CHAPTER XIX COASTING UP HILL
At very nearly that same hour a blue and gray airplane rose from thefrozen sea near Anchorage. Its passengers were only two, a dark-eyed,animated girl, and a stolid little Eskimo man. At the controls was SpeedSamson. You will not need a second guess as to who the passengers were,nor the nature of the cargo they carried. Little Miss Santa Claus, who inreal life was Mary Hughes, had her pack securely stowed away in thebaggage compartment of the plane. She was on her way.
Two hours later she found herself drawing her mackinaw closely about her.It was cold in the small cabin of their airplane, stinging cold. How highwere they in air? She did not know. How far north were they? She did notknow. She was not thinking of that so much, but of the whole strangeadventure.
It had taken courage to say "yes" at last. The postmaster in Anchoragehad listened to their story with interest, but he hesitated to give hisconsent to their airplane delivery of the packages of Christmas presentsto Cape Prince of Wales. "It is quite irregular," he had said, "and youmight never get there. It's a great white world you are going into. Thereare few landing fields."
"That is true," Speed had agreed. "However, I've never yet taken off forany destination and failed to arrive."
"And besides," Mary had put in, "if we don't take their presents, theywon't arrive until Fourth of July, when the boats come. And what's thegood of Christmas presents on the Fourth of July?"
"What indeed?" the gray-haired postmaster had smiled. Finally hesurrendered and gave his consent.
"And now--" Mary's brow wrinkled as her eyes took in the gathering grayaround them. "Now it is going to snow and we--" She did not finish.
Yes, they must land. But how? Where? Suddenly, seeming close enough to betouched, a mountain loomed before them.
With a wild whirl that took her breath, the airplane swung about to gospeeding along the side of that jagged ridge.
"It--it's beautiful--and terrible!" she whispered as she sat up to stareout of the window.
Ah, yes, it was all of that. Here was a wall towering and smooth like theside of a sky-scraper, and there a black shaft of rock rising like achurch spire, and here a shining river that, as their eyes becameaccustomed to it, turned into a broad glacier.
"The snow is falling faster. Where can we land? And if we can't land?"Terror gripped the girl's heart.
Of a sudden the plane once again swooped downward. She caught her breath.What had happened? Was their supply of gas running low? Were they to makea forced landing? Or had Speed's keen eye discovered some hidden valleyoffering a safe landing? She was soon enough to know.
Directly beneath them there appeared a broad stretch of white.
"A valley!" The girl heaved a sigh of relief.
The plane circled. She was glad they were to land now, for in the lasttwo hours they had made good progress. She was hungry. Soon they would bebrewing hot cocoa on the little gas stove, heating canned meat andsearching out big round crackers. They--
Once again her thoughts broke off. The plane had bumped. There wassomething strange about that bump, too solid or something.Bump-bump-bump, each bump was stranger than the last.
But now she sighed with relief, for the plane was coming to a standstill.Slow--slow, slower, stop.
She was preparing to open the door, when with a little cry of dismay shefell back among the blankets. A terrible thing was happening, the planewas gliding backward!
"What--what is it?" cried Mr. Il-ay-ok.
"We--we're on a sloping ledge. We're gliding down--down! We--" Mary'svoice ended in a gasp. Her heart stood still, then went racing on. Theplane was gliding faster, faster, ever faster, and back of them, notthirty seconds' glide, was a deep, dark abyss! They had landed half wayup the sloping mountainside.
"Dear God--"
Her prayer was answered before it was said. The motor thundered. Theirbackward gliding slowed. Slow, slower, stop. Then the reverse, the motorpicked up speed, and they glided forward faster, faster, faster. Then,with a startling lurch the plane swung to the right. Next instant theywere once more floating on God's good free air.
Then, perhaps because they had seen perils enough, the sun quite suddenlybroke from behind the clouds, the snowfall ceased, and they foundthemselves sailing high over a long, winding valley.
Two hours later, having sailed on through a clear sky for many miles, andfeeling the need for rest and food, they circled low over the frozensurface of a broad stream.
"Good!" said the Eskimo. "Now we eat."
"See!" Mary exclaimed, pointing off to the left, "there are three columnsof smoke rising up from the edge of the forest. People living aroundhere. Wonder what they are? White men, Eskimo, or Indians?"
"No Eskimo," said Mr. Il-ay-ok, "Too far, this place."
So they came down. Three times, like some lone wild duck searching awater hole, the plane circled low. The third time it dropped a littlelower. Bump-bump-bump, glide-glide-glide on their broad skis, and--aperfect landing? Almost. But what was this? The ship tilted sharply toone side. Mary, whose hand was on the door, was thrown out to fall flaton the snow-encrusted ice. For ten long seconds it seemed the airplanewould roll on over and crush her. But no, still tilted to a rakish angle,it came at last to rest.
What had happened? They were not long in finding the answer. Early in thewinter the river had frozen over, perhaps two feet thick. This ice hadcracked. Water had flowed through and flooded the ice. Once again itfroze over, but not thick enough. One ski of the plane had broken throughto settle down on the solid ice a foot below.
"Here we are, and here we stay." Speed's tone had a sad finality aboutit.
"But, Speed, can't we pry it out?" Mary asked hopefully.
"Impossible," the pilot shook his head. "Ten or twenty men might do it,but not you and I."
"Then it shall be ten or twenty men!" Mary exclaimed. "Christmas bellsmust ring."
"Wha--what do you mean?" the pilot stared at her.
"We saw smoke, didn't we?" she turned to the Eskimo.
"Yes," he nodded. "Three columns smoke."
"Whites or Indians?"
"Who knows?" said Mary. "And who cares? We must find them. They must helpus." She was ready for the trail.
And indeed there was need for haste, the airplane was freezing in. So,forgetting their hunger and their need for rest, they hurried away in thedirection of the three columns of smoke.
Soon they came upon a trail leading into the forest. In silence theyfollowed that trail. How still it was there in the forest! As asnow-bunting flew from twig to twig, Mary caught the flutter of his tinywings. A snowshoe rabbit, leaping from the trail, brought an unutteredcry to her lips. Then of a sudden a deep voice shattered that silence. Itsaid:
"How!"
Seeming to appear from nowhere, a six-foot Indian stood before them. Hewas not dressed in skins and feathers, but his dark face, straight blackhair, and large hawk-like nose told the story.
"How!" said Speed.
"Airplane come?" the Indian said.
"Yes, and we are in trouble. You must help us."
"Where you go?"
"Eskimo-land."
"Eskimo bad." The Indian's voice dropped, his dark face formed itselfinto a scowl. "Very bad, Eskimo. Long time 'go kill Indians--muchIndians."
"Yes, a long time ago," Speed agreed quietly. "Then came good white men.They told the Eskimo no kill. Now all the Eskimos are good. Tomorrownight is Christmas Eve. We are bringing them presents, these goodEskimos. We are in trouble. You must help us."
"Oh! Christmas?" The Indian's face lighted.
"We have twenty pounds of candy for your children," Mary encouraged.
"Oh, candy?" The Indian's face grew radiant. "Indian like candy, likemuch. I bring help, bring everyone. Come quick!" He trotted away.
Scarcely had they returned to the plane than the edge of the forestswarmed with Indians, little Indians, big Indians, men, women, andchildren, and all eage
r to help.
It was no time at all until that airplane ski was back on the top surfaceof the ice. Then, after presenting the gifts of candy and receiving afriendly farewell, the little party began taxiing down the river twomiles to a spot where there was a supply of gasoline, and where theymight pile into their cabin for a few winks of sleep.
Supper over, they tucked their blankets about them.
"In four hours," said Speed, "if the moon is out, we shall sail away.Tomorrow evening will be Christmas Eve, and we still have seven hundredmiles to go."
"Seven--seven hundred!" Mary exclaimed. "Can we make it?"
"If the sun and moon smile on us," Speed replied cheerfully.
Little wonder that Mary whispered a prayer for clear skies before shefell asleep.
Meanwhile three cute children, Margaret, Nellie, and Tom, the only whitechildren at far-off Cape Prince of Wales, were doing their best to makeup for the loss of their presents. The Christmas tree of willow branchesand a driftwood log had been set up. Behind closely drawn blinds, theyhad done their best to decorate it. Rustling willow leaves had beenbrightened by many feet of colored popcorn strings. Here and there a red,green or orange box hung. Safely shielded from dry leaves, twenty candlesshone. Common white candles they were, but who cared for that?
"It's grand!" exclaimed Margaret.
"Not half bad," Tom agreed.
"But just think what it might have been!" Nellie struggled to hold back atear.
Outside in the frosty night, little Kud-lucy and No-wad-luk, two littleEskimo children, were peeking through a crack not quite covered by ashade.
"Oh, good!" Kud-lucy danced up and down. "It's the Christmas tree afterall! And it's almost as bright as the sun!"
"But where are the little people who walk, talk, and go to sleep?" askedNo-wad-luk.
"Oh, they--" said Kud-lucy with a superior air, "they are walking. Theyare coming a long, long way. They will be here tomorrow night. You'llsee."
Would they? Would the moon look down and smile?