<h2 id="c20"><span class="small">CHAPTER XX</span> <br/>“WE HAVE MET WITH DISASTER”</h2>
<p>Curlie’s fingers, working rapidly yet with
trained precision, drew various articles from his
belt. A coil of fine wire, two long spools made
of some black substance, a pocket spirit lamp,
a miniature metal retort, three small balloons
made of a specially prepared elastic fiber; all
these and many more things appeared as if by
magic, and were spread out upon a blanket on
the cot.</p>
<p>After unwinding and winding again some
yards of fine copper wire, he snapped open the
metal-cased spirit lamp and a tiny flame appeared.
Attaching a balloon to the retort he
applied the flame to the body of the retort. At
once the balloon began to expand. Chemicals
already in the retort were assuming a gaseous
form.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[164]</div>
<p>Just here he found himself facing a difficulty;
the balloons were going to expand to a
size beyond that of the windows. With lightning-like
decision he climbed upon a chair and
thrust balloon, retort, spirit lamp and all out
of the window. There he held them all at arm’s
length.</p>
<p>“Might be seen, but I can’t help it,” he
muttered.</p>
<p>The balloon was tugging at his hand. When
the tug had grown strong he snapped on a rubber
band, withdrew the retort, tied the balloon
to a round of the chair and was at once busy
with a second balloon.</p>
<p>When all three balloons were bobbing about
outside the window he breathed a sigh of relief.</p>
<p>Attaching a spool of fine wire to a silk cord
which was tied to all three balloons, he allowed
the balloons to rise while he played out two
strands of wire. Having reached the second
spool he allowed the fine copper wire aerial
which he had thus made to rise with the balloons
until they had reached a height of three hundred
feet.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[165]</div>
<p>A fine, insulated copper wire ran from the
aerial to the ground. This he attached to an
instrument in his belt. Having tuned in on 200
he sat down calmly to repeat in a low tone at
regular intervals:</p>
<p>“S. O. S.—S. O. S.—S. O. S.”</p>
<p>It was the only way he had been able to think
of for letting the world know he was in trouble.</p>
<p>It brought results, for soon to his waiting
ears came a gruff grumble which resembled the
growl of a bear disturbed from his slumber:</p>
<p>“Hey! What’s the rumpus? What do you
want?”</p>
<p>“Who are you?” Curlie whispered back.</p>
<p>“Deputy Marshal McDonald of the U. S.
Station at Sinizols. Who the blazes are you?”</p>
<p>Slowly, distinctly, in a tense whisper Curlie
told of his predicament.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[166]</div>
<p>“I know ’em,” came in a roar through the
air. “They stole those deer. Don’t let ’em
know you know. When they come in let ’em
listen to me. Tell ’em who I am. They know
me. That’ll settle ’em. Tell ’em I’ll follow ’em
to the Pole if they don’t let you go. No—don’t
tell ’em. Let me. They don’t know about
radiophones. Just got mine last week. They’re
superstitious. It’ll knock ’em dead. Let me
tell ’em.”</p>
<p>“All right,” whispered Curlie, “keep your
batteries connected and stand by. I’ll see what
I can find out.</p>
<p>“Nothing like the little old radio,” he told
himself; “nothing at all like it when you’re in
a peck of trouble.”</p>
<p>Hanging his receiver on a nail he turned toward
the door. Placing his ear against a crack,
he listened.</p>
<p>To his surprise, he found that the men were
speaking English. “One of them is a half-breed,
maybe of another tribe, and doesn’t
understand the native language of the others,”
was his mental comment.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[167]</div>
<p>As he now and then caught a snatch of the
conversation, his blood ran cold. There could
be no mistaking the subject of their debate.
They were discussing the question of whether
or not, he, Curlie, should be killed. The half-breed
was standing out against it, while the
others insisted that it was the only safe thing
to do. So determined were they about it and
so earnest in their debate that at times their
voices rose almost to a shout.</p>
<p>“If you were to consult me in the matter,”
Curlie whispered to himself, “I would most
certainly agree with my old friend, the half-breed.”</p>
<p>Even as he joked with himself, the true significance
of his situation was borne more closely
in upon him. Here he was many miles from
human habitation in the heart of a wilderness.
Three men calmly debated his destruction. Two
against one; there could be no question of the
verdict.</p>
<p>Escape was impossible. The windows were
too small. The men were powerfully built;
there was no chance to fight his way to freedom.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[168]</div>
<p>There stood between him and death a slender
wire reaching up to two yet more slender ones
hanging in the sky. What if the gas escaped
from the balloons? What if a sudden gust of
wind sent them crashing down into the treetops
to tear and tangle his slender aerials? What if
the deputy at the other end should make some
mistake and be unable to listen in?</p>
<p>Little wonder that, as he stood there listening,
waiting, his face turned gray with anxiety and
fear.</p>
<p>In the meantime an important message had
come to Joe and Jennings as they listened in on
long wave lengths from their camp some ten
miles from the cabin. The message was from
the explorer, Munson.</p>
<p>“Munson’s Expedition - Munson - speaking,”
came the voice from the air. “We - have met -
with disaster. Dash to - Pole - abandoned. Ice -
began - piling - at - four - this morning. Many
supplies - much - gasoline - lost. Will - not -
have - enough - gasoline - to - bring - planes -
to - land. One - plane - smashed. Cannot -
bring - food - only - men. If - supporting -
party - can be - sent - from - due - north - of -
Flaxman - Island - it - may save - our lives.”</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[169]</div>
<p>Joe Marion listened to the message as it was
repeated three times, then turned a grave face
to Jennings.</p>
<p>“That’s serious,” he said after he had repeated
the message. “I might answer it but
what could I promise him?”</p>
<p>“You’d only give our position away to the
outlaw.”</p>
<p>“I might try to relay the message to others
who might help.”</p>
<p>“There’s no one near enough.”</p>
<p>“Then the only thing we can do is to try to
reach them with such supplies as we can carry.”</p>
<p>“Looks that way just now,” said Jennings,
wrinkling his brow. “We might think of something
later. How about the outlaw? Do we
get him first?”</p>
<p>“That’s the question. We’ll have to wait and
see. May get another message later. In the
meantime, let’s turn in early and get a start to-morrow
before daybreak. The importance of
our mission to the north has been greatly increased.”</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[170]</div>
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