Part 5 (1/2)

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. Colonel Howell 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 airs.h.i.+p 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 airs.h.i.+p, 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 wandering around 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 to Colonel 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 cus.h.i.+ons, 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 p.r.o.nounced 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.”