Lee Renaud could feel his heart thumping against his double-furred shirt. He had not dreamed that his eyes would ever see such a thing—a great mound that was one vast heap of wealth, piled up in plain sight, set out where anyone strolling by in the course of the last thousand years might have seen it.
A few hours of work and they had collected bagfuls of samples, so rich that the naked eye could almost estimate their value.
Excitement and happiness swirled through Lee Renaud. But it was not all “gold” excitement. His chief thrill was that his radio had passed a great test. Despite the creeping touch of abnormal cold on metal and acid and tube, his radio had brought in the message! His latest improvement had worked! Already still other plans were dimly outlining themselves, plans for stretching the power of his tiny instrument, making its call reach farther and farther.
Other reports were radioed in. Some prospectors had found other pre-Cambrian rock mounds, but with slight gold value, for ridges of granite rose too close and precluded the possibility of the ore veins stretching to any distance. Here and there, though, more of the vastly rich finds were located, mapped, stake-claimed, and sample ore taken.
On this one trip, gold worth millions of dollars could be taken out. And that was but the beginning. In the next few years, these Arctic Barren Lands would see civilization brought into them because of man’s mastery of the flying ship, and his new power of speeding the spoken word through the air on the waves of radio. For this forward march of civilization into the waste places, first bases of operation would have to be laid. Great dirigibles would transport the gas, food, equipment up into the North. Planes would be flown in. Hangars would be set up. Spare engines, spare parts, together with landing gears for summer or winter, all would be stored away. Gasoline and oil would be put down in large caches. Gradually a combination airport and mining camp would spring into being, with huts, radio mast, machine shops and the rest of the equipment.
Bartlot’s expedition into the great northland had achieved success. And future success loomed ahead.
To Lee Renaud, it was all very wonderful and marvelous. Success written in large letters! And yet through it all, he felt a strange little throb of regret. This success had been too easy, too mechanical. He could not down an unwonted touch of sadness that soon there would be left no more surprises on this world of ours. No far, unknown, mysterious and frozen outposts for man to dream about. The White North conquered, and turned into factory ground!
But young Renaud was indulging too soon in boyish regrets over man’s conquest of the great white mysteries of the north country.
The frozen North still held some surprises for puny man who had dared push his machines of sound and of flight into her vast lonely spaces.
The North reached her icy fingers after the huge silver Nardak loaded with Arctic treasure and headed southward; she roared out her power in merciless blasts that tossed and whirled the great ship like some chip at the base of a cataract.