t know the governor was coming. I don’t think I ought to see him just now. He ain’t much for this sort of thing.”
“What sort of thing?” asked Norman somewhat brusquely.
“You know,” answered the Count. “I was just telling the boys good-bye. I’ll be all right in a little while, and then I’ll come back.”
“You aren’t fooling anyone,” broke in the quick-tongued Roy, “and I think Colonel Howell wants to see you.”
Count Zept’s laugh ended and he at once arose and followed the young men back to the stateroom. His reappearance seemed to ease his father’s mind, and when the three young men and Colonel Howell began a game of auction the incident seemed almost forgotten.
At six o’clock, the superintendent of the dining car came to announce to Colonel Howell that his special table was ready, and the party went in to dinner.
When this elaborate meal was concluded, an hour and a half later, the warm afternoon had cooled and the train was well into the fertile farm land that distinguishes the great agricultural regions south of Edmonton. Somewhat after ten o’clock, the long daylight not yet at an end, the journey came to a close in the city of Strathcona. They had reached the Saskatchewan River. Loading their baggageinto two taxicabs, they made a quick trip across the river to Edmonton and the King Edward Hotel.
It was with a feeling of happiness that Norman and Roy found themselves on what is now almost the frontier of civilization. Their joy did not lie in the fact that hereabouts might be found traces of the old life, but that they were at last well on their way toward their great adventure.
Rooms were at once secured and Mr. Zept and Paul immediately retired. Norman and Roy lingered a while to learn from Colonel Howell the next step.
“The crates will come across the river early to-morrow morning,” he explained, “and we’ll catch the Tuesday train at eight thirty for Athabasca Landing. We’ll be there to-morrow evening. Turn in and get a good night’s sleep.”
It was no trouble for the boys to do this, and at seven o’clock the next morning they were waiting for their friend and patron in the office. When he appeared he was in company with Mr. Zept and Paul, having apparently just aroused them.
“Well, boys,” he began, using his perpetual smile, “we’ve struck a little snag. But rememberthe philosophy of the country—what you can’t do to-day, do when you can. It’s the train!”
“What’s the matter?” exclaimed Norman.
“Well,” explained Colonel Howell, “you know they’re just finishing the railroad and I was told that the trains are running to Athabasca Landing. They were running a passenger train about twenty-five miles out, but beyond that there hasn’t been anything but a construction train. There’s a new Provincial Railway Commission and it decided only the other day that no more passengers could be carried. The road hasn’t been turned over yet by the contractor and they’re afraid to let anyone ride on the construction train. We could get as far as the passenger train goes and there we’d be stalled. Looks like I’d have to do some hustling.”
“You can go in an automobile,” suggested young Zept, who apparently had secured some information about the country.
But Colonel Howell shook his head. “There are only two automobiles in that service and they’re both stuck somewhere in the mud between here and the Landing. Besides, that wouldn’t do us much good. I find that mytwo carloads of oil machinery are yet in Edmonton and then there’s the airship crates.”
“Can’t we carry it all by wagon?” asked Norman.
“Hardly,” responded the colonel. “It’d make a caravan. We might get through in good weather but the trail is impassable now. We’ve got to go by train.”
“And can’t!” commented Roy.
“Not to-day,” laughed Colonel Howell, “but the season’s young yet. There’ll be another train starting out day after to-morrow. We’ll have to turn up something. Meanwhile, let’s have breakfast.”
This meal over, Norman and Roy accompanied Colonel Howell out into the city. As they well know, Edmonton was the town from which all were forced to take their start into the northern country and, as the colonel had already discovered, they soon confirmed the fact that transportation facilities were in a chaotic condition. A stage was to leave that day, but its passenger facilities were wholly inadequate, and what there were had been engaged for many days.
The first visit of the investigators was to the offices of the Hudson’s Bay Company, thatgreat trading institution which is at once the banker and the courier for all travelers in the great Northwest. Although altogether obliging, at the present time the Company was helpless. The agent thought he might arrange for teams, but it would require several days. Then Colonel Howell visited the offices of the railroad contractors, where he ascertained definitely that passage on the construction train was out of the question.
“Maybe we’ll have to stay here until the mud dries,” laughed Colonel Howell.
The two boys almost groaned.
“But something may turn up,” continued Colonel Howell, “and I’ll be enough to look after things. You boys had better take a run over town. If I don’t see you at noon, I’ll see you at dinner this evening.”
The boys returned to the hotel, found that Mr. Zept and his son had finally gone out with friends, and they put in the rest of the day inspecting the lively young city.
Colonel Howell’s acquaintances were not confined to the Northwest—he also had friends in Winnipeg. After leaving the contractors’ offices, he went to the Dominion Telegraph Building and sent this message to a businessfriend in Winnipeg: “Please see the Canada Northern officials and tell them that I am stranded in Edmonton with a party of friends and would like to get to Athabasca Landing.”
In two hours, he was called up at the hotel by the general superintendent of that road, located in Edmonton, who said he had just been ordered by the Winnipeg officials to extend every facility to Colonel Howell and his friends in their advance to Athabasca Landing.
“We’re running a mixed train to a little village twenty-five miles out from Edmonton,” explained the superintendent, “and when it goes again, Wednesday morning, I’ll put an extra car on this train. Meet me that morning at eight thirty, at the depot, and I will escort you personally as far as this train goes. Then I’ll arrange to have your car attached to the construction train. There has never been a passenger car in Athabasca Landing. You can have the distinction of finishing your journey in the first passenger car to touch the great rivers of the Mackenzie Basin.”
Colonel Howell proceeded at once to the superintendent’s office, expressed his gratitude at the courtesy shown, and arranged that theother cars containing his outfit and the airship should be carried through at the same time.
When the members of the party returned to the hotel late in the afternoon, and received the news of the happy solution of their difficulty, congratulations rained on Colonel Howell. The boys had a new respect for the influence of the man with whom they were casting their fortunes and who had so little to say about himself.
The effect was a little bit different on the Count, who had rather persisted all day in a theory of his own that automobiles were the things to be used. He had canvassed liveries and accosted chauffeurs, but he had made no practical advance in securing help of this kind.
“Our own private car!” was one of Norman’s outbursts. “That’ll be great.”
“And the first one into the North!” added Roy. “That’s greater yet. And it gives us another day in Edmonton.”
“Which isn’t very great,” commented the Count. “I’ve seen all I want to of this place. It’s nothing but banks and restaurants. What’s Athabasca Landing like, Colonel Howell?” he added a little petulantly.
“Oh, the Landing’s nothing but saloons andthe river, and beyond it,” he added significantly, “there’s nothing but the river.”
At seven o’clock that evening, Mr. Zept and Colonel Howell with the three boys attended a baseball game, leaving it at nine thirty in full daylight.
“To-morrow is vacation,” explained Colonel Howell, as they separated for the night, “and Wednesday at eight thirty we’ll board our private car.”
CHAPTER VIIA TEMPESTUOUS VOYAGE TO ATHABASCA LANDING
During their stay in Edmonton, the two Indian rivermen had been living royally in a lodging house near the depot. Early on the morning of the departure, Colonel Howell rounded up his old employees and when the mixed freight and passenger train backed up to the depot, the party was ready to board it. It was with satisfaction that all saw two Chicago & North Western freight cars, which Colonel Howell identified as those containing his oil outfit, and next to the extra passenger coach, the special baggage car.
A mist was falling and it was not cheerful. It was time for Mr. Zept to take his leave. For some moments he and Colonel Howell spoke apart and then, without any special word of admonition to his son, he grasped the hand of each boy in turn.
“I hope you’ll all be friends,” was his general good-bye, “and that you’ll all stand by each other. Good-bye. Colonel Howell is myfriend and I advise all of you to do just as he tells you. Take care of yourselves,” and with no further words, the rich ranch owner helped the little party to load its baggage into the express car.
There were many curious people at the depot, among whom, not the least conspicuous, were Moosetooth and La Biche. Men from the frontier and a dapper young mounted policeman all came to speak to the two Indians.
With most of the passengers either hanging out of the car windows or jammed together on the platforms—for at the last moment, Colonel Howell had readily given his consent to the superintendent that he might also throw open the special car to the general public, as far at least as Morineville, the end of the passenger run—the creaking train crawled around a bend, and while the boys and Colonel Howell waved a farewell to Mr. Zept, the journey northward on the new road began.
The privacy of the special car at once disappeared. The unusual jam was due to the impassable condition of the stage trail. Into the special car there came not only hunters and traders, but many women and children who had prevailed upon the railway officials to help themforward on the last stage of their journey into the river land.
As the pitching train made its way slowly beyond the city limits, Norman, Roy and Paul also found themselves on the platform, ready for the first sight of a new country. They were looking for sterile plains. Instead, they found black land freely dotted with clumps of trees, with walls of wild flowers on each side of the track. Magnificent strawberries almost reddened the ground, while, by the fences, the ripening Saskatoon berry gave the first positive sign of the new vegetation of which they were to see so much.
For three hours the train crept forward, stopping now and then at little stations, and at last reached the considerable settlement of Morineville. Here, Colonel Howell expected to meet the construction train to which the special car was to be attached, and from this point they were to make the remainder of their journey of seventy-five miles to Athabasca Landing as the sole passengers of their car.
But bad news awaited the travelers. The construction train had not arrived but it was expected during the afternoon. The superintendent, taking leave of his guests, left ordersthat their car should be forwarded on the returning construction train and at noon he left on the passenger train for Edmonton. Colonel Howell’s car was switched onto a spur and then began a wait for news of the construction train.
An affable telegraph operator did what he could to appease the anxious travelers. By telephone he learned that the expected train had not yet made half the journey between Athabasca Landing and Morineville, and in that distance had been off the track four times. On the operator’s suggestion, the adventurers made their way to the village for dinner and then returned to their car and spent the afternoon in hearing from time to time that the construction train was off the track again.
“Promises well for a night ride!” suggested Roy.
“It doesn’t mean anything,” explained Colonel Howell. “They just slap down an iron frog and run on again. Don’t get scared about that.”
When time for supper arrived, the agent gave it as his judgment that the train couldn’t get in before midnight and, in that event, that it certainly would not go back until the next morning. Being assured by this employee thatin case his theory was not correct he would send them word, the party abandoned their car to have supper and sleep in a little French hotel.
The supper was bad and the beds were worse. Norman and Roy longed for their new blankets and the woods, and slept with difficulty. Some time, about the middle of the night, the two boys heard the strident shriek of a locomotive. They at once rushed to Colonel Howell’s room, eager to make their way back to the depot, but recalling the operator’s promise, the prospector persuaded them to go to bed again and when it was daylight they all awoke to find no train in sight. But the operator was waiting for them and ate breakfast with the party.
“She come in with a busted cylinder,” he exclaimed, “and they had to go to Edmonton to get ’er fixed. But she’ll be back this morning sometime and you’ll have a nice ride to the Landing.” Then he laughed. “That is, if you can pull a heavy passenger coach over them tracks.”
It was eleven o’clock when the old-fashioned engine reappeared but any motive power seemed good enough and when the little Irish conductor read his orders, he cheerfully busiedhimself in making the passenger car and the three other cars a part of his train. The spirit of discontent disappeared and once again the northbound expedition was on its way.
Until twelve o’clock that night, the indefatigable little Irishman pushed his heavy train, which included many cars of long-delayed freight, over the new tracks, which alternately seemed to float and sink into the soft sand and muskeg. Four times in that journey some one car of the train slid off the track and just as often the energetic crew pulled it back again. Once the accident was more serious. When the piling-up jarring told that another pair of wheels were in the muskeg and the train came to a crashing stop, it was found that the front axles of the car had jammed themselves so far rearward that the car was out of service. But again there was little delay. With two jack screws, the little Irishman lifted the car sideways and toppled it over. Coupling up the other cars, the train proceeded.
At six o’clock in the evening supper was found in the cook car of a construction camp. It did not grow dark until eleven o’clock, and by this time, Colonel Howell and his friends were beginning to get a little sleep curled upon the seats of their car. An hour later, having creakingly crossed a long trestle, the strange train, still bumping and rattling, made its way along the even newer and worse track which led into Athabasca Landing.
There were neither depot nor light to make cheer for the tired travelers. With the help of Moosetooth and La Biche and a few half-breeds, the considerable baggage of the party was dumped out onto the sand of the new roadway and then, all joining in the task, it was carried across the street to the new Alberta Hotel. For the first time the boys discovered that there was almost a chill of frost in the air; in the office of the hotel a fire was burning in a big stove and from the front door Colonel Howell pointed through the starlight to a bank of mist beyond the railroad track.
“There she is, boys,” he remarked.
“You mean the river?” exclaimed Roy.
“Our river now,” answered their elder. “There’s plenty of room here and good beds. Turn in and don’t lose any time in the morning. We’ve got nothing ahead of us now but work. And remember, too, you’re not in the land of condensed milk yet; you’ll have the best breakfast to-morrow morning you’re going to have for many a day.”
Moosetooth and old La Biche had already disappeared toward the misty riverbank.
Dawn came early the next morning and with almost the first sign of it Norman and Roy were awake. From their window they had their first sight of the Athabasca. A light fog still lay over the river and the three-hundred-foot abrupt hills on the far side. Had they been able to make out the tops of these hills, they would have seen a few poplar trees. A steep brown road that started from the end of a ferry and mounted zigzag into the fog, was the beginning of a trail that at once passed into a desolate wilderness. They were within sight of the endless untraveled land that reached, unbroken by civilization, to the far-distant Arctic.
Beneath the fog the wide river slipped southward, a waveless sheet moving silently as oil, and whose brown color was only touched here and there by floating timber and the spume of greasy eddies.
“Not very cheerful looking,” was Norman’s comment.
“No,” answered Roy, “she’s no purling trout-brook; she couldn’t be and be what she is—one of the biggest rivers in America.”
The boys dressed and hurried through thenew railroad yards to the muddy banks of a big river. The town of Athabasca Landing lay at their backs. The riverbank itself was as crude and unimproved as if the place had not been a commercial center for Indians and fur men for two hundred years.
To the left there was an exception, where, close on the riverbank, white palisades inclosed the little offices and warehouse of the Northern Transportation Company. Just beyond this, a higher and stronger palisade protected the riverbank from the winter ice jam. To the right and down the river a treeless bank extended, devoid of wharves and buildings. Opposite the main portion of the town, in this open space, a steamboat was approaching completion on crude ways. Near this there were a few ancient log cabins, used for generations by the Hudson’s Bay Company as workshops and storehouses.
Three blocks to the west and in the heart of the new city the old historic H. B. Company was then erecting a modern cement and pressed brick store, probably at the time the most northern expression of civilization’s thrift. Still farther to the south the river swerved in a bend to the east and lost itself beyond agiant sweep of hills. Not the least suggestive objects that came within the two boys’ hasty view were a few Hudson’s Bay flatboats, moored to the bank and half full of water to protect their tarred seams. In craft such as these, Norman and Roy, with their friends, were now about to venture forth on the river flowing swiftly by them, and not even the new steamboat was as attractive as these historic “sturgeon heads.”
Also, in the far distance, on the riverbank where it curved toward the east, the young adventurers could make out the thin smoke of camp fires where a few tents and bark shacks marked the settlement of the river Indians. Here they knew Moosetooth and La Biche had passed the night.
Colonel Howell’s prediction as to the breakfast was fully confirmed. After this, real activity began at once. Norman and Roy knew that they had reached the end of civilization, and had already abandoned city clothes. Both the boys appeared in Stetson hats, flannel shirts, belts, and half-length waterproof shoes.
Colonel Howell made no change other than to put on a blue flannel shirt. The young Count made a more portentous display. When herejoined the others after breakfast, he wore a soft light hat, the wide brim of which flapped most picturesquely. His boots were those of a Parisian equestrian, high-heeled like those of a cowboy, but of varnished black leather. His clothing was dark, and the belted coat fitted him trimly.
Colonel Howell left at once to give orders about the placing of his cars, and Norman and Roy were dispatched to the Indian camp to find Moosetooth and La Biche, who were to go a short distance up the river and bring the waiting flatboats down to a point opposite the freight cars. This duty appeared to interest young Zept and he cheerfully joined the other boys in their task.
Opposite the new steamboat they passed a larger and noisier hotel, in front of which were collected many curious people of the country, many of whom were lazy-looking, slovenly-garbed half-breeds.
Young Zept was full of animation, spoke jovially to any one who caught his eye and, although it was early in the day, suggested that his young friends stop with him in the bar room. But Norman and Roy’s whole interest was in the task before them and when theysaw the Count abruptly salute a red-jacketed mounted policeman who was standing in the door of the hotel, they hurried on without even the formality of declining Paul’s invitation.
By the time the old steersmen had been found, the Count was out of their minds. Although the riverbank was sticky with mud, there was an exhilarating crispness in the air and the river fog had now disappeared. Led by the two Indians, the boys made their way a half mile up the river. Here, on a high clean bank, stood the big red river warehouse of the H. B. Company. Among the willow bushes opposite it was a fleet of new “sturgeon heads,” and just below these, two boats that had been put aside for Colonel Howell.
From among the bushes near the warehouse the two Indians produced a pump and then for two hours took turns in drawing the water from the half submerged boats. Just before noon, Moosetooth taking his place in the stern of the rear boat with a small steering oar, La Biche loosened the craft and Norman and Roy were on their first voyage in the historic flatboat of the Athabasca.
It was curious to note the skill with which the veteran riverman allowed the current tocarry his boats on their way, and the ease with which they were finally drawn in to the bank opposite the freight cars.
Roy proposed to secure a shovel for cleaning out the mud, but old La Biche laughed.
“The sun,” he said, “he goin’ do dat.”
Near the landing, as the boys returned to the hotel, they discovered a thing they had not noticed in the morning. A grizzled “Baptiste,” as Norman liked to designate each Indian, was busy with a draw knife, a chisel and a maul, finishing steering oars. These enormous objects resembled telegraph poles, being of pine timber, slightly flattened at one end to resemble the blade of an oar, and at the other end cut down into long handles that the user might clasp with his two hands.
When the Indian had roughly trimmed these giant oars, with the help of an assistant, who in the meantime seemed to have no other duty except to puff his charred black pipe, the old “Baptiste” balanced the piece of timber on a rock. Carefully testing the spar, in order to get the exact point of equilibrium, the oar maker then made a rectangular hole through the six inches of timber. The two boys understood.
At the rear of each flatboat a steel pin extended seven or eight inches above the woodwork. When this pin was thrust through the hole in the oar, the great sweep hung almost balanced, and the steersman who used it to guide the unwieldy craft forced the blade of the oar back and forth against the current with the force of his body. The boys found it almost impossible to lift one of the oars.
“I can see now,” panted Roy, as he looked over the tree-like sweep, “where experience comes in.”
CHAPTER VIIICOUNT 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 ideathat 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 buyanything. 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 thesteersmen, 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 worecollarless 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 excitedFrenchman 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 andthen 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 boystook 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 Howelllearned 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 uniformedpoliceman 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.