On the Edge of the Arctic; Or, An Aeroplane in Snowland

by H. L. Sayler

  CHAPTER VII

  A TEMPESTUOUS VOYAGE TO ATHABASCA LANDING

  During their stay in Edmonton, the two Indian rivermen had been livingroyally in a lodging house near the depot. Early on the morning of thedeparture, Colonel Howell rounded up his old employees and when the mixedfreight and passenger train backed up to the depot, the party was readyto board it. It was with satisfaction that all saw two Chicago & NorthWestern freight cars, which Colonel Howell identified as those containinghis oil outfit, and next to the extra passenger coach, the specialbaggage car.

  A mist was falling and it was not cheerful. It was time for Mr. Zept totake his leave. For some moments he and Colonel Howell spoke apart andthen, without any special word of admonition to his son, he grasped thehand of each boy in turn.

  "I hope you'll all be friends," was his general good-bye, "and thatyou'll all stand by each other. Good-bye. Colonel Howell is my friend andI advise all of you to do just as he tells you. Take care of yourselves,"and with no further words, the rich ranch owner helped the little partyto load its baggage into the express car.

  There were many curious people at the depot, among whom, not the leastconspicuous, were Moosetooth and La Biche. Men from the frontier and adapper young mounted policeman all came to speak to the two Indians.

  With most of the passengers either hanging out of the car windows orjammed together on the platforms--for at the last moment, Colonel Howellhad readily given his consent to the superintendent that he might alsothrow open the special car to the general public, as far at least asMorineville, the end of the passenger run--the creaking train crawledaround a bend, and while the boys and Colonel Howell waved a farewell toMr. Zept, the journey northward on the new road began.

  The privacy of the special car at once disappeared. The unusual jam wasdue to the impassable condition of the stage trail. Into the special carthere came not only hunters and traders, but many women and children whohad prevailed upon the railway officials to help them forward on the laststage of their journey into the river land.

  As the pitching train made its way slowly beyond the city limits, Norman,Roy and Paul also found themselves on the platform, ready for the firstsight of a new country. They were looking for sterile plains. Instead,they found black land freely dotted with clumps of trees, with walls ofwild flowers on each side of the track. Magnificent strawberries almostreddened the ground, while, by the fences, the ripening Saskatoon berrygave the first positive sign of the new vegetation of which they were tosee so much.

  For three hours the train crept forward, stopping now and then at littlestations, and at last reached the considerable settlement of Morineville.Here, Colonel Howell expected to meet the construction train to which thespecial car was to be attached, and from this point they were to make theremainder of their journey of seventy-five miles to Athabasca Landing asthe sole passengers of their car.

  But bad news awaited the travelers. The construction train had notarrived but it was expected during the afternoon. The superintendent,taking leave of his guests, left orders that their car should beforwarded on the returning construction train and at noon he left on thepassenger train for Edmonton. Colonel Howell's car was switched onto aspur and then began a wait for news of the construction train.

  An affable telegraph operator did what he could to appease the anxioustravelers. By telephone he learned that the expected train had not yetmade half the journey between Athabasca Landing and Morineville, and inthat distance had been off the track four times. On the operator'ssuggestion, the adventurers made their way to the village for dinner andthen returned to their car and spent the afternoon in hearing from timeto time that the construction train was off the track again.

  "Promises well for a night ride!" suggested Roy.

  "It doesn't mean anything," explained Colonel Howell. "They just slapdown an iron frog and run on again. Don't get scared about that."

  When time for supper arrived, the agent gave it as his judgment that thetrain couldn't get in before midnight and, in that event, that itcertainly would not go back until the next morning. Being assured by thisemployee that in case his theory was not correct he would send them word,the party abandoned their car to have supper and sleep in a little Frenchhotel.

  The supper was bad and the beds were worse. Norman and Roy longed fortheir new blankets and the woods, and slept with difficulty. Some time,about the middle of the night, the two boys heard the strident shriek ofa locomotive. They at once rushed to Colonel Howell's room, eager to maketheir way back to the depot, but recalling the operator's promise, theprospector persuaded them to go to bed again and when it was daylightthey all awoke to find no train in sight. But the operator was waitingfor them and ate breakfast with the party.

  "She come in with a busted cylinder," he exclaimed, "and they had to goto Edmonton to get 'er fixed. But she'll be back this morning sometimeand you'll have a nice ride to the Landing." Then he laughed. "That is,if you can pull a heavy passenger coach over them tracks."

  It was eleven o'clock when the old-fashioned engine reappeared but anymotive power seemed good enough and when the little Irish conductor readhis orders, he cheerfully busied himself in making the passenger car andthe three other cars a part of his train. The spirit of discontentdisappeared and once again the northbound expedition was on its way.

  Until twelve o'clock that night, the indefatigable little Irishman pushedhis heavy train, which included many cars of long-delayed freight, overthe new tracks, which alternately seemed to float and sink into the softsand and muskeg. Four times in that journey some one car of the trainslid off the track and just as often the energetic crew pulled it backagain. Once the accident was more serious. When the piling-up jarringtold that another pair of wheels were in the muskeg and the train came toa crashing stop, it was found that the front axles of the car had jammedthemselves so far rearward that the car was out of service. But againthere was little delay. With two jack screws, the little Irishman liftedthe car sideways and toppled it over. Coupling up the other cars, thetrain proceeded.

  At six o'clock in the evening supper was found in the cook car of aconstruction camp. It did not grow dark until eleven o'clock, and by thistime, Colonel Howell and his friends were beginning to get a little sleepcurled up on the seats of their car. An hour later, having creakinglycrossed a long trestle, the strange train, still bumping and rattling,made its way along the even newer and worse track which led intoAthabasca Landing.

  There were neither depot nor light to make cheer for the tired travelers.With the help of Moosetooth and La Biche and a few half-breeds, theconsiderable baggage of the party was dumped out onto the sand of the newroadway and then, all joining in the task, it was carried across thestreet to the new Alberta Hotel. For the first time the boys discoveredthat there was almost a chill of frost in the air; in the office of thehotel a fire was burning in a big stove and from the front door ColonelHowell pointed through the starlight to a bank of mist beyond therailroad track.

  "There she is, boys," he remarked.

  "You mean the river?" exclaimed Roy.

  "Our river now," answered their elder. "There's plenty of room here andgood beds. Turn in and don't lose any time in the morning. We've gotnothing ahead of us now but work. And remember, too, you're not in theland of condensed milk yet; you'll have the best breakfast to-morrowmorning you're going to have for many a day."

  Moosetooth and old La Biche had already disappeared toward the mistyriverbank.

  Dawn came early the next morning and with almost the first sign of itNorman and Roy were awake. From their window they had their first sightof the Athabasca. A light fog still lay over the river and thethree-hundred-foot abrupt hills on the far side. Had they been able tomake out the tops of these hills, they would have seen a few poplartrees. A steep brown road that started from the end of a ferry andmounted zigzag into the fog, was the beginning of a trail that at oncepassed into a desolate wilderness. They were within sight of the endlessuntraveled land that reached, unbroken by
civilization, to thefar-distant Arctic.

  Beneath the fog the wide river slipped southward, a waveless sheet movingsilently as oil, and whose brown color was only touched here and there byfloating timber and the spume of greasy eddies.

  "Not very cheerful looking," was Norman's comment.

  "No," answered Roy, "she's no purling trout-brook; she couldn't be and bewhat she is--one of the biggest rivers in America."

  The boys dressed and hurried through the new railroad yards to the muddybanks of a big river. The town of Athabasca Landing lay at their backs.The riverbank itself was as crude and unimproved as if the place had notbeen a commercial center for Indians and fur men for two hundred years.

  To the left there was an exception, where, close on the riverbank, whitepalisades inclosed the little offices and warehouse of the NorthernTransportation Company. Just beyond this, a higher and stronger palisadeprotected the riverbank from the winter ice jam. To the right and downthe river a treeless bank extended, devoid of wharves and buildings.Opposite the main portion of the town, in this open space, a steamboatwas approaching completion on crude ways. Near this there were a fewancient log cabins, used for generations by the Hudson's Bay Company asworkshops and storehouses.

  Three blocks to the west and in the heart of the new city the oldhistoric H. B. Company was then erecting a modern cement and pressedbrick store, probably at the time the most northern expression ofcivilization's thrift. Still farther to the south the river swerved in abend to the east and lost itself beyond a giant sweep of hills. Not theleast suggestive objects that came within the two boys' hasty view were afew Hudson's Bay flatboats, moored to the bank and half full of water toprotect their tarred seams. In craft such as these, Norman and Roy, withtheir friends, were now about to venture forth on the river flowingswiftly by them, and not even the new steamboat was as attractive asthese historic "sturgeon heads."

  Also, in the far distance, on the riverbank where it curved toward theeast, the young adventurers could make out the thin smoke of camp fireswhere a few tents and bark shacks marked the settlement of the riverIndians. Here they knew Moosetooth and La Biche had passed the night.

  Colonel Howell's prediction as to the breakfast was fully confirmed.After this, real activity began at once. Norman and Roy knew that theyhad reached the end of civilization, and had already abandoned cityclothes. Both the boys appeared in Stetson hats, flannel shirts, belts,and half-length waterproof shoes.

  Colonel Howell made no change other than to put on a blue flannel shirt.The young Count made a more portentous display. When he rejoined theothers after breakfast, he wore a soft light hat, the wide brim of whichflapped most picturesquely. His boots were those of a Parisianequestrian, high-heeled like those of a cowboy, but of varnished blackleather. His clothing was dark, and the belted coat fitted him trimly.

  Colonel Howell left at once to give orders about the placing of his cars,and Norman and Roy were dispatched to the Indian camp to find Moosetoothand La Biche, who were to go a short distance up the river and bring thewaiting flatboats down to a point opposite the freight cars. This dutyappeared to interest young Zept and he cheerfully joined the other boysin their task.

  Opposite the new steamboat they passed a larger and noisier hotel, infront of which were collected many curious people of the country, many ofwhom were lazy-looking, slovenly-garbed half-breeds.

  Young Zept was full of animation, spoke jovially to any one who caughthis eye and, although it was early in the day, suggested that his youngfriends stop with him in the bar room. But Norman and Roy's wholeinterest was in the task before them and when they saw the Count abruptlysalute a red-jacketed mounted policeman who was standing in the door ofthe hotel, they hurried on without even the formality of declining Paul'sinvitation.

  By the time the old steersmen had been found, the Count was out of theirminds. Although the riverbank was sticky with mud, there was anexhilarating crispness in the air and the river fog had now disappeared.Led by the two Indians, the boys made their way a half mile up the river.Here, on a high clean bank, stood the big red river warehouse of the H.B. Company. Among the willow bushes opposite it was a fleet of new"sturgeon heads," and just below these, two boats that had been put asidefor Colonel Howell.

  From among the bushes near the warehouse the two Indians produced a pumpand then for two hours took turns in drawing the water from the halfsubmerged boats. Just before noon, Moosetooth taking his place in thestern of the rear boat with a small steering oar, La Biche loosened thecraft and Norman and Roy were on their first voyage in the historicflatboat of the Athabasca.

  It was curious to note the skill with which the veteran riverman allowedthe current to carry his boats on their way, and the ease with which theywere finally drawn in to the bank opposite the freight cars.

  Roy proposed to secure a shovel for cleaning out the mud, but old LaBiche laughed.

  "The sun," he said, "he goin' do dat."

  Near the landing, as the boys returned to the hotel, they discovered athing they had not noticed in the morning. A grizzled "Baptiste," asNorman liked to designate each Indian, was busy with a draw knife, achisel and a maul, finishing steering oars. These enormous objectsresembled telegraph poles, being of pine timber, slightly flattened atone end to resemble the blade of an oar, and at the other end cut downinto long handles that the user might clasp with his two hands.

  When the Indian had roughly trimmed these giant oars, with the help of anassistant, who in the meantime seemed to have no other duty except topuff his charred black pipe, the old "Baptiste" balanced the piece oftimber on a rock. Carefully testing the spar, in order to get the exactpoint of equilibrium, the oar maker then made a rectangular hole throughthe six inches of timber. The two boys understood.

  At the rear of each flatboat a steel pin extended seven or eight inchesabove the woodwork. When this pin was thrust through the hole in the oar,the great sweep hung almost balanced, and the steersman who used it toguide the unwieldy craft forced the blade of the oar back and forthagainst the current with the force of his body. The boys found it almostimpossible to lift one of the oars.

  "I can see now," panted Roy, as he looked over the tree-like sweep,"where experience comes in."