Riddle of the Storm

by Roy J. Snell

  CHAPTER XXVI WALLS OF LIGHT

  The hunchback bowman stood tapping upon the airplane cabin in whichJohnny Thompson had been made prisoner. How had he traveled over allthose weary miles? How had he known the way? Had the airplane left a pathacross the sky for his eyes?

  Who will answer? For that matter, who will answer a hundred questionsthat might well be asked concerning the strange natives of the North? Howdo they follow trails that are wind-blown, no trails at all, over milesof darkness and storm? How do they in the midst of fog, without sun, moonor stars to guide them, steer frail craft over dark waters to land onunlighted shores before their wigwam doors? How can they know whathappens a hundred miles away at the very hour at which it happens? To allthese questions there is no answer. Ask them. They will reply, "We cannottell." Do they speak the truth? Who can say?

  The bowman was here. How? What matter this? He was here. He was Johnny'sundying friend. Once he had saved the boy's life. His hand it had beenthat, with so much skill, had fashioned the bow taken by him from thesnow hours before. The lost bow, the overturned sled had spoken to him.They had said, "Your friend, Johnny Thompson, is in distress."

  He had replied, "I will go to his aid." Now he tapped upon the glass andbeckoned.

  For answer, Johnny threw back his robe, disclosing the stout steelmanacles on his ankles.

  The hunchback's reaction was startling. Wrenching open the door with hispowerful hands, he prepared to drag Johnny from the cabin to his sled.

  With a sigh Johnny told him that the other boy must go too. The Indianunderstood. Swiftly, silently he lifted the second boy and carried him tothe sled. Then, dragging forth Johnny's robe, he wrapped it about them.

  At a barely audible call from Johnny, the five dogs came bounding fromthe cabin. Then they were away.

  The Indian made no effort to hitch Johnny's dogs to the sled. There wasno need. His own tireless team was still fit for the trail. In the Northboth dogs and men are accustomed to long hours of rest and long days oftoil.

  So, with no sound coming from the darkened cabin where, relying on theirfalse security, the mysterious ones slept on, the sled glided away intothe night.

  For an hour they followed the shore of the lake. Then turning sharply tothe left, they climbed a steep hill to go gliding along a ridge. Mileafter mile of glistening white had passed beneath their runners when atlast they went tobogganing down a steep incline to tumble all in a heapat the bottom. And that bottom was the frozen surface of still anotherlake.

  Fifteen minutes more and, just as dawn was breaking, they foundthemselves facing a brown wall of rock. In the center of this wall was anarrow opening. Into this opening they were invited to crawl.

  "D--do you think it's safe t--to go in there?" D'Arcy Arden looked up atJohnny. With their feet still bound together, they were obliged to crawlon hands and knees.

  "Safest thing in the world." Johnny prepared to lead the way. "I have onerule for every land; do as the natives do. If a native says a thing issafe, you may be sure it is.

  "Besides," he added as he crept forward, "this man is an old friend ofmine. Think of the miles he traveled to save me!"

  For all his confidence in his guide, Johnny was a little surprised at theplace he entered. Not so much a cave as a passageway among a tumbled massof jagged rocks, it led right, left, up, down until he was fairly dizzy.But at last they came into a rather large, low chamber.

  To his surprise, Johnny found that in this chamber he could see plainlyenough to find his way about. He was, however, too much worn down byexcitement and lack of sleep to note this with any degree of interest orto ask questions about it. Having been assured by signs from his strangehost that they were now quite safe and that he was prepared to guard theentrance, he curled up once more beneath his robe and, with D'Arcy at hisside, fell asleep in a chamber which sunlight never entered, but wheredarkness never reigned supreme.

  * * * * * * * *

  At about the time Johnny and his companions reached the cave, SandyMacDonald, the veteran prospector who had risen early that he might get afull day of prospecting, heard a scratching at the door of the cabin.

  As he threw open the door Ginger, Johnny's gray leader, with a look uponhis face that seemed almost human, sprang upon him.

  "Ginger!" Sandy exclaimed. "Where's Johnny?"

  For answer the dog turned and dashed through the door. He went a distancedown the trail. Then, seeing he was not followed, turned back.

  The aged prospector's astonishment knew no bounds. He had not expectedJohnny back, had believed him safe in some cabin or camping beneath thestars. And here was his indispensable leader racing into the cabin anddemanding attention.

  "Something's happened! I get you!" Sandy said to the dog. "Just a cup ofcoffee, and I'll be with you."

  The intelligent creature appeared to understand for, weary messenger thathe was, he threw himself down beside the fire and fell fast asleep.

  The instant the door opened, he was on his feet, ready to lead the wayback over that long weary trail to the cabin he had left, and then on andon, who could tell how much farther? until they came upon his youngmaster. Such is the humble devotion of a faithful dog.

  "Ginger, old boy," the gray-bearded prospector rumbled, as he turned histeam into the trail, "I figured I'd come onto that pitchblende today,regular velvety black stuff and heavy, heavy as gold, the real stuff, andradium, radium aplenty. But when a pal of ours is in distress, that's adifferent matter. Success? Well now, that can wait until to-morrow." Sothey hit the long, long trail.

  * * * * * * * *

  But Curlie Carson and his mechanic Jerry--what had happened to them? Theyhad slept the night through and with the dawning of a bright new day wereeager to be on their way.

  "I'd give a penny to know why that chap lives way up here back ofbeyond," Curlie said to Jerry, as they prepared to warm up their motor.

  "Don't you know?"

  "No. Do you?"

  "Absolutely. He's a trapper. Scattered all over this country, thesetrappers are."

  "Then he's not connected with the 'Gray Streak?'"

  "Not a chance; nor is that little chap back there beyond Fort Chipewyan,the one with the carrier pigeon."

  Curlie showed his disappointment at this fresh discovery. He had come along way on a wild goose chase. He had hoped against hope that this cabinmight furnish a clue to the solution of the mystery that gathered itselfabout that gray rover of the sky. Yet here was Jerry telling him therewas not a chance.

  "But why didn't he tell us he was a trapper?" he objected.

  "These men of the North are silent fellers," Jerry said slowly. "You'llfind that out. They live in the midst of silence. They're here becausethey love silence. People that like cities live in 'em and talk aplenty.

  "One thing helps," Jerry added after a time. "Our record is still good.We've added a grand distance to our total year's flight and, this beingan errand of mercy, counts extra special."

  Curlie smiled as he thought what an accidental errand of mercy it hadbeen.

  "But not so much an accident after all," he said half aloud. "God plannedit, beyond a shadow of a doubt. And what God plans can never be called anaccident."

  The baggage their passenger proposed to take with him was proof enoughthat he was a trapper. This was composed of bales of white fox skins.

  "This," he explained, "is only part of our catch. My partner left withthe rest on our dog sled five days ago. It's five hundred miles to FortChipewyan. You have to carry food for yourself and your dogs. We didn'tdare try it together. Too much of a load for so long a journey. I was tocome down later. But now," he smiled, "guess I'll beat him out. That'sthe glory of the air."

  "Yes," Curlie agreed, "that's the glory of the air."

  Even then his mind was but half occupied with the affairs of the moment.He was thinking of the mystery plane.

  "What became of them
?" he asked himself. "Did they make a forced landing?Could they have crashed? Did they reach their base? If so, where is it?Will I ever find it? And if I do?

  "The riddle of the storm," he murmured, "of two storms. When will it besolved?" For the first time he realized how fully this problem had takenpossession of his thoughts.

  "Such a riddle!" His tone became animated. "And its solution means somuch to these far flung dwellers of the North.

  "One thing comes first. That's clear. We must get this wounded man to thedoctor at Resolution!

  "Oh, Jerry," he called. "Is the motor O.K.?"

  "Absolutely."

  "All right. Let's go."

  The motor thundered. Curlie climbed aboard, looked back to see that hispassenger was ready, then set the plane gliding over the snow. A momentlater the great bird rose with a graceful glide and soared toward theclouds.

  * * * * * * * *

  Johnny Thompson did not sleep long in the hunchback's curious cave.Everything was too strange for that. There were too many matters thatneeded thinking through.

  He did not waken suddenly, nor all at once. For a time, only half awake,he lay there wondering. Who were these mysterious airmen? Why had theytaken him prisoner? Would they follow the track of the hunchback's sledand attempt to recapture him? He sincerely hoped they would not.

  "Could be but one end to that," he told himself. "They'd be shot throughand through by my Indian friend's arrows." He had seen that Indian kill agrizzly bear with those arrows.

  He thought of Ginger, his dog leader.

  "Did he escape, or did they kill him?" He was bound to believe that hisgood pal of many a long trail was safe.

  "And if he is," he whispered to himself, "if he is--" Suddenly he satstraight up, wide awake. A thought had struck him squarely between theeyes. "If Ginger is alive, he has gone back over the trail. He has toldSandy MacDonald that something is wrong. They will start back over thetrail. They will follow until they come to the camp of those mysteriousaviators. Then Sandy will be made prisoner. And Ginger! They will surelykill him this time.

  "It must not happen! I must attempt to find that trail and head them off.There is not a moment to lose! I--"

  He broke off to stare about him. His startled eyes, roving from corner tocorner of the cave and from floor to ceiling, had, even in his excitementand anxiety, taken note of an astonishing fact. He was in a cave. Therewas no lamp. Not an oil lamp, not an electric torch was to be found; andyet the place was illumined. And outside it was still night.

  "It's the walls," he told himself. "They are all alight.

  "D'Arcy! D'Arcy Arden!" He put out a trembling hand to shake hiscompanion into wakefulness. "D'Arcy! Wake up! We are surrounded by wallsof light!"