On the Edge of the Arctic; Or, An Aeroplane in Snowland

  ON THE EDGE OF THE ARCTIC

  or

  An Aeroplane in Snowland

  by

  ASHTON LAMAR

  Illustrated by Norman P. Hall

  The _Gitchie Manitou_ ready for its first flight in theFar North.]

  The Reilly & Britton Co.Chicago

  Copyright, 1913byThe Reilly & Britton Co.All Rights Reserved

  ON THE EDGE OF THE ARCTIC

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER PAGE

  I Introducing An Airship And Count Zept 9

  II A Curious Stranger Learns the Object of the _Gitchie Manitou_ 27

  III Colonel Howell Makes a Novel Proposal 42

  IV Colonel Howell Discovers an Old Friend in Jack Zept 58

  V Negotiating and Outfitting 72

  VI The Expedition Strikes a Snag in Edmonton 86

  VII A Tempestuous Voyage to Athabasca Landing 100

  VIII Count Zept Makes Himself Known at the Landing 114

  IX The Song of the Voyageur 128

  X Paul Awakens to the Situation 142

  XI Preparing Camp for Winter 155

  XII Breasting a Blizzard in an Airship 169

  XIII In the Land of Caribou, Moose and Musk Ox 187

  XIV In the Cabin of the Paralyzed Indian 201

  XV A Letter Goes Wrong 217

  XVI Roy Conducts a Hunt 232

  XVII The _Gitchie Manitou_ Wins a Race 248

  ILLUSTRATIONS

  PAGE

  The _Gitchie Manitou_ ready for its first flight in the Far North. Frontispiece

  "I've an idea and I got it the minute I saw your aeroplane to-day." 51

  "Don't shoot," he protested. "What's the use?" 181

  "They must have seen us," panted Roy as he and Norman advanced. 205

  ON THE EDGE OF THE ARCTICORAN AEROPLANE IN SNOWLAND

  CHAPTER I

  INTRODUCING AN AIRSHIP AND COUNT ZEPT

  This story, which is an account of the peculiar and marvelous adventuresby which two Canadian boys--Norman Grant and Roy Moulton--achieved asudden fame in the Arctic wilderness of the great Northwest, had itsbeginning in the thriving city of Calgary. The exact time was the big dayof the celebrated "Stampede," Calgary's famous civic celebration. It wasin July and among the many events that had drawn thousands of people tothe new Northwestern metropolis, Norman and Roy were on the program asaviators and exhibitors of their new aeroplane.

  These young men were born in Calgary and had lived eighteen years in thatcity. Since this almost covered the period of Calgary's growth from atrading post to a modern city, each young man had a knowledge of thewilderness and its romance that other boys could get only from history.This meant that they knew plainsmen, scouts, ranchmen, cowboys, hunters,trappers, and even Indians as personal friends. It meant also that theyhad a real knowledge of the prairies, the woods and even of themountains. Their knowledge of these men and the land in which they livedwas personal and did not come from the fanciful narratives of books ofadventure.

  Each boy was the son of a mechanic, men who had come into the Province ofAlberta with the first railroads. And each boy was educated in all that agrammar school affords. The picturesque romance of the Northwest havingbeen a part of the life of each, it might have been supposed that theambitions of the two lads would have run toward mining or ranch life oreven toward the inviting work of hunters or trappers.

  To the gratification of their fathers, however, they fell in with themodern movement and turned toward mechanics. When the furore foraeronautics reached even far-away Calgary, the boys found themselvespassionately absorbed in all airship discoveries. Mr. Grant's position asa division mechanic of a great trunk railroad, and Mr. Moulton's"Electrical Supply Factory," gave the boys their starting point. Later,in Mr. Moulton's factory, an outbuilding was appropriated and in thisplace, with the approval and assistance of their fathers, the two boysfinally completed an airship. This was but a spur to a renewed effort,and within a year, the boys attending school meanwhile, they finishedtheir improved aeroplane. It was named the "_Gitchie Manitou_" or "Spiritof the Wind"--words taken from the Cree Indians.

  The original ideas that resulted in this ingenious contrivance camemainly from the boys themselves. Yet they neglected no suggestions thatthey could find in the latest aeronautical journals. This wonderfulmachine was only locally known, but when the citizens of Calgary plannedtheir local celebration, known as the "Stampede," there was knowledgeamong the promoters, of the just completed "_Gitchie Manitou_." It wasfitting that this modern invention should be shown in contrast with allthat was being collected to exhibit the past, so an arrangement was madewith the young aviators to give a daily flight in the new airship.

  "It really isn't made for work of this kind," argued Norman to hiscompanion when the suggestion was made to them, "but if it'll work in thewinter in the wind and snow, as we've planned, I reckon we ought to beable to put it over in the park."

  "Oh, it'll work all right," responded Roy. "But what if it does? I neverquite figured out that we were to turn ourselves into showmen."

  "Listen!" interrupted Grant at once. "You've got to show your goodsfirst. It's just the place where we may meet people who will understandwhat it's good for."

  "And even then what are we going to do?" asked Roy. "Sell it to some mailor stage contractor? To some one who works in the blizzard?"

  The other boy shook his head: "I don't know," he answered slowly, "butit's certainly going to come in handy for some one. I don't know of anyother machine that you can run in a snowstorm or that would be any goodup here in the wilderness when the bad weather comes on. They're notgoing to pay us much for risking our necks, but I'm in favor of making acontract, just to see if some one doesn't come along who'll understandit."

  "Then," suggested Roy with a smile, "I suppose all that'll be left for usto do will be to sell it and go to work on another one."

  "Oh, I don't know," answered young Grant slowly, "there aren't manyaviators 'round here!"

  "What do you mean?"

  "We might get a job running it."

  The other boy's eyes sparkled. "That settles it," he announced. "Let'ssign up and do the best we can."

  Calgary is to-day the little Chicago of the great Northwest. In the heartof it one may find the last of the old-time frontier life, while aroundand over this is all that makes a modern city. At this time the civicpride of the city had prompted its citizens to prepare an exhibit typicalof that part of the country which, throughout Canada and the States, wasalso described in placards and vivid pictures as the "Stampede."

  The main reason for this was that in the pushing westward of therefinements of civilization it was perhaps the last thing of its kindthat could be celebrated on such a scale on this continent. The modernProvincial Fairground, lying well within the city limits of Calgary, wasselected as the site of the performance. Here, when the "Stampede"finally took place,
thousands of people made their way from the WesternStates and northwestern Canada. There were among them many theatricalproducers, moving picture operators, and others especially interested insuch a unique exhibit, from the far East. All could foresee possibilitiesthat might never again be presented.

  It would bring together the last of the plainsmen, scouts, trappers, andmany others who had been engaged in the conquest of the wilderness. Thismeant a strange mixture of the men who had made possible the romance ofboth western America and the wide Canadian Northwest. There were to befull-blood Indians, half-breeds, and that curious mixture of foreignerswho had made their way through the fur-bearing North by way of frozenHudson's Bay. The men would be there who had traveled through pathlesswoods, who had found and named rivers and who had scaled unknown mountainpeaks--many of them in the leather coats and moccasins of old days.

  Where it was possible, these survivors of a period now gone were to bringwith them the weapons of the frontier and the implements of camp life.There were to be stage coaches and freight wagons of the prairies, relicsof the trail and the paraphernalia of the frontier.

  The program of the Stampede included the exhibition of these people andtheir old-time life as well as it could be reproduced. Horses noted fortheir viciousness, Mexican bulls especially selected for theirsavageness, and the untamed range cayuse, were to exhibit the prowess ofthe horsemen. With these, the Indians and their families were to copy thelife of the woods in the tepee and the movements on the trail.

  Having concluded a contract to become participants in this unique affair,Norman Grant and Roy Moulton developed an interest in it that they didnot know they possessed. To them most of it was an old story. But, havingsuperintended the erection of an aerodrome on the edge of the open fieldinside the race track, they were surprised at the interest they began totake in the many curious people who soon began to arrive and installthemselves in tents and cabins.

  The exhibition was to last one week. On Monday morning of Stampede week,while the two boys were engaged in installing the aeroplane, Roy suddenlydisappeared. He was gone over a half hour and when he returned, flushedwith some new enthusiasm, he found his chum Norman much disgruntled. Themachine had been set up before Roy left and he had stolen away whileNorman was working with the engine.

  "Everything all right?" asked Roy a little guiltily as he observed hiscompanion seated on a box, a half scowl on his face.

  "I guess so," answered Grant without a smile. "At least, I did all Icould, _alone_."

  "I didn't think there was much to do," exclaimed Roy apologetically. "Ihad something I wanted to do--I'd have asked you to go, but I didn'tthink you'd care. I've been to see those La Biche rivermen."

  "Where's La Biche, and what rivermen?"

  "Oh, you know, Lac la Biche, way up country, where the rivermen comefrom."

  "I don't know anything about 'em--you mean 'scow men'?"

  "Of course," answered Roy, taking off his coat. "I wanted to see 'em andI knew they got in last night. I've met all kind of Indians, but theseold boatmen don't get down this way very often."

  "Why'd you think I didn't care?" asked the other boy. "If you mean a realold batteau steersman, I never saw one either. I reckon I'd have gone afew hundred yards to see one of 'em if he's the real goods. Since thesteamboats came in, I thought they'd all played out. Are these fellowshalf-breeds or full-bloods?"

  "Don't make any mistake about 'em!" responded Roy eagerly. "I've seen allkinds of Indians but these are some I never did see. They're all right,too. If there's anything about a canoe or a flatboat that they don'tknow, I guess nobody can tell it to 'em."

  "They'll have a fine time doing any paddling or steering around here inthis race track," suggested Norman gruffly. "How are they goin' to show'em off? But what do they look like?"

  "They're not wearing Indian togs much," explained Roy, taking a seat byhis friend, "and I've never seen real old full-blood Indian rivermen, butI know these fellows look like 'em. But I'd change their names if I wasgoing to put 'em on the program."

  "Don't sound Indian enough?" suggested Norman. "Full-bloods never do seemto have real Indian names. Seems like all the loafin' half-breeds takethe best names."

  "Anyway," went on Roy, "these men are John Martin, or old 'Moosetooth,'and William La Biche."

  "Moosetooth and La Biche are all right," commented Norman. "Do they wearshoes?"

  "No," explained Roy, "they're in moccasins--plain mooseskin wrappedaround the ankles. You'd know 'em by that. And they both carry the Creetobacco pouch, with the long tassels hanging out of their hip pocket--sothey can find the pouch in the dark, I suppose."

  "And black Stetson hats?" added Norman, "with big silver buttons allaround the leather band?"

  "Sure!" answered the other boy. "But you ought to see their arms. Neitherone of 'em is big, but if you saw their arms you'd know how they swingthose twenty-foot steering oars. I got a hankerin' after those fellows.Any man who can stand in the stern of an old Hudson Bay Company 'sturgeonhead' and steer it through fifteen hundred miles o' rivers and lakes,clear down to the Arctic Ocean, and then walk back if necessary, has gotit all over the kind of Indians I know."

  Norman looked at him a few moments and then got up and motioned him outof the aerodrome. He swung the big doors together, locked them, and thenexclaimed:

  "I don't care to get excited over every old greasy Indian that comesalong but lead me to old Moosetooth."

  Roy, who was well pleased over so easily placating his chum, at once ledthe way around the race track and through the fringe of tepees, tents andother shelters being erected for the housing of the fast gatheringarrivals. At last he stood before a group of mooseskin tepees in whichwere gathered several families of Cree Indians. These people had beenbrought from the present famous Indian encampment on the shores of Lac laBiche, just south of Athabasca River, where it turns on its longnorthward journey to the Arctic Ocean.

  It is the men of this region who are sought by the great fur companies,by adventurers and sportsmen and by all those traffickers who use thegreat riverway to the north. And it is from them that the skilled canoemen and the experienced flatboat steersmen are selected for the conductof the precious flotillas on these northern waters.

  From Lac la Biche the veterans are called each year when the ice is goneout of the Athabasca, to take charge of the great Hudson's Bay Company'sfleet of batteaux whose descent of the river means life to those who passtheir winters in the far north. These things both boys knew, and hencetheir interest in Moosetooth Martin and old man La Biche.

  "Here they are!" announced young Moulton as, without hesitation, he madehis way through the litter of the little camp where the women werealready cooking the inevitable bannock.

  Norman greeted each man and welcomed them to the camp. The Indians werebeyond middle age and the dark face of each was seamed with wrinkles.Nothing in Moosetooth's yellow regular teeth warranted his name, however.This might better have been applied to La Biche, whose several missingteeth emphasized his few remaining ones.

  The two men and others were squatted near the fire, each smoking a shortblack pipe. Some spoke English but there was little conversation. Theboys turned to examine a couple of rare birch-bark canoes and the campitself, but almost at once they were distracted by the appearance of anew spectator in the group already surrounding the camp.

  This was a young man, not much beyond the two boys in age but older inexpression. He had a foreign look, and wore a small moustache. Normaninstantly noted that his face showed mild traces of dissipation. Thestranger was tall and although slight in build seemed full of energy andsomewhat sinewy in body. His clothes were distinctive and of a foreigncut. He wore smart riding gloves, a carelessly arranged but expensivenecktie in which was stuck a diamond studded horseshoe. He was smoking acigarette.

  "Hello," he said to Norman. "Pretty classy boats these, eh?"

  "Yes," responded the boy, "and pretty rare too. You don't see many ofthese around any more."

  "I t
hought all the Indians used birch-bark boats in the North," commentedthe young man.

  "No more!" explained Roy. "They ship cedar boats up to Herschel Islandnow. I haven't seen one of these bark boats for years. But these are thereal stuff!"

  "Do you live here?" asked the young man, drawing on his cigarette.

  "Both of us have lived here all our lives," answered Roy, looking theunusual young man over carefully.

  "Well, I'm a stranger," resumed the young man, proffering his cigarettecase, which appeared to be of gold and bore a crest on it. When the boysdeclined he went on: "I'm going to live here now, however. I've just comefrom Paris. I'm Mr. Zept's son. You know him?"

  The two boys straightened. Mr. Zept was one of the richest and mostactive citizens of Calgary. He was even ranked as a millionaire, havingmade his money with the other big horse ranchmen in that part of theworld. He was a close friend of Norman's father and had been especiallyactive in organizing the Stampede.

  "Oh, of course!" exclaimed Norman. "Everyone knows Mr. Zept. He's the bigman in this show. I'm glad to know you. I am Norman Grant and my friendhere is Roy Moulton."

  "Oh, you're the fellows who are going to give the airship show,"responded the young man with a marked interest. "I am glad to meet you.I'm Paul Zept. I'm just through school--in Paris. I've been living withmy grandfather. Now I'm going to live here. My father wants me to go onone of his ranches. I like horses but I don't think I like ranches."

  "Your father has some fine ones," suggested Roy.

  "Yes, I know," answered the young man, "but I want to get out on thefrontier. I thought this was the frontier." He smiled as he turned towave his hand toward the skyscrapers and factory chimneys and suburbanhomes near by on the hills. "But this doesn't look much like it. I wantto get out in the wilds--and that's where I'm going."

  "Do you know what that means?" asked Norman with a smile in turn. "Do youknow about the spoiled pork and bannock and mosquitoes?"

  "I suppose you mean the rough part," answered the young man. "I've neverhad much of that but I want to try it. I want to get beyond civilization.I want to get where I can see things I can't read about. I'm tired ofParis and school and I want to see the real wilderness."

  "It's gone!" interrupted Roy again with a laugh.

  "All gone?" asked the young man with a peculiar look.

  "Nearly all," exclaimed Norman; "unless you go a great ways from here.Unless," he continued, his smile broadening into a grin, "you can arrangeto go home with Moosetooth here or La Biche."

  "Well," responded the young man as he lit a new cigarette, "if that'strue I think I'm going with them."

  His tone was so positive and so conclusive that neither Norman nor Roymade any immediate comment. Moved by politeness they asked the young manif he would care to have a look at the airship. While Norman explainedsomething about himself and his companion the three young men made theirway back to the aerodrome. Before they reached it he had related theirown small adventures.

  Then young Zept had made them further acquainted with himself. Like hisfather he had been born in Austria and later had been sent to school inParis. There, as Norman and Roy could see, he had received a more thanordinary education, part of which, as the boys afterwards learned, wasdevoted to music. They also learned later that although not a greatsinger he had a pleasing tenor voice.

  Paul told them himself that he had devoted a great deal of time tohorsemanship. This, he explained, was doubtless due to the fact that hisfather had always engaged in the raising and selling of horses. The youngman also explained to the boys that he had not only received the ordinaryriding lessons but that he had also been trained under Austrian andItalian military riding masters. His interest in the coming "Stampede"was due largely to the exhibit of horsemanship that he expected to see.

  "I can't see why you wouldn't like life on a horse ranch," commented Royat last.

  "No matter!" responded the young man. "I do like horses and I know it'sgoing to be a jolly row with the governor but I've always had my own wayand I don't think he'll stop me now. I think I'm going into thewilderness--even if I have to go alone. I've been riding horses all mylife. Now I want to do something. The governor wants me to go in formaking money. I want to _discover_ something."

  Again the two boys looked at each other without knowing just what to say.Their new acquaintance was certainly affable enough, but his educationand his foreign bearing put him somewhat above the young men and theyfelt a certain reticence in his presence. Finally, as Norman unlocked thedoor of the aerodrome, it occurred to him to say:

  "This wilderness idea is pretty fine at long range or in books, but itseems to be like some other things. If you've got the real hankering forit, rotten food and all the mosquitoes in the world won't keep you fromit."

  "You don't know it," broke in the young Austrian instantly, "but if we'regoing to live in the same town I might as well tell you that a lot ofpeople call me 'Count Zept.' Of course I'm not a 'Count' and I don't knowwhy they gave me the title, unless it's because I've never been good formuch. Now I'm going to get rid of that handle to my name by showing myfolks and others that I can do something besides ride horses. I'm goinghome with old Moosetooth and La Biche and stay there long enough toforget there's a place like Paris."