On a level plateau below the Kennecott mine, they spotted the long twin ski marks of a plane. There were two sets, one set almost parallel to the other.
“No doubt about it,” Parker said. “A plane landed here recently. And it took off again.” He brought the Norseman’s nose up and began climbing.
“But if they took off again, where did they go?” Sandy was sick with fear. The idea of his father lying badly injured—or worse—in the wreckage of a crashed plane terrified him. “If—if they had cracked up, the search planes would have found them by now, wouldn’t they?”
Parker chewed thoughtfully on his underlip. “I would think so. Unless they wandered outlandishly far off course. But there isn’t any reason why they should have. The last two days and nights have been perfect for flying.” Ominously, he added, “But we can’t discount that possibility altogether. There’s so much territory to cover even with an air search that a small plane might be missed. In Canada they insist that private planes follow well-traveled routes like the Alaska Highway instead of flying the beam, for that very reason. If you have to make a forced landing, there’s a better chance you’ll be found promptly.”
“Listen,” Sandy implored the pilot, “let’s land here and look around. Maybe we’ll find a clue or something to show where they went.”
Parker shrugged. “Sure, if it’ll make you feel any better. But if they were here, they definitely took off again.”
Parker landed the Norseman smoothly, cutting across the ski tracks of the other plane. He taxied to the far end of the clearing, turning her about in position for a take-off, then cut the engines. The plane settled heavily in the snow.
“Looks pretty deep out there,” Parker estimated. “We better dig out snowshoes from the baggage compartment.”
They had landed about a quarter of a mile away from the main building of the mine, and because of the boys’ inexperience on snowshoes it was a slow walk.
“I feel just like a duck,” Jerry grumbled as he brought up the rear, flopping along in the clumsy, webbed footgear. “Overgrown tennis rackets, that’s all they are.”