Part 14 (1/2)

When the Indian had prepared a frame for dressing the skin and lashed the green hide with heavy cord between the four poplar sides and had produced a shaving knife from somewhere among his private possessions, the boys fought for the opportunity to work upon the hide.

For almost two days, Norman, Roy and Paul, by turns, sc.r.a.ped at the muscle, sinews and fat yet adhering to the skins until at last their first trophy shone as tight and clean in the suns.h.i.+ne as a drumhead.

Philip had also brought, from the upland, the animal's brains tied up in his s.h.i.+rt. In the tanning process he then took charge of the cleaned skin and buried it until the hair had rotted, and in this condition the outside of the skin was also cleaned. Then came a mysterious process of scouring the skin with the long preserved brains.

At Colonel Howell's suggestion, and with the complete approval of the boys, this part of the process was carried on at some distance from the cabin. Thereafter, when the weather was clear, Philip exposed the skin to the smoke of a smouldering fire, devoting such time as he had to rubbing and twisting the hide while it turned to a soft, odorous yellow.

Before the real winter began, the skin, which is the wealth of the Canadian Indian, began to make its appearance in strong moccasins, which were usually worn around the fireplace and often in bed.

From somewhere in the outfit a calendar had made its appearance, and this had found a lodging place in the front of the fireplace. The morning that Colonel Howell made a mark on September 1, with a bit of charred stick, he remarked:

”Well, boys, the postman seems to have forgotten us. What's the matter with running up to Athabasca and getting our mail? A piece of beef wouldn't go bad, either. How about it?”

So intense had the interest of Norman and Roy been in the hundreds of things to be done in camp that the aeroplane, although not out of mind, was not always foremost in their thoughts. No reply was needed to this suggestion. Instantly, the proposition filled the air with airs.h.i.+p talk.

This first trip had been discussed many times. It required no particular planning now.

”I like to travel about fifty miles an hour,” exclaimed Norman, ”and it's three hundred miles to the Landing. We'll leave to-morrow morning at five o'clock and land on the heights opposite the town at eleven. One of us'll go across in the ferry--”

”Both of us,” broke in Roy. ”There's no need to watch the machine--everybody's honest in this country.”

”Let me go and watch it?” asked Paul, who was now the constant a.s.sociate of the other boys in their work and pleasures.

”Not this time,” answered Norman. ”It isn't exactly a bus, you know. We can take care of it all right.”

”Then we'll have dinner at the good old Alberta,” suggested Roy with his features aglow, ”do our errands, and start back about three o'clock. It's a cinch. With the river for our guide, we ought to give you a beefsteak about nine o'clock.”

”And don't forget a few magazines,” put in Paul.

This flight, which began promptly on time the next morning, after an early breakfast of toasted bannock, bacon and the inevitable tea, which Philip never spoiled with smoke, however, was made with all the ease of the exhibitions at the Stampede.

The _Gitchie Manitou_ was wheeled out of the hangar for a thorough inspection. Then the boys climbed in and the engines were started. With a wave of the hand they were off.

For a short time after the yellow-winged monoplane had mounted and turned south and westward over the vapory river, the boys had a new sensation.

The rising fog started air currents which for a time they did not understand. Perhaps Norman's hand was a little out of a practice and at times Roy showed nervousness.

When Norman finally guessed the cause, he mounted higher and took a course over the uplands where, as the suns.h.i.+ne cleared the atmosphere, the _Gitchie Manitou_ became more easily manageable. The line of vapor rising from the river some distance on their left was sufficient guide.

This at last disappeared in turn and Norman threw the car back on its old course.

Once again above the river, whose brown, oily surface now shone clearly beneath them, Roy especially busied himself with the many attractions of the stream. Animal life was plentiful and, despite Norman's renewed protests, his companion insisted now and then in fruitlessly discharging his rifle at small game.

They made better time than fifty miles and made a safe landing on the heights opposite Athabasca some time before eleven o'clock. What had seemed to them, from Athabasca, to be an uninhabited bluff, was now found to contain several poor cabins. Afraid to leave the car alone near those who would certainly be curious, Norman decided to stay with the monoplane and Roy undertook to visit the town across the river. But dinner at the Alberta was eliminated and Roy, in addition to his mail and meat and magazines, was to bring back luncheon for both the aviators.

Norman accompanied him to the brow of the hill and saw him scramble down the winding road to the ferry landing below. Here, also, he saw him wait nearly a half hour before the c.u.mbersome gravity flatboat put out from the other sh.o.r.e, and then he devoted himself to picking and eating Saskatoon berries, with which the hills were covered.

It was two o'clock when Roy returned, burdened with packages. For an hour Norman had been asleep in the invigorating hill air. Roy had certainly gone the limit in the matter of meat. He had two roasts and six thick steaks and, what was more to his own taste, he proudly displayed a leg of lamb. His mail, of which there seemed to be a great deal for everyone, he had tied in one end of a flour sack. In the other end he had six loaves of fresh bread. On his back in another bag he had a weight of magazines.

”I thought we'd take what we could,” he began, ”and I guess it's a good thing we came when we did. Somebody's been pounding telegrams in here for several days for Colonel Howell. I got a half dozen of 'em and I sent all he gave me. I got off some messages to the folks, too, but I wonder what the colonel's so busy about.”