Curlie told him the story of the outlaw plane and the missing gas.
“That’s bad!” exclaimed the doctor. “Have to put a stop to that! Dangerous people who would leave some poor aviator to starve hundred miles from anywhere. Go after him!”
“I will if there’s a chance.”
“But now? Want a tow to town?”
Curlie looked at the tiny tractor, the smallest made, then at his great airplane. He laughed. “Seems a bit odd. Guess you could do it, though.”
“Sure could. Safest way, too. Could give you my gas. Not safe flying at night, though.
“Tell you what!” The doctor’s tone was kindly. “You roll up in your feather robe there in the cabin. I’ll tow you in. You’ll wake up in Resolution. You look like you needed sleep.”
“I’m asleep standing up just now! But you?”
“I’m O.K. We sleep all hours up here. Besides, you fellows have done a lot for us; brought the world to our door, that’s what you’ve done. Just as well do a little something for you.”
So it happened that Curlie arrived at Fort Resolution during the wee small hours of the night. After sleeping straight through until morning, he was as ready as ever for that which a fresh day might bring.