“He was indeed!” her father agreed.
One ray of hope cheered their lonely path. The gleam of gold along their trail seemed to grow brighter day by day.
Thus matters stood as Curlie Carson, with Jerry at his side, sailed away in the light of the morning sun, bound on his three days’ search for the “Gray Streak.”
CHAPTER XX
THE HUNCHBACK BOWMAN
Three days, coming to earth only for fuel and sleep, Curlie and Jerry skimmed the far horizon searching for some sign of the “Gray Streak.” The days were fair. Beneath them lay the earth, a blanket of white broken only by streaks of black where spruce and tamarack followed a narrow stream. Beyond, to the north, south, east and west, lay the gray rim of the horizon. Three times Curlie’s heart leaped at sight of a plane on that horizon. Each time he met with disappointment. A commercial plane bringing trappers in from the Barrens and two mineral hunters, they brought him no news of the ship he sought.
And then, on the third day at a time when he was feeling the urge of duty to turn back, the “Gray Streak” hove in sight.
What to do? To follow? To turn back? The thing must be decided on the instant. Official orders said, “Turn back.” Romance, adventure, the desire to avenge a fallen comrade, the common good of all those who had come to dwell in the North, urged him on.
Duty whispered.
The call of romance rang in his ears. Romance won.
“Jerry, we’re going after them.”