Part 18 (1/2)

No sooner had the monoplane begun to disappear over the northern hills than the impatient Paul demanded the attention of Colonel Howell.

”Colonel,” he began, ”I'm almost ashamed to even make the suggestion, but I've been watching the men at work on the gusher. They don't seem able to get a plug into the pipe or to put a cap on the end of it, even with the rigging they've managed to set up.”

”We seem to be at the end of our string,” laughed Colonel Howell. ”But laymen frequently make suggestions that never occur to professionals.

Have you an idea?”

”Not much of a one,” answered Paul diffidently, ”but I learned one thing in school--I think it was in what you call 'Physics.'”

”Speak out,” laughed Colonel Howell. ”We've utilized all our own ideas; that is, all but one, and I don't like that. I suppose we can dig a pit around the pipe and smother the blaze. But that's goin' to be quite a job, and I'm not sure it would work.”

”A pit!” exclaimed Paul. ”Now I've got it. They used to tell me, when you strike a force you can't handle, try to break it up into parts.”

Colonel Howell looked up quickly.

”We don't need a pit,” went on Paul, ”but something like a trench. Let's dig down alongside the pipe until we're ten or fifteen feet beneath the ground and then tap the tube and let some of the gas out where it won't do any harm. If we can't drill a hole, we can rig up a long-handled chisel and punch an opening. When the gas rushes out, down there in the trench, maybe it won't catch fire for a few minutes and it's sure to shut off a good deal of the pressure at the mouth of the tube. If it does, maybe we can get the cap and the regulator on the top. Then we can plug the opening below. It'll leak, of course, but the regulator'll fix things so we can use the gas at least.”

Colonel Howell thought a moment and then slapped the young man on the back. Without a word, he hurried to the two workmen and in a few moments Ewen and Miller had begun digging into the frozen ground. Colonel Howell's orders were for them to make a trench about four feet wide and extending toward the river about twenty feet. It was to be twenty feet deep alongside the pipe and in the form of a triangle, the long side to incline toward the river. This was to facilitate the removal of the gravel and dirt and to afford a path to the deep side of the trench where it touched the gas tubing.

”Five feet from the bottom,” explained the enthusiastic Paul, ”we'll put a shelf across the trench and we'll work from this, so that when a hole is made in the pipe no one will be in danger from the rush of gas.”

”That's right,” added Colonel Howell. ”All the gas can't get out through the new opening, but enough of it ought to escape to make it possible to work on the top opening. But we'll hardly finish the ditch before the boys get back?”

”Hardly,” smiled the happy Paul. ”They ought to be here before dark.”

While Ewen and Miller were busy with picks and shovels, Colonel Howell and Paul devoted themselves to improvising the long wooden handle for the chisel to be used in cutting the pipe. But the workmen had not finished the trench when night came and, to the surprise of Colonel Howell and Paul, the _Gitchie Manitou_ had not returned. This fact especially disturbed Colonel Howell and Paul because soon after noon the bright day had ended and the afternoon had pa.s.sed with lowering clouds and other evidences, including a decided drop in the temperature, that a bad night was approaching.

The northward flight of the aviators had been made without any premonition of this change. After the monoplane had reached the high ground, Norman could not resist a temptation to make his way some miles back from the river, where the boys could see that the spa.r.s.e timber grew very much thinner and that within five miles of the river the timberland disappeared altogether in a wide prairie or plain. Still farther to the east, they could make out irregular elevations on the plain, which appeared to be treeless ridges.

”I wish we had time to go over there,” remarked Roy, ”for we may never get back this way and I'd like to have had one good look at the caribou lands.”

But the general nature of this treeless, barren waste had been ascertained and Norman brought the swift car back on its flight toward the river. Colonel Howell had explained to them that the Indian village they were seeking was one hundred miles from the gas camp. As it was not certain that Pointe aux Tremble could be easily made out from a distance, it was necessary to keep careful watch of the chronometer and the propeller revolution gauge.

The flight over the picturesque banks of the great river was now getting to be an old story to the boys and protected as they were in the inclosed c.o.c.kpit, the journey proceeded with only occasional comment. They had left the camp at nine twenty-five o'clock, having set the engines at fifty miles, and, allowing for their detour, at a quarter after eleven o'clock Roy arose and began to use his binoculars. But either the reputed distance or the boys' calculations were wrong, for it was not until a quarter of twelve o'clock that they caught sight of a few cabins scattered along the riverbank within a fringe of poplar trees.

It was necessary to find a suitable landing place and both aviators busied themselves in this respect with no great result. What clearing there was seemed to be full of tree stumps and large brush. The car, having pa.s.sed over the few cabins of what seemed to be a deserted village, with no living thing in sight, it was necessary to make a turn to look for a landing place in the vicinity. In doing this, Norman made a wide swing.

The only naturally open place was some distance to the east. Without consulting Roy, he made for this white glare of snow. As the monoplane dropped toward the wide opening, Roy made a desperate dive toward the floor of the c.o.c.kpit and, before Norman learned the situation, his chum was pulling its new mooseskin jacket from the .303 rifle.

”It's a moose!” shouted Roy, ”and a dandy. Gi' me a shot at it. I've got to shoot something from the machine.”

”I thought there wasn't any game around here,” answered Norman, trying in vain to get his eyes above the c.o.c.kpit.

”I guess the hunters have all gone too far,” answered Roy breathlessly.

”Anyway, there's a dandy bull right out there in the open. Give me a shot at it.”

As he spoke, he dropped one of the front sections and pointed to one side of the basin-like opening among the spruce trees. The moment Norman caught sight of the animal, which stood with its forefeet together, its head erect, and its immense spread of antlers reared almost defiantly, he brought the machine directly toward the animal. There was a heavy discharge from Roy's rifle, but no sign that his shot had gone home.

”Try him again,” laughed Norman. ”He's big as a barn.”

But while Roy pumped a new sh.e.l.l into place, the erect animal suddenly stumbled and then with a snort whirled and sprang toward the trees. This time when the rifle sounded the great antlers seemed to rise higher and then the moose lunged forward on its head and began kicking in the snow.