“Now you go down to the river and get me a drink. You’ve had it soft enough.”
The return trip was almost a duplicate of the morning flight. In this, however, the aviators were able to follow the stream itself, and they flew low, protected from the evening breeze by the river hills. The ride did not seem long, and the boys were particularly interested in another view of the Rapids, which they had been unable to study in the morning flight. Not a single human being, going or coming, had they seen on the long stretch of river.
In Athabasca, Roy had learned that their boat crew had not all returned, but that La Biche and Moosetooth had reached town and that both were already serving as pilots on the new Hudson’s Bay Company steamer that had been launched in their absence and was now making its first trip up the river. They were almost passing the oil camp when the sound of a shot attracted their attention and then, guided by Paul’s worn and faded hat, they banked and landed in the rear of the aerodrome at ten minutes of nine.
CHAPTER XII
BREASTING A BLIZZARD IN AN AIRSHIP
When Roy turned over his half dozen telegrams to Colonel Howell, the two boys saw that the messages were of some significance. A little later they saw their patron reading them a second time. But when the beefsteak supper was served he seemed to have forgotten business. But that was only his way. When the prospector had reached his after-dinner cigar, he said abruptly:
“So you say everything went all right!”
“Like taking a buggy ride,” answered Norman. “Don’t you want us to go oftener? If it wasn’t for using up the gas, there isn’t any reason why we shouldn’t meet each mail stage.”