Part 22 (1/2)

”Here,” he said to the Indian, ”you can watch this while it cooks.”

With a smile the Indian took the handle of the pan, shook it deftly a few times, lifted the edge of the dough with skilled fingers and then settled the pan upon a bed of coals just outside the heart of the fire and, squatted by its side, carefully watched the baking. Meanwhile, Norman and Paul were crunching bacon sc.r.a.ps while Roy was mopping his perspiring brow with the sleeve of his sweater.

”If that's all we're going to have,” broke in Norman, ”I want to go home.”

But that was all they did have. The conscientious Roy, who had given the subject much consideration, had carefully refrained from bringing any luxuries other than tea and a little sugar. But by the time the bannock was done--and the Indian knew how to cook it--the three boys had become so hungry that the Indian bread was eaten ravenously. Then the party crept into their sleeping bags at an early hour and pa.s.sed the night without discomfort.

Philip took charge of the camp in the morning and before the boys crept out of their bags he served each of them with a cup of hot tea. When the boys looked outside of their snow tent it seemed hardly dawn and yet it was after eight o'clock. Philip shook his head and announced prospects of bad weather. There was no sun and, although it was no colder than it had been the day before, there was a gloom over all that suggested a storm.

Not one of the boys would have suggested it but the Indian did not hesitate to warn them that they should return to the camp at once.

”I don't know how I would vote on this question,” said Norman, ”if we'd had proper provisions. But I don't propose to live three more days on the _ghost_ of salt pork. And, besides, we've got plenty of moose meat in camp. I'm not so keen about going to the Barren Lands as I was.”

This was why late that afternoon Colonel Howell was both surprised and glad to see his young friends trot into camp.

CHAPTER XVII

THE _Gitchie Manitou_ WINS A RACE

Norman and Roy soon became restless and after a few days' idleness asked Colonel Howell for permission to make their delayed visit to the Pointe aux Tremble Indian camp. The day set for this second relief expedition promised a continuation of clear dry weather. Almost duplicating their last provisions, the monoplane got away at dawn. At the last moment, Paul was subst.i.tuted for Roy, and he and Norman made an uneventful flight directly up the river. This time a landing was made at the foot of the bluff on the smooth ice of the river. The provisions were distributed and then the two boys visited the cabin of the paralytic Indian.

”Chandler probably will be out running his trap line,” suggested Norman, ”but he may be at home.”

Within the cabin they found only the Indian. To Norman's surprise, the rusty traps still hung on the wall, with no sign of having been touched since he and Roy visited the cabin. Norman's observing eye at once examined the other parts of the room.

In the bunk corner there was absolutely no change. He would have sworn that Chandler had not slept in the place since he returned. A sudden suspicion coming into Norman's mind, he walked to the bunk corner of the room and pointed to the crevice from which they had taken the letter. The Indian grinned. Then Norman pointed to the curing boards, made motions with his hands to indicate a man of about Chandler's build and other pantomimes of inquiry. The Indian responded with his usual grin, then shook his head. Norman's jaw dropped.

”Paul,” he exclaimed, ”we're a lot of chumps. Chandler never came back to this camp. He hired the best dog team in this part of the world and while we were all asleep he's been hurrying to Edmonton. He's had seven days'

start, and the way these dogs travel, he'll cover that distance in jig time. Come on,” he almost shouted, ”we've got something to do now besides feeding lazy Indians. The hunters are back, anyway, and there won't be any starving around here. We've got to get back to Colonel Howell as fast as the airs.h.i.+p'll go.”

Philip's supper was awaiting the return of the _Gitchie Manitou_, but its serving was long delayed. For an hour the conference that took place immediately upon the safe housing of the monoplane continued while each partic.i.p.ant contributed his views. The conclusion was inevitable. Colonel Howell must proceed to Edmonton at once. There was a discussion as to whether this perilous flight should be made to Athabasca Landing, where Colonel Howell would have to make the last hundred miles of journey by train, or whether the trip through the Arctic skies should be made by compa.s.s directly to Edmonton.

Finally it was decided, in view of the comprehensive charts that they had of the intervening country, that the latter should be the program, even if it were necessary to make a landing on the way.

”The trains from Athabasca Landing,” concluded Colonel Howell at last, ”run only three times a week, and I'm not sure of the schedule.”

”Then,” announced Norman, ”we'll do it by _Air Line_. We can make it, if you want to trust me.”

”I think it's worth while,” laughed the colonel.

”You haven't much time,” broke in the excited Roy. ”They've had good hard snow, and this half-breed's got a great team, I understand. If they made forty miles a day, and I've heard o' them doing that, you'll have to get a hustle on you.”

”We leave to-night,” announced Norman, springing to his feet. ”Philip!”

he called.

Colonel Howell, with a disturbed look on his face, interrupted: