by H. L. Sayler
CHAPTER III
COLONEL HOWELL MAKES A NOVEL PROPOSAL
"My name is Howell," began the man; "Hill Howell," he went on, "and inthe places where I'm best known I'm frequently called 'Colonel' Howell,but I don't get that title because I am a native Kentuckian. I secured itup in this part of the world--just why, I don't know. I'm not going totell you the story of my life or of any remarkable adventures, becauseI'm only a plain business man. But I'll have to repeat to you someaccount of my experience in the Northwest before you understand why I'mso interested in your machine and in you young men.
"In Kentucky," resumed Colonel Howell, after he had helped himself to acigar from his vest pocket, "we once thought we had oil. To prove howlittle we had, I spent my own small means and, while I got no oil tospeak of, I got a considerable knowledge of this industry. This came justin time for me to make my way to Kansas. That was fifteen years ago.There I found not only oil but considerable return for my labors. Itdidn't make me a rich man, but it gave me all the money I needed.
"Then I discovered that I had considerable of the spirit of adventure inme and I started for the Klondike. Like many another mistaken prospector,I determined to go overland and down the Mackenzie River. With a smallparty I started down the Athabasca River from Athabasca Landing. I wouldprobably have gone on and died in the wilderness, as most adventurers didwho took this route, but when we had gone three hundred miles down theriver and were just below the Big Rapids, at a place they call FortMcMurray, I caught the odor of oil again and the Klondike feverdisappeared.
"When I saw the tar sands and the plain signs of oil in the Fort McMurrayregion, I separated from the party and stopped in the new oil region.There were a few prospectors in the vicinity and having got the oil maniaagain, I found I was not prepared to make more than a preliminaryprospect. My former companions had consented to leave me but fewprovisions. I had to live practically alone and without adequateprovisions or turn back towards civilization at once.
"To the others in the field I discredited the possibilities of the regionand set out on foot, with a single Indian as a guide, to make my way toAthabasca Landing. Here I planned to secure food and proper tools andmachinery to return to Fort McMurray and develop what I believed would bea sensational sub-arctic oil region."
"I've heard about it," broke in Norman. "You pass Lac la Biche goingthere, don't you?"
Colonel Howell nodded and proceeded: "It was impossible to return toAthabasca Landing by canoe, as the river is too swift. For that reason Imade a thirty-day trip on foot and reached the Landing with the winterwell advanced.
"Here I found I could not get what machinery I needed and I put off myproject until the next season when the ice had gone out of the river. Ireturned to the States and in the following July I went back to theLanding ready to go down the river once more. I took with me, fromChicago and Edmonton, well-boring machinery and ample provisions for ayear's stay in the wilderness. At Athabasca Landing I found it impossibleto buy proper boats and I lost considerable time in making two largeflatboats patterned after the Hudson's Bay Company's batteaux."
"'Sturgeon heads,'" exclaimed Roy. "I've always wanted to see one ofthem."
"That's what they call 'em," exclaimed the colonel. "I guess I don't needto describe them to you. Well, when they were completed, I loaded mymachinery, quite a batch of lumber, and my flour and pork--I freightedall of this one hundred miles from Edmonton--and with three workmen, setout down the river with an Indian crew and a couple of old-timesteersmen."
"Who were they?" broke in Roy, with apparently uncalled-for eagerness.
"The best on the river," answered the colonel. "Old Moosetooth Martin andBill La Biche."
"Why, they're here on the ground!" almost shouted Roy.
"Yes," exclaimed Colonel Howell. "Do you know them? I'm on my way back tothe Landing now. They're going with me again."
Roy's mouth was open, as if this was a statement not to be lightly passedover, but Norman stopped him with an impatient: "Go on, please."
"I'll tell you about them later," the colonel added, as if to appeaseRoy. "They're both fine old Indians and I've been with them a good bitto-day. But even the best of them have their faults. You know, at theGrand Rapids these flatboats ought to be unloaded. Even then the beststeersman is bound to lose a boat now and then on the rocks. BothMoosetooth and La Biche cautioned me against running the Rapids loaded,but as it would take a week to portage around the Rapids, I took achance. Moosetooth got through all right, but La Biche--and I reckon he'sthe better man of the two--at least I had him on the more valuableboat--managed to find a rock and we were in luck to reach the bank alive.
"All my iron tubing and drilling machinery disappeared in the Rapids.There was no way to recover it and we went to Fort McMurray in the otherboat. It carried my lumber and most of the provisions, but I couldn'twork without tools. There was nothing to do but make the best of it and Ileft my three men to build a cabin and spend the winter in the wildernesswhile I went back on foot again to the Landing to buy a new outfit."
"Gee, that was tough," commented Norman.
"You boys have lived in the Northwest long enough to have learned thegreat lesson of this country," explained Colonel Howell. "This is aregion where you can't have a program and where, if you can't do a thingto-day, you can do it some other time. And, after all, it isn't a badphilosophy, just so long as you keep at it and do it sometime. They seemto do things slowly sometimes up in this wilderness land, but they alwaysseem to do them in the end. I guess it's the Indian way. I notice theyalways drive ahead until they get there, although there may be a goodmany stops on the way."
"Then what?" persisted Roy.
"I had to come back to the States--that was the end of last season,"continued the man, "and now I'm on my way again to reach the Athabasca.My outfit is in Edmonton, I hope. But this year I'll have a little lesstrouble. There's a railroad now between Edmonton and Athabasca Landingand I expect to get my equipment and my stores to the river in freightcars. I've been detained by other business and should have been in FortMcMurray by this time, as the ice goes out of the river late in May. AndI have my boats this year that I bought before I left the Landing.
"But when I tried to arrange for my old steersmen to pilot me down theriver again, I found that energetic Calgary had beaten me to it.Moosetooth and La Biche are not the best boatmen on the Athabasca, butthey are the ones I want. And I'm here, waiting for the show to close.They will go with me, and I suppose their families as well," addedColonel Howell with a grimace, "directly to Athabasca Landing, and in aweek from now there is no reason why we should not be drifting down thebig river again."
"Then your trouble'll begin again, won't it?" asked Norman.
Instead of answering, Colonel Howell sat in silence a few moments.
"There's a good deal I might say about the country I'm going into," hecontinued at last, "but I think you young men understand it pretty well."
"Pretty well up into the Barren Lands, isn't it?" asked Roy.
"The last of the wilderness before you reach the treeless plains,"explained the colonel, "but as far as Fort McMurray the region is a vasttrail-less extent of poplar and spruce. The winter comes in November andlasts until June. In that period, when the nights grow long, you have apretty good imitation of the Arctic. There are Indians here and there andgame abounds, but the white man passes only now and then. The dog andsled are yet the winter means of transportation and here you may find thelast of the trappers that have made history in the great Northwest.
"Some of this region will undoubtedly in time provide farms, but as yetno farmer has learned how to use the rich black soil of its river landsin the short summer seasons. In time, powerful steamers will navigate theAthabasca and also, in time, there will be railroads. When they come,"the speaker went on with a chuckle, "I hope to be able to supply themwith oil. This at least is why, for the third time, I'm making my wayinto that little-known country."
"I hope you don't get dum
ped again," suggested Norman.
"How genuinely do you hope that?" asked Colonel Howell instantly and withrenewed animation.
"Why, I just hope it," answered Norman, somewhat perplexed.
Colonel Howell hesitated a moment and then said abruptly: "You two boysare the best guarantee I could have against another accident. I want youto help me make a success of this thing. I've an idea and I got it themoment I saw your aeroplane to-day. Come with me into the wilderness."
"Us?" exclaimed both boys together.
"Why not?" hastily went on the oil man. "Don't you see what I've beendriving at? Don't you recall the two long trails I made back tocivilization--a month each time? Think of this: When I leave AthabascaLanding, the only way by which I can communicate with the world behind meis by courier, on foot; from Fort McMurray this means a tramp of fourweeks for me, and even to a skilled Indian it means three hundred milesthrough the poplar forest."
"And what could we do?" asked the breathless Roy.
"If what you tell me about your airship is true, you can make almostdaily trips for mail. At least, it would be as easy for me to keep intouch with civilization as if I had a railroad train at my disposal,"declared Colonel Howell springing to his feet.
"But we couldn't do that," began Norman. "Our fathers--"
"I've an idea and I got it the minute I saw youraeroplane to-day."]
"What's the use of all the energy you have expended on this machine?"demanded the man earnestly. "Is it a dream or do you believe what youhave told me? I'm not a millionaire, but I'm sure I could make yourservices to me worth while. At least you don't need to hesitate on thatscore. I think you can do all you have said this machine can do. Anyway,I'll pay you well for making the attempt, and I'll undertake to get theconsent of your fathers. Of course you can't go without that. Would yoube willing to go if I can arrange this?"
"You bet your life!" announced Roy instantly.
"It's a pretty serious thing," began Norman, "and dangerous too--"
"Oh," broke in Colonel Howell, "then you'd rather have some one else tryout your glass cage and electric stoves."
"But it's a long way from home," went on Norman, growing red in the face.
"No farther for you than for me," explained the colonel, still laughing."And we'll all go to Fort McMurray on the flatboats. If you can't flyback you can at least do what I have done twice--walk."
"And Moosetooth and La Biche are going to run the boats?" asked Norman.
"They certainly are," answered Colonel Howell, "and if you're interestedin those things, there'll be plenty of moose and bear and deer standin'on the river banks waiting for a shot."
Norman looked at Roy, who was almost a picture of disgust, and then, inself-defense, he said: "I'd like to go if the folks consent. As for thatcar, it'll do everything we've said and don't you forget that."
Colonel Howell, apparently taking this as a surrender, caught the twoboys by their shoulders and exclaimed:
"It's gettin' late. Lock up your shop and let's go and see what yourfathers think of my project."
Elated and nervous, the boys turned and, as if under a hypnotic spell,began to push the car into the aerodrome. And once inside the littlebuilding, with set lips, as if working his courage up to that point,Norman broke the silence by saying: "I was going to make my first trip tothe States this winter."
"Next summer would be a better time. Why don't you go in style?" askedColonel Howell. "We'll come out in the spring and we ought to have acomfortable enough home during the bad weather. You can't spend yourmoney and when you get back home you can make your trip and go all overthe States."
Both boys looked at him as if not knowing what to say next.
"I never hired any aviators," went on Colonel Howell, with his old smilecoming back, "and I don't know the union price of aerial operators, butI'll give you your board and keep and three hundred dollars a monthapiece while you're with me. How does that strike you?"
"I don't think we'll be worth it," were the only words that Roy couldfind to express his dazed feelings.
"But you don't know anything about that," said Colonel Howell promptly."You might easily be worth a great deal more."
While the colonel spoke, he could not help noticing Norman's rapidcalculation on the ends of his fingers.
"In April, that would be nine months," remarked Norman at last, "andthat's twenty-seven hundred dollars. We could go to France on that, Roy,"he added suddenly. "Let's lock up and go home."
In a few moments the excited aviators and the well-satisfied ColonelHowell emerged from the aerodrome just as young Count Zept ran up.
"Are you fellows going to stay here all night?" he exclaimed, almost outof breath. "I thought you told me you'd meet me at seven o'clock at thecar. Father's been there for a half hour. We're waiting to take youhome."
It was necessary at once to introduce Colonel Howell to young Zept. Asthe oil man heard the name, his face brightened anew.
"You're not the son of Jack Zept, are you?" the colonel asked as hegrasped the young man's hand.
"John C. Zept is my father's name," answered the Count. "He's a horseranchman. Do you know him?"
The colonel chuckled. "Of course," he answered hastily. "I met him on theupper Peace; shot sheep with him in '95. Forgot he lived here. If I canjoin you, I'd like to meet your father. You can put me down at the KingGeorge. I think," the smiling colonel added, turning to Norman and Roy,"that you boys had better go home, talk it over with your fathers, andI'll look you up a little later in the evening."
"Anywhere you like," exclaimed the young Count, "the machine's waiting.Father'll be glad to see an old friend."