Lost In The Air | Page 4

some society backs you up
with somebody's money to the tune of fifty thousand or so; till you've
got together a group of scholars and seamen for the voyage. Then the
proper thing to do is to get caught in the ice, you are all but lost.
But--the ice clears at the crucial moment, you push on and on for two
years; you live on seal meat and whale blubber. Half your seamen get
scurvy and die; your dogs go mad; your Eskimos prove treacherous,
you shoot one or more. You take long sled journeys, you freeze, you
starve, you erect cairns at your farthest point north, or west, or
whatever it is. Then, if you're lucky, you lose your ship in an ice-jam
and walk home, ragged and emaciated. A man that does it that way gets
publicity; writes a book, gets to be somebody.
"You see," he went on, "we've sort of got in the way of thinking that it
takes a big expedition to do exploring. But, after all, what good does a
big expedition do? Peary didn't need one. He landed at the Pole with
two Eskimos and a negro. Well, now it ought to be easy as nothing for
two or three men in a plane, like that one of the Major's, to go to the
Pole from here. There's a fort and trading post on Great Bear Lake with,
maybe, a power-boat and gasoline. Then, if there happened to be a
whaler, or something, to give you a second lift, why there you are!"
"Sounds pretty good," admitted Bruce. "But nobody would ever
attempt it."
"Of course not," retorted Barney. "It's too simple."
The two following days the boys found themselves taking morning and
evening walks down the track to the airplane, which still lay piled in

sections by the track. They were surprised to see that no effort was
being made to assemble it. The reason for the delay was made clear to
them by an unexpected encounter on the evening of the second day.
Finding the Major pacing up and down before the machine, his slight
limp aggravated by his very evident irritation, they were about to pass
as if they didn't know there was a plane within a hundred miles, when
they were halted by the upraised hand of the Major.
Immediately both boys clicked heels and saluted. Then they felt foolish
for saluting in "civies."
"I see you are military all right," smiled the Major. "But how much do
you really know about airplanes?"
"Oh," said Barney, with exaggerated indifference, "Bruce, here, knows
a little and I know a little, too. Between us we might be able to
assemble your machine, if that's what you want." In spite of his heroic
attempts at self-control, his voice betrayed his eagerness. Truth was, his
fingers itched for pliers and wrenches.
"That's part of what I want, but not all," the Major said briskly. "I am
not an aviator myself, and my man has failed me at the last moment;
had a trifling smash which resulted in a dislocated thigh. Out of service
for the season. I need an aviator and a good one. He says there's only
one other not attached to military units that he could recommend--a
Canadian. But the plague of it is, the man can't be located."
"Might I ask the nature of your proposed trip?" asked Bruce--then bit
his lip a second too late.
"You might not" The Major snapped out the words. Then in a kindlier
tone, "My secret is not entirely my own. I can say, however, that it is
not an exceedingly long trip, nor a dangerous one, as aviation goes, but
it is an important one, and besides, if it comes out well, and I believe it
will, I might wish to go on a more hazardous journey. In that case, of
course, you can see I should wish a veteran pilot at the wheel and one
who will take a chance."

He turned to Bruce. "You are a Canadian, are you not?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then perhaps you can tell me of the whereabouts of this young
Canadian aviator. His name is--" the Major stopped to think. "His name
is--ah! I have it! It's Manning--Bruce Manning."
Bruce's jaw dropped in astonishment. He was too surprised to speak. It
was Barney who, almost shouting in his excitement, said:
"He's Bruce Manning, Major."
"What?" The Major stood back and looked at Bruce. "You? Oh come;
you are hardly more than a boy!"
"Yes," said Barney, "he's hardly more than a boy, but some of the best
flyers the Allies had were hardly more than boys. They were boys when
they went into it over there, but the boys who went up after the
Germans two or three times