by Roy J. Snell
CHAPTER VII AND THEN CAME ADVENTURE
When you buy a house, or even a cabin in the wilderness, how much of itdo you really buy? All of it or only part? The walls, the roof, thefloor, surely all these are yours. But all those other things, the littlecupboard in the corner, all carved out from logs with crude tools, butdone so well for someone who has been loved--do you buy this too? And allthe other delicate touches that made a house a home, can you buy these ordo you only try to buy these and fail? It was thus that Florence thoughtas she sat dreaming in the sun outside the cabin.
From within came the sound of voices. Her aunt and Madam Chicaski weretalking. Already her aunt had come to love the company of this hugeRussian woman who had first made this cabin into a home.
A week had passed and still the woman lingered. How long would she stay?No one knew nor seemed to care overmuch. She insisted on working, thisstout old woman. And how she did work! When Mark began going to theforest cutting dead trees and dragging them in with the tractor for thewinter's supply of wood, she shouldered an axe and went along. Then howthe trees came crashing down! Even Mark was no match for her. In fivedays a great pile of wood loomed up beside the cabin. High time, too, forthe first flurry of snow had arrived.
That Madam Chicaski had a gentler side they learned as she talked besidethe fire in the long evenings. She told of her own adventure on this veryspot when the valley was all but unknown and life for her was new. Manythings she told, tales that brought forth smiles and tears.
One subject she never touched upon, nor was she asked to tell, what hadbecome of the great copper kettle, the seven golden candlesticks and allelse that had been left behind. "If she stays long enough, in time Ishall know," Florence assured herself.
There were other things she did not tell. Why had she left the valley andhow? Where was her husband now? This much was certain, she was not now inwant. Florence had come upon her one afternoon unobserved. She wasthumbing a large roll of bills. At the slightest sound she concealed themunder her ample dress.
At times she acted strangely. She would go to the back of the yard andstand, for a quarter hour or more, contemplating the great stump. Overthis, during the summer, morning-glories had bloomed in profusion. Atthat moment it was covered only by dry and rustling vines. At such timesas this on the Russian woman's face was a look of devotion. "Like onesaying her prayers," Florence thought.
There came a day when, for a time at least, all thoughts of themysterious Madam Chicaski were banished from the little family'sthoughts. Mystery was replaced by thrilling adventure.
Once again the air was filled with sound. A large, gray hydroplane camezooming in from the west. They were waiting at the water's edge, theHughes family and Madam, when the pilot taxied his plane close in toshore. Florence was not there. She was away on a visit to Palmer.
"How would you like to paddle out and get me?" the pilot invited as heclimbed out upon the fuselage.
Mark rowed out in their small home-made skiff.
"I'm on an errand of mercy," the man explained at once, "and I'm going toneed some help. Just received a message by short-wave radio that some menare in trouble up in the mountains."
"Hunters?" Mark suggested.
"Yes."
"In a blue and gray plane?" Mary's dark eyes widened. How about Bill, shewas thinking. Despite his shortcomings, Bill held a large place inslender Mary's heart.
"Any--any one hurt?" she asked.
"One of the hunters has been badly handled by a bear," the man went on."Something's gone wrong with their motor, too. They can't bring him out."
"Bear?" said Mark. "That's sure to be Bill. He'd march right up and shoota bear in the eye."
"Yes--yes, it must be Bill," Mary exclaimed, striving in vain to controlher emotions. "We must do something to help him. What can we do?" Monthsshut away from the outside world had drawn their little company closetogether. Bound by bonds of friendship and mutual understanding, despitethe faults of some, they were very close to one another.
"You can help a great deal," said the pilot, "that is," he hesitated, "ifyou're willing to take a chance."
"A--a chance?" Mary stammered.
"Sure," the man smiled, "you look like a good nurse. Your brother, here,I am told, is a fine motor mechanic. Climb in the plane and come alongwith me--both of you."
"A ticket to adventure!" The words so often repeated now echoed in Mary'sears.
"What do you say?" Mark turned to her.
"There--there's still work to be done," she stammered.
"The work can wait. This appears a plain call of duty." Mark's voicetrembled ever so slightly.
"All right. We'll go." Mary felt a thrill course up her spine. At thesame instant she caught the eye of Dave Kennedy. In those fine eyes sheread something quite wonderful, a look of admiration and yet of concern.
She and Dave had become great friends. Dave was a wonderful fellow. HisScotch mother was small, quite frail, yet altogether lovely. When theirlogs in their cabin walls had begun to warp, Dave and his father hadsodded it up, quite to the eaves. Now they were all set for winter.
"I'll look after your horse and cow and--and cut the wood," Dave saidhuskily. "I only wish I might take your place." He looked Mary squarelyin the eye.
"I'm glad you can't," she laughed, looking away. "I'm sure it will be awonderful adventure."
"Cold up there," suggested the pilot. "We shall need blankets and food.We may have to freeze in and fly out on skis."
The Hughes family was not stingy. A huge cart-load of supplies wascarried to the water's edge, then ferried to the airplane.
"I stay," said stout Madam Chicaski. "I stay until you come back. I lookafter everything." Mary's heart warmed to this powerful old woman.
"Goodbye," she screamed as the motor thundered. "Goodbye, everyone." Amoment later, for the first time in her life, she was rising toward theupper spaces where clouds are made.
The moments that followed will ever remain like the memory of a dream inthe girl's mind. Though the motor roared, they appeared to be standingstill in mid-air while a strangely beautiful world glided beneath them.Here a ribbon that was a stream wound on between dark green bands thatwere fringes of forest, here a tiny lake mirrored the blue sky, there abroad stretch of swamp-land lay brown and drear, while ever before them,seeming to beckon them on--to what, to service or to death?--were thesnow-capped mountains.
So an hour passed. Swamps vanished. Jagged rocks appeared. Hemlock andspruce, dark as night, stood out between fields of glistening snow.
And then, with a quick intake of breath, Mary sighted a tiny lake. Halfhidden among rocky crags, it seemed the most marvelous part of this dreamthat was not a dream. And yes--clutching at her breast to still herheart's wild beating, she shouted to her silent, awe-struck brother:
"That is the place!"
Nor was she wrong. With a sudden thundering swoop that set her headspinning, the powerful ship of the air circled low for a landing.
"Now!" she breathed, and again, "Now!"
One instant it seemed they would graze the rocks to the left of them, thenext the bank of trees to the right. And then--
"What was that?" Mark shouted suddenly.
As the pontoons of the plane touched the surface of the lake, there hadcome a strange ripping sound.
They had not long to wait for the answer. Hardly had the airplane taxiedto a spot twenty feet from a shelving bank, when the plane began settlingon one side.
"Tough luck!" exclaimed the pilot. "A little ice formed on the lake. Musthave punctured a pontoon. No real danger, I guess. Those fellows shouldbe here any--"
"Yes! Yes! There they are now!" Mary exclaimed, pointing to a spot wheretwo men were putting off in a small boat.
The boat, she saw at once, was one used on their own small lake not somany days before. In a narrow cove she sighted the blue and grayairplane.
"Well!" laughed their pilot. "Here we are."
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nbsp; "Yes," the girl thought soberly. "Here we are. Two hundred miles fromanywhere in a frozen wilderness. Two disabled airplanes. Food for amonth. One injured boy. Fine outlook."
The instant her eyes fell upon the men in the boat she experienced onemore shock. Peter Loome, the man with a hard face, who hated all Eskimos,was there. She barely suppressed a shudder. Just why she feared and allbut hated this man she was not able at that moment to say.
She was not one to see the dull gray side of life's little cloud forlong. The instant they reached the improvised camp she asked after theinjured person and was not surprised to find that it was Bill.
"That bear," Bill drawled as she dressed the rather deep wounds on hisarms and chest, "took an unfair advantage of me. He could run a lotfaster'n any man. And he ran the wrong way. Funny part was, when he gotup with me, he wanted to hug me. If he hadn't been badly hurt, he'd havekilled me."
"If you'd left him alone in the first place, probably he wouldn't havebothered you," Mary said soberly.
"No-o, probably not," Bill replied ruefully.
"Oh, well," one of the hunters consoled him, "you'll have his skin for arug back there in your cabin this winter."
"Not for me," Bill exploded. "I've been cold long enough. That cabinleaks air. Soon's I get back I'll be startin' for old Alabam', or atleast some place that's warm."
Mary frowned but said nothing. Already she had come to love that valleywhere their cabin stood by the little lake. If it was her good fortune toreturn there in safety she would not ask for more. As for Bill, he had,she thought, brought all his troubles upon himself. But Bill was woundedand ill. What he needed, at the moment, was kindness and gentle care, notadvice.
That night Mary and Mark sat down for some time beside a glowingcampfire. Bill was resting well, would sleep, they thought, quietly. Theothers, too, had retired.
"Mark," the girl's tone was sober, "I've always wanted adventure. Mostyoung people want adventure in one form or another, I guess. But when itcomes--"
"It doesn't seem so wonderful after all," Mark laughed low.
"Well, no," his sister agreed.
"May not be so bad after all," Mark said cheerfully. "While you weretaking care of Bill, we floated three large dry logs out to our damagedship. We lashed them to the pontoon support. That means she won't sinkany more. And when we are frozen in, we--"
"Frozen in!" Mary was startled. She had realized in a vague sort of waythat at this very moment the thin ice on the lake was hardening, thatthey could not hope to get away on pontoons, yet the thought of a forcedwait was disturbing.
"How--how long?" she managed to ask.
"Perhaps ten days, perhaps a month. Depends on the weather."
"Ten days, a month!" The girl's head swam. Adventure! Surely this was it!
"But, Mark," her voice was low with emotion, "so many things mighthappen. A storm may come roaring up the mountainside and--"
"And wreck the planes beyond repair. Yes, but we'll do our best and wemust trust God for the rest."
"Yes," the girl thought. "We must trust Him and do our best."
Then, because she did not wish longer to dwell upon their own position,she forced her thoughts into other channels. She tried to picture thefolks at home--mother, quietly knitting by the fire, Florence, if shewere back from Palmer, poring over a book, and silent, occupied only withher thoughts, the strange Madam Chicaski.
How often she had wished she might read that woman's thoughts. Did shesometimes think of the missing copper kettle and the seven goldencandlesticks? If so, what did she think? What was in her mind as shestood for a long time staring at the great stump?
"We'll get away from here," the girl thought at last. "We'll go back toour snug cabin and the joys of winter. How peaceful and secure we shallbe. Let the wind roar. We shall be snug and warm.
"And Sunday! What a day that will be! The Petersons with the twins willcome over in a bobsled, and the Dawsons in their home-made cutter. TheSabins have a dog team. What sings we shall have!
"Mark!" she exclaimed. "It's too bad you had to give up training yourdogs." Mark had befriended five shaggy dogs deserted by settlers goneback to the States.
"Be back to the dogs before you know it. Besides," Mark laughed a low,merry laugh, "there's the cat. What the dogs can't do, the cat can." (Hewas speaking of his caterpillar tractor. They called these "cats" forshort.)
"Yes," Mary joined in the laugh. "But it will be truly thrilling to havea dog team. Wish we had it right now. Then if everything went wrong wecould drive out."
"Yes, but everything won't go wrong." Mark rose and yawned sleepily."You'll see."
"Will we see?" the girl asked herself as, a quarter of an hour later, shecrept beneath heavy blankets to lie down upon a bed of sweet-scentedboughs. She knew their plans in a general sort of way. The gray planecarried skis. The blue and gray one had none. Mark and the pilots wouldwork on the disabled motor of the blue and gray. If they got it workingthey would make skis for it. The two planes would take off on skis assoon as the ice was safe.
"A ticket to adventure," she whispered. "When and how will our adventureend? Ah, well, Mr. McQueen says that so long as our adventure comes inthe line of duty, Providence will see us through, so surely there isnothing to fear." With this comforting thought, she fell asleep.