“Whew, what do you know about that?” said Bob, in an awed tone.
“And on the very night that we decided to set up the radio, too,” said Frank.
“It seems like the hand of fate,” declared Jack. “Say, we must get father and Tom Farnum.”
“Thorwaldsson’s airship found wrecked on land near the mouth of the MacKenzie,” said Bob. “And the skeleton of the aviator. Can you beat it?” he ejaculated again.
“Hey, Jack, wait a minute,” cried Frank, running after his companion, who already had started for camp. “Discovered by Indians who were bringing out furs, did you get that?”
Jack nodded, but saved his breath as he continued to run. Frank fell in beside him, Bob pounding at his heels.
In a few moments they burst excitedly upon the graveled beach by the river, where camp had been made for the night. Dick and Art lay outstretched in slumber under the nearest fir trees. Mr. Hampton and Farnum were still deep in their discussion, and apparently had not even been aware of the absence of the boys, for they looked up in surprise as the latter approached.
“What is it, Jack? What’s the matter?” demanded Mr. Hampton, rising to his feet in alarm, as he noted his son’s excitement.
Quickly, Jack related what had occurred, describing their setting up of the radio, their picking-up of the Edmonton station’s nightly program, and their discovery that Thorwaldsson’s airship had been found far behind them near the mouth of the MacKenzie.
“It was only a bulletin news report, Dad,” Jack explained, “yet I suppose it contains all the facts. Evidently the discovery of the airship had been made weeks ago by Indians, going to the mouth of the MacKenzie with their Winter catch of furs. But, of course, it took a long time for the news to reach civilization. It was just made public today. The very day, too, that we decided to rig up the radio. It certainly seems like the hand of fate, doesn’t it, Dad? If we had waited until tomorrow, or set up the radio yesterday, probably we would not have known of this discovery.”