Lost over Greenland

CHAPTER XIII

TREED

Slim Tyler and his companions ran as they had never run before to the trees that offered their only chance of safety. How slim that chance was, no one knew better than themselves.

Had their path been through the deep snow, they could never have made it. But the constant going to and fro of the pack had trodded down the snow and made the running easier.

By this time, the temporary panic into which the beasts had been thrown by the sudden sortie from the cabin had spent its force. The wolves began to realize that their enemies were no longer advancing to the attack, but were themselves racing for their lives.

With gleaming eyes and howls of fury, the brutes turned and rushed in the direction of the fugitives.

The latter had by this time reached their respective trees, and were shinning up them with an agility born of desperation.

Up they went like monkeys, spurred on by the certainty that if they slipped and fell they would be torn to pieces in an instant.

Slim's long legs and arms helped him most, and he was the first to find himself out of reach of the ravening jaws below. He clambered into the crotch of a limb and sat there panting.

Dick had been almost as quick. Jerry, however, was a fraction of a second slower, and that almost proved his undoing.

Two wolves leaped at him at the same time. The jaws of either one of them would certainly have clamped upon a foot that was within easy reach. But the two collided in mid-air and tumbled snarling to the ground. Before they could renew the attempt Jerry had caught at a lower limb and swung himself to safety.

For a few minutes none of the three young men spoke a word. They could not, if they had tried to. That frightful race for life, when every particle of nerve and muscle had been taxed to the utmost, had left them utterly exhausted.

It was Dick Mylert who at last broke the silence.

"I take off my hat to you, Slim," he said. "That plan of yours was the only possible one, and it worked. You've got a head on your shoulders, old scout."

"Nothing else but," affirmed Jerry. "That brain of Slim's is always on the job."

"We're not out of the woods yet," said Slim. "These fellows have got us treed, and there's no telling how long they'll keep us here."

"Lucky they can't climb," observed Jerry. "If they were bears or panthers now, they'd have us just where they wanted us. We'd be easy meat."

"I think it's about time our rifles got busy," remarked Slim, as he unslung his weapon. "Get yours ready, fellows, and when I give the word we'll let them have a volley."

"Good idea," approved Jerry, as he got his rifle in position. "At such short range it won't be possible to miss. But let's each pick out a separate one. We don't want to waste any ammunition."

At Slim's signal the three rifles cracked simultaneously. Each bullet found its target. Two of the wolves fell dead, and the third rolled over, mortally wounded.

"Once more before they scatter!" cried Slim, and again the rifles spoke, each claiming a victim.

It was too much for the pack. The survivors broke and ran for cover. How far they went the occupants of the trees did not know. They might be lurking in the vicinity or have gone for good.

"Guess that will hold them for a while!" exclaimed Jerry, with a sigh of relief as he settled back in the crotch of the limb. "They don't even stay to eat their dead comrades. They're beating it while the going's good."

"Likely enough," assented Slim. "Still, we'd better not bank on that too heavily. We'll wait a while and see what happens."

The cabin by this time was a mass of flames. The young men contemplated it with a shudder. It might have been their funeral pyre!

"It's serving one useful purpose, anyway," remarked Dick. "It's keeping us warm. We'd be freezing to death in these trees if it weren't for that."

In a little while the darkness began to lift. A pearly gray streaked the heavens in the east, growing brighter and brighter, until at last the sun peeped over the horizon and shot its slanting rays through the forest.

With the light came an upspringing of the young voyagers' spirits. The night of horror was over. Death had reached for them but had not quite clutched them. Now the day was here and their hearts exulted.

"How about it?" asked Dick. "I'm mighty grateful to this old tree, but I don't care for it as a permanent home."

"Same here," chimed in Jerry. "And maybe I'm not hungry."

The youths slid down from the trees. Now, if ever, would be the time for their enemies to show themselves. But no untoward sight or sound came from the surrounding forest. The wolves had gone!

Still exercising caution, the young adventurers made their way toward the plane.

"Gee!" exclaimed Jerry, as a thought struck him, "suppose the wolves have looted the food supplies in the plane."

"Heaven forbid!" exclaimed Dick fervently. "Still, it's possible. There was nothing to prevent them."

Apprehension quickened their steps, until finally they were running at full speed in the direction of the plane. If any such disaster had happened, it would mean a torturing delay in their search for Dave Boyd and his party. They would have to return to civilization, stock up, and start off again. The thought was intolerable.

Slim Tyler reached the plane first and jumped aboard. A glance sufficed.

"Glory hallelujah!" he cried. "Nothing touched! Everything all right!"

"Bully!" jubilated Jerry. "Break out that grub. Here's one wolf that's going to get busy. And how!"

CHAPTER XIV

A CLOSE CALL

The sky voyagers broke out the supplies and fell to with a will, their appetites whetted by their long sojourn in the cold air.

The snow had stopped and the weather had cleared, although there was a cutting wind from the northwest.

"The sooner we get going the better," declared Slim Tyler, on the conclusion of their meal. "The end of this day, if things go well, ought to find us pretty close to Greenland."

"You're going to find it some job taking off from here," observed Jerry, scanning the small area of the lake with anxious eyes. "It was hard enough making a landing, but, take it from me, it will be a mighty sight harder getting this bird into the air."

Slim Tyler's eyes swept round the borders of the lake.

At one place there was a space about a hundred and fifty feet in width that was free from trees. There was a quantity of underbrush, but in that cold region it had not grown thickly and much of it had been trampled down by animals coming to the lake to drink.

"That gives us a hint as to the best way out," said Slim. "It won't take more than an hour's work with knives and axes to make it fairly level for the plane. We'll trundle the Hope in there as far as we can and then make our start. By the time we get back to the lake she'll be going pretty fast, and I think we can lift her before she gets to the further shore."

"Perhaps," assented Jerry dubiously. "Even at that it's going to be a tight squeeze."

"I know it," admitted Slim. "But it's the only way out and I think we've got to take the chance."

The young airmen got out their implements and set to work lustily. But the task was harder than they had anticipated, and it was a good two hours before the rude runway was in shape.

They hauled the Hope to the farthest possible limit, adjusted their goggles, and Slim and Dick climbed into the cockpit.

"Give her a whirl, Jerry," directed Slim, as his hand settled on the controls.

Jerry started the propellers and the engine began to roar. Then Jerry jumped on board and the plane started down the improvised runway.

By the time it reached the edge of the frozen lake it had attained a fair rate of speed, but not as much as the young pilot had hoped for.

He knew he faced two dangers. One was that the ice of the lake might crack and let them down. The other was that, despite his utmost efforts, he might not be able to clear the trees on the further side.

On he went and on, until he was nearly in the center of the lake. The ice still held, though it was cracking ominously.

The Hope quivered, lifted, and rebounded. Then she definitely rose into the air and darted toward the trees.

Tall trees they were, veritable forest giants, and Slim Tyler's heart skipped a beat as he saw how fast they seemed to be rushing toward him.

Could he clear them? Or would he smash?

If he struck, the plane would fall to the earth a crumpled mass, and what would happen to its occupants the pilots did not dare think.

Nearer and nearer!

Slim Tyler's knuckles were white as he gripped the controls, his heart was beating fast, but his brain was cool and his nerves were steel.

The Hope was shooting now at the sharpest of angles toward the skies. It seemed almost as though she were rearing upright in the air like a frightened horse.

"He'll never do it," whispered Dick Mylert to Jerry.

"Yes, he will," Jerry whispered back. "You don't know Slim Tyler."

"Even he can't do miracles," murmured Dick.

"No," admitted Jerry. "But he can come mighty close to doing them."

Nearer and nearer! Higher and higher!

Then with a roar of her motors the Hope rushed over the tree tops, so close that the highest tips of the branches grazed the wheels.

"Great Scott he's done it!" cried Dick jubilantly.

"What did I tell you?" Jerry reminded him.

Slim Tyler kept the airplane whizzing upward until he had reached an altitude of about two thousand feet. Then he brought her to an even keel and turned around with a grin to his companions.

"You can't complain that you're not getting any excitement on this trip," he said.

"That's too weak a word for it," returned Dick. "My hair was fairly standing on end."

"Wonderful work, Slim," commended Jerry. "You've got this plane so that it'll eat out of your hand."

"I wouldn't have given a thin dime for our chances," avowed Mylert. "I was already seeing the headlines, 'Tyler Relief Expedition Wrecked in a Canadian Forest'."

"Well, a miss is as good as a mile," declared the young pilot. "Our time hasn't come yet."

He turned the nose of the Hope toward the north and gradually eased her into three-quarter throttle, keeping her there as a rule, though at times he threw her into full for short distances.

With every hundred miles she reeled off the weather grew colder. They were approaching the regions of almost perpetual ice and snow. The ground had put on its winter garments and the soil was completely hidden from sight.

"We'll have to take off the wheels now and put on the skis," observed Slim. "I'd have done it this morning before we started, but I wasn't sure that the ground would be wholly covered with snow. It's clear now that it will be that way from this time on, and the sooner we get the runners on the better. We'll wait, though, till late afternoon, for I want to take advantage of this good weather to get as far on our way as possible."

The Hope clove its way through the air, fairly eating up space. The motors were working beautifully, and Slim Tyler's heart sang with exultation.

Dick slept peacefully, wrapped in his furs, tired out by the ceaseless vigil of the night before. Slim and Jerry also felt the strain, and they relieved each other at the controls at two hour intervals, so that each could catch up on sleep.

"Time now to think of putting on the skis," judged the young leader of the expedition, as the afternoon was waning. "Country seems pretty flat here, and we oughtn't to have much trouble in finding a place to come down. Suppose you boys get out your field glasses and pick out a good spot for landing."

Dick and Jerry applied themselves to the task, but for some time without result.

"I see something that hits me right," Jerry said at length. "Looks almost as level as a floor. Look! Over there a little to the right!"

"Not bad," agreed Slim, after a little scrutiny. "I'll get down a little and we'll take a squint at it at close quarters."

He lowered the Hope to within three hundred feet of the ground. Closer examination confirmed the favorable first impression, and Slim came down to an easy landing.

They jumped out, glad to stretch their cramped limbs. Not far off was a patch of woodland, but in all other directions what seemed to be a measureless expanse stretched out as far as the eye could reach.

"Bet there isn't a living creature besides ourselves within a hundred miles," remarked Dick. "Hello, what's this?" and he stooped to pick up something that was half buried in snow.

"By the great horn spoon!" he cried. "A newspaper—or a part of one! How on earth did it ever get up in this desolate spot?"

Slim and Jerry crowded around him as he smoothed out the crumpled, snow-encrusted sheet.

"Look at the date line!" cried Slim. "The seventeenth! It was the eighteenth when Dave Boyd started on his trip. By Jove, fellows, I see it now! Dave or some member of his party had this paper in his pocket when he left North Elmwood. I'll bet a dollar to a nickel that Dave Boyd camped on this very spot on his way to Greenland!"

CHAPTER XV

SINGING ARROWS

The young voyagers looked at each other with amazement in their eyes. It seemed wholly likely that Slim Tyler's conjecture was true.

Travelers in this region, by air or otherwise, were extremely few. No other expedition in this part of the world was known to be in progress. And the date line, coinciding so closely with Dave Boyd's departure on his trip, deepened their confidence in their conclusions.

"It's almost like a message from him," said Jerry, with a touch of awe in his tone.

"Don't get superstitious, Jerry," laughed Dick.

"Of course," remarked Slim, "it doesn't prove that Dave actually landed here. The paper may have been dropped or blown from the plane. But that the Flying Cloud at least passed over this place, I feel sure. We know that this was the general direction he intended to take when he started."

"Seems like a good omen," remarked Jerry. "Makes me feel, somehow, as though we'd got in touch with Dave."

"Same here," agreed Slim. "But now let's get busy with those skis."

They brought the long runners out of the plane together with the necessary tools and set busily to work.

They had taken off one of the wheels and were applying themselves to the other, when Jerry felt a rush of wind over his face, accompanied by a slight stinging sensation in his ear.

"Jehoshaphat! what's that?" he exclaimed, as he straightened up. "Felt as though a bee had stung me."

"You're loco," replied Dick, without looking up. "Bees don't go gadding about in this kind of weather."

"Why, Jerry!" cried Slim, in some alarm, "your ear is bleeding."

"So it is," assented Jerry, as he put his finger to the injured member and brought it away reddened. "Now what in thunder——"

He stopped short and gazed transfixed at the side of the plane.

An arrow was sticking there, still quivering!

"Indians!" yelled the young leader, as he recovered from his momentary stupefaction. "To the other side of the plane, fellows! Quick!"

They darted to the side that was farthest from the woods and crouched in the shelter of the Hope.

They were not a moment too soon, for as they did so the air became full of hissing sounds, and they could hear the soft thud of arrows as they buried themselves in the wood.

This was something that had never entered into their calculations. Animal foes they had counted on as a possibility, more than that, a probability. But human enemies, no!

"I never thought of there being Indians in Canada," muttered Dick. "I'd always associated them with the Wild West in our own country."

"There are a few scattered tribes in Canada in the upper part," replied Slim. "But I never thought of them as dangerous."

"I'll say they are," grumbled Jerry, as he touched gingerly his injured ear. "Here's the proof of it. And they can shoot pretty straight, if you ask me."

"Wonder if they'll rush us," observed Dick.

"Probably not till dark, anyway," conjectured Slim. "They won't take any needless risks as long as they think they can pick us off from the shelter of the woods."

The voyagers peered over the side of the plane toward the patch of woods. Not a sound came from there. Not a figure could be seen. If it had not been for those ominous arrows sticking in the side of the plane, it might well have seemed that the young adventurers had that whole region to themselves.

Stealthily, Slim Tyler crept over the side of the plane, got his own rifle and handed other weapons to his companions.

"Might as well do a little shooting on our own account," he said grimly, as he rejoined his mates. "We'll send a little volley into the woods just to let those bozos know we're armed."

At his signal all fired at once, and their bullets went whistling among the trees. No cry of pain indicated that any of them had found a mark. A silence as of death reigned over the darkening woods.

"A little bashful about showing themselves," remarked Dick.

"They're waiting patiently," replied Slim. "They count on the dark as their best friend. Then they'll try to put us out of business and loot the plane."

"If we hadn't taken that wheel off," groaned Jerry, "we could start the old bus going and give these fellows the merry ha ha."

"Lucky there's only one off," replied Slim. "We can put that on in a jiffy. The skis will have to wait till another time. Here's my plan, fellows. As soon as it's too dark for them to see us, we'll slip around to the other side and adjust the wheel. It won't take us more than ten minutes, if we hurry. Of course more arrows may come, but they'll be shot more or less at a venture and we've got to take our chance. In the meantime we'll send them a volley every once in a while, just to warn them that, if they get anything from us, they'll have to fight for it."

They followed this suggestion, shooting at intervals into the woods without eliciting any response from their unseen enemies.

When dusk at last had deepened into dark, the three slipped silently to the other side of the plane and worked with desperate energy at replacing the wheel.

It was ticklish work, for at any moment a host of arrows might come with their messages of death.

It was done at last, however, and Slim and Dick climbed into the plane.

Jerry gave the propeller a whirl and dashed for the cockpit.

At the instant a horde of savages, with blood-curdling yells, broke from the shadow of the woods!

CHAPTER XVI

IN DEADLY PERIL

"Lie low, fellows!" shouted Slim Tyler as the engine broke into a roar.

A cloud of arrows that came from the bows of the natives emphasized the injunction. Some buried themselves in the side of the plane. Others whizzed over the heads of the three young aviators, crouched low behind their defenses. Had they not been as quick in ducking as they had, some or all of them would certainly have been struck.

One of the fleetest of the natives reached the side of the plane before it had fully gathered speed. He grabbed the edge and tried to climb in.

Dick's fist launched out and caught the fellow a tremendous blow in the jaw. The clutching hands loosened and the savage fell back to the ground.

"Plucky beggar!" muttered Dick. "But I'll bet he's lost a few of his teeth."

The Hope was now in full swing and zooming down the field at high speed.

"Let's hope she doesn't strike a stump or something," muttered Jerry between his teeth. "I'd not like to be dumped into that yelling crowd."

"Here we go," said the young pilot as he lifted the plane into the air. "They'd have to have wings to get at us now."

Up and up they soared until they were safely beyond the reach of the arrows. Only then did they dare to breathe.

"I'd like to take a pot shot at them," muttered Jerry vengefully. "Look at the way they're all crowded together down there! We couldn't help winging some of them."

"I don't think we'd better," counseled the leader of the expedition. "Hardly seems sporting when the poor beggars haven't a chance to get back at us."

"They gave me a lot of a chance, didn't they, when they nicked my ear with that arrow?" grumbled Jerry. "Anyway, let's give them a scare and send down a few flares."

"That's all right," assented Slim, and a moment later four flares went hissing down into the crowd.

The dazzling lights illumined the scene and showed the fright on the throng of dark faces as the mysterious flares neared the ground. To their untutored minds, it seemed, perhaps, that the white men had plucked the stars from the skies and were hurling them down upon them.

With wild yells of terror, the Indians broke and scurried like rabbits to the shelter of the woods.

"Got that much out of them, anyway," chuckled Jerry, in high glee. "Doesn't pay for my ear, but it helps."

In a few minutes they had left the ill-omened camping place far behind and the Hope was roaring swiftly toward the north.

Jerry got out the medicine kit and Dick bathed the wounded ear in iodine. Luckily, the wound was slight, although it was painful enough to keep Jerry constantly reminded of his narrow escape.

"No monotony on this trip, anyway," he remarked later, when an abundant meal had put him and his companions at peace with the world. "First wolves, then Indians. Fate is certainly handing us some heavy jolts. I wonder what will come next?"

"For goodness' sake, don't start worrying about that," Dick Mylert adjured him. "It'll be bad enough when it comes. I'm so thankful now that my scalp isn't drying at some Indian's belt that I'm not inclined to kick about anything—especially anything that hasn't yet happened."

"What about the skis, Slim?" asked Jerry. "It's too bad we couldn't have finished that job while we were about it."

"It sure was," agreed Slim Tyler thoughtfully. "What makes it worse is that we're getting near the coast and will soon be over the water. Then it will be too late to change to the skis before we reach Greenland. Of course we could wait at the coast till morning before we make another attempt to put on the skis. That is, if we think that it's got to be done by daylight. But if you fellows are game, we'll take a chance and go down now and do it as well as we can in the dark. Only this time," he added, with a grin, "we'll choose a place where there are no woods in sight."

"You bet your life!" exclaimed Mylert, with fervor.

"That goes for me, too," echoed Jerry, instinctively reaching for his ear. "But how are we going to find a landing place in the dark?"

"It won't be dark long," replied the young pilot. "The moon will rise in about an hour. I'll fly low and we'll try to find some level place. When we think we've found it, we'll drop some flares to make sure it's all right, and if it is I'll go down."

"Rather risky, don't you think?" asked Dick dubiously.

"A little, but not so much," replied Slim. "You see it's this way. I judge that we'll be at the coast about midnight. Now, if we have to hover about there till daylight to fix the skis, we'll have lost half a dozen hours or so, while if we have them fixed by the time we reach the water, we can keep right on and fly all night. Time is so precious now that I don't want to lose an hour of it that I don't have to. Savvy?"

"I guess you're right," conceded Dick. "Anyway, I'm just a passenger and I don't want to do any back seat driving. Anything that you decide on goes with me."

An hour passed and the moon arose and flooded all that wild world with glory.

Under any other circumstances the flyers would have reveled in the beauty of the scene. But just now the moon was to be admired, not for itself, but for the help that it might be to them in discovering a suitable landing field.

They descried such a place half an hour later. Like all the district over which they had been flying that day, it was covered with a hard crust of snow that had been so beaten upon by the bitter winds that it was packed almost to the consistency of ice.

Taking every precaution, Slim Tyler let the plane down to a successful landing. The moon shining on the snow made everything almost as light as day. There were no woods within sight and nothing else that could possibly shelter an enemy.

Under these conditions the changes they had in mind were easily made. Skis were substituted for the wheels and the latter carefully packed away for future use. In less than an hour everything was in readiness for the resumption of their flight.

They were delighted to find that the skis worked to a charm. When the young pilot started the engines the plane darted along on the runners like a thing of life and soared into the air like a bird.

It had been more or less in the nature of an experiment, for neither Slim Tyler nor Jerry Marbury had ever used skis before. So they were relieved beyond measure when the first test proved successful.

For in the place to which they were going there was practically nothing but ice. The whole of Greenland, except in some strips along the shore and certain other places where weather conditions were unusual, was covered with a solid ice cap. Wheels would be at a discount in that frozen region. Skis were almost indispensable.

So that it was with a feeling of intense elation that they flew on over the desolate wastes of Labrador and approached the shore of Davis Straits, on the other side of which lay Greenland.

Slim gave the Hope full throttle, and at about midnight, as he had predicted, the water came in view.

The flyers heard it before they saw it. A thunderous roar blended with the song of the motors. It was the roar of breakers dashing against the rocky shores.

"How does it sound, fellows?" asked Slim, turning toward his companions with a grin.

"Rather fierce, if you ask me," returned Dick.

"As though it were daring us to come on," put in Jerry.

"Well, we're going to accept the challenge," declared Slim, as the raging waves came into full view. "Say good-by to the land, fellows, for it will be a long time before you see land again."

There was a curious feeling in the hearts of all as they said farewell to the American continental mass. Land meant home. It was associated with every experience of their lives. It was secure, stable, solid. While flying over it they had the comfortable feeling that, if anything went wrong, they could come down to safety.

But the ocean, cruel, remorseless, uncaring for human life or pain—that was different.

Now, if they came down, they would come down to death!

CHAPTER XVII

AT RISK OF LIFE

Though the three young adventurers fully appreciated the chances they were taking, their hearts were high and their souls undaunted. They had counted the cost before they had embarked on their enterprise, and they were willing to pay that cost, if an unkind fate should demand it of them.

On they went over the wild sea, flying at an altitude of three thousand feet.

An hour of this, and Slim Tyler relinquished the control of the plane to Jerry Marbury, while he snatched a little sleep.

"How is she going?" he asked, a couple of hours later, when he came to relieve his companion.

"Not very well," returned Jerry uneasily. "She doesn't answer as she should. I was just going to call you and have a talk about it. I'm afraid there's something wrong with the stabilizer."

"The stabilizer!" exclaimed Slim quickly, for all the meaning of that disaster flashed upon him at once. "Here, give me the control and let me get the feel of it."

It took him less than a minute to realize that Jerry was right. The Hope was tossing and bucking like a balky mule.

"I know what it must be," declared Slim, after he had run over in his mind all possible reasons for the Hope's eccentric behavior. "The streamlined cable brace on the right side of the stabilizer has parted."

"Parted!"

To an experienced airman like Jerry, the word was like the crack of doom!

The young aviators looked at each other. The blood had fled from their faces.

"Unless we fix it, we're goners," declared Slim.

"Of course we are," agreed Jerry. "But how are we going to fix it unless we can come down?"

"I don't know how, but we've got to," affirmed Slim.

"I don't believe it's ever been done on an airplane while in flight," groaned Jerry. "Looks to me, Slim, as though the jig is up."

"What's all the shooting about?" asked a sleepy voice, and Dick Mylert, roused by the excited conversation, came forward and joined the pair.

"Plenty," returned Slim. "The stabilizer brace has given way."

"And that means?"

"It means that unless we fix it promptly we'll get a ducking," replied Slim grimly. "I can't explain it to you now. Let me think."

He needed to think and think quickly, for none knew better than he what was meant by the parting of that brace that put the rudder in jeopardy.

One plan after another chased itself through his mind, to be rejected as impossible.

At last he fastened on one that offered some glimmer of hope, though it was beset with manifold dangers.

"Dick," he commanded, "you'll find some rosin in a bag back there. Break it out."

Mylert hastened to obey.

Slim turned to Jerry.

"Get me a spare brace, Jerry," he directed. "You know where we keep them."

In a minute Jerry was back with the brace, a steel strut about a quarter of an inch thick, an inch wide, and about three feet long.

"Here it is," he said. "What's your plan, Slim?"

"We're going to smash the rear bulkhead," explained Slim. "Then I'm going to crawl to the tail of the ship through the fuselage. I'll take a sharp knife along and slit the fabric on the top of the fuselage. Then I'm going to push my head and shoulders through the hole, so that I can have my arms free."

"But you'll be in the full blast of the propellers!" cried Jerry, aghast. "It will tear you to pieces!"

"I guess not," replied Slim. "Anyhow, I've got to take the chance."

"Let me do it," pleaded Jerry. "My life isn't worth any more than yours. Why should you take all the risk?"

"No," said Slim. "I've got the whole thing mapped out in my mind. I won't be blown away. That's one reason why I asked Dick for the rosin. I'm going to spread it over my suit, so as to give a better grip on the fabric. You stay at the controls, Jerry, and try to keep this bucking broncho steady until I've finished my work. In a little while we'll either be riding pretty or we'll be at the bottom of the sea."

He rubbed his clothes with the rosin that Dick brought, and with the latter's aid broke through the rear bulkhead and slit the fabric until his head and shoulders could emerge.

It seemed that the blast of the propellers, as he came into its full force, would blow his head from his shoulders.

It would have been a delicate piece of work to do, even under the most tranquil circumstances. In this wild roaring and tumult it seemed impossible.

One end of the brace was bent into a hook with a sharpened point. A hole had been drilled below the point of the hook. In the shaft of the strut opposite the hole in the hook was a corresponding hole. At the end of the shaft was another hole, larger than either of the other two.

Slim pulled the hook of the strut through the fabric of the stabilizer so as to hook the outside tubing, which was just on the other side of an interior steel brace.

Then he put a bolt through the two holes and screwed the bolt tightly into place. That proceeding clamped the strut permanently to the stabilizer.

With a heavy pair of pliers he drew the end of the broken brace through the big hole in the end of the shaft of the new strut as tautly as he could. Then he lashed it securely.

It had been a fearful task that would have daunted a lesser soul. The blast of the propeller was tearing at him, taking away his breath, searing his eyes, threatening at any moment to wrench him from his precarious hold and hurl him into the raging waters beneath. His lungs were laboring to the bursting point with his terrible exertions. His hands were so numbed by wind and cold that they had scarcely any feeling left in them.

But he had triumphed! He had saved the plane! The brace was not quite as rigid as he would have liked to have it, but amply so for their present needs.

That it was working well was evident from the fact that the bucking and balking of the plane had ceased. She was once more answering her helm without protest.

Breathing a huge sigh of relief, Slim Tyler drew back into the fuselage, got back into the cabin through the broken bulkhead, and made his way to the control.

Jerry fairly hugged Slim in his delight at his safe return.

"You did it, old boy! You did it!" he exclaimed. "It was a hundred to one chance, but you won! A thing I don't think has ever been done before by a flyer—repairing a stabilizer while in flight. Didn't I tell you this fellow could work miracles?" he demanded of Dick Mylert.

"I'm beginning to believe you," replied the young newspaper man warmly. "Gee, my heart was in my mouth while you were out there, Slim! It looked as though you were up against a hopeless task."

"Nothing is hopeless, unless we admit it is," replied the young pilot. "I'll take a turn now at the controls while you boys finish the job. You'll need a curved needle to sew up the slit in the fabric and then you can repair the broken bulkhead. That will make everything O.K."

Jerry and Dick set to work busily and soon had the repairs made, pending a more complete job when they should be able to land.

It was bitterly cold, and grew still colder as they progressed toward the Greenland coast.

Below them the sea was dotted here and there with huge icebergs, great masses that had broken off from the ice cap and were now floating in stately majesty toward the warmer waters of the south.

With the moonlight reflected from a thousand jagged points, the bergs resembled gigantic diamonds. It was like a scene from fairyland.

But the aviators had not long to enjoy it, for great masses of clouds gradually obscured the moon, and gusts of wind, growing ever fiercer in intensity, presaged a coming storm.

"Something brewing," remarked Jerry. "Looks as if——"

The sentence was never finished.

A terrific blast struck the plane with such irresistible force that it turned turtle!

CHAPTER XVIII

IN THE GRIP OF THE STORM

The attack of the wind was sudden beyond all precedent in the experience of the young aviators.

It was as though the demon of the storm had counted on surprise and had hoped to accomplish the destruction of the Hope at one blow before the aviators could rally their confused senses to combat it.

One moment the Hope had been flying on an even keel. The next, it had completely reversed its position, and the occupants found themselves flying head downward.

The straps that held Slim Tyler in the pilot's seat stretched and strained, but did not break.

His comrades were not so fortunate. Jerry Marbury was for a moment literally standing on his head. Then he fell down heavily, grasping an iron bolt, to which he clung with the tenacity of a drowning man.

Dick Mylert was flung out of the plane and would have gone hurtling to the waters beneath if his hands, flung about wildly, had not grasped the side of the fuselage. There he hung suspended while the wind tore at him, trying to loosen his grasp.

"Hold on, Dick! For the love of Pete, hold on!" screamed Jerry, as his senses cleared and he saw his companion's frightful plight.

He crawled close to his imperiled comrade, clutched his wrists, and by a tremendous effort pulled him in to safety.

Slim Tyler was fighting desperately to regain control of the plane and bring her right side up. It was a herculean task, as she had already started on her downward plunge.

A lesser pilot would have lost his head and his doom would have been sealed then and there. But Slim Tyler kept his nerve, and by consummate craftsmanship finally brought the plane to its normal position.

The first onslaught had been met and repelled, but others followed, and the aviators found themselves in a wild turmoil of the elements. The wind was blowing with all the force of a tornado. It beat and tore at the plane as though it would rend it into shreds. The howling of the storm drowned the roar of the motors. It was a terrible demonstration of nature's unbridled fury.

Yet in that awful welter, Slim Tyler's hand at the control never faltered. His pulses were steady, his heart undaunted.

With masterly skill he jockeyed the plane, driving here, banking there, trying to present the least vulnerable surface to the blow, making the wind at times his ally, again challenging it to do its worst.

He darted upward in an attempt to find a quieter strata of air, but found that he gained nothing by the change. Then he sought lower altitudes, coming down at times so close to the water that he heard its roar and was sprinkled with its spray.

But wherever he went it was the same. The gale was out to find a victim, and it seemed to exercise a demoniac cunning in thwarting every effort of its prey to escape.

To keep on their projected path was of course out of the question. All that mattered now was saving the plane and with it their own lives. If they perished, the course did not matter. If they survived, they could easily find it again.

Over that great angry waste of waters, the Hope flew on, a mere speck in immensity, while its imperiled occupants never knew what moment might be their last.

For one thing Slim Tyler was grateful. He had repaired the stabilizer before the storm started. If he had been delayed until the gale was upon them, nothing on earth could have saved them from certain death.

Luckily, there was no lightning. They were too far north for that, and thus they were spared one peril that had so nearly brought to naught the journey to South America.

For more than an hour the storm raged with the greatest fury. Then it began to subside. It died away in fitful gusts that came at longer and longer intervals and finally ceased altogether, although the agitated air rocked up and down like the waves of the ocean after a gale.

Slim Tyler's tense grip on the controls relaxed. Despite the bitter cold, he was drenched with perspiration from the terrific strain he had undergone.

"I've been on many a ship in a gale," breathed Dick Mylert, "but I've never been shaken up and tossed about like this. I feel like a scrambled egg."

"You brought her through wonderfully, Slim," said Jerry, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "Where do you think we are?"

"Search me," replied Slim. "I'll try to figure it out as soon as I can get my breath. If those clouds break away and let the moon shine through again, you can get out your instruments and we'll check up on the figures. I've tried to keep her in an easterly direction as far as I could, but in this hullabaloo she's been dancing round to all points of the compass."

But the clouds obstinately refused to break away. They had contained more than wind. Half an hour had not elapsed before snow began to fall.

The storm came first in scattered flakes, then in a thick cloud, then in blinding sheets. It plastered the windows of the cockpit. It lay in a heavy blanket on the body of the plane. It coated the broad wings, weighing them down.

Every additional ounce that weighted the plane weighted Slim Tyler's heart as well.

For the plane was losing buoyancy and sinking lower and lower with every ten minutes that passed.

She was like an overloaded ship, wallowing in the trough of the sea when she ought to have been cleaving her way through it.

Slim banked and dived and rose and sideslipped in the effort to shake the snow from the wings. Had it been of the powdery variety, he might have succeeded. But it was wet and stuck to the wings like glue.

"Going through a good many stunts, aren't you, Slim?" asked Dick Mylert lightly. He had no idea of the gravity of the situation. "What is this, anyway? A flying circus?"

"Something far different from that," answered Slim soberly. "The wings are carrying so much snow that the Hope is getting too tired to fly."

"Is that so?" exclaimed the reporter, his airy manner vanishing instantly. "Does that mean that there's danger of her going down?"

"Exactly that, if the snow keeps falling," affirmed Slim. "I have all I can do now to keep her aloft. There must be half a ton of snow on her wings now. And half a ton is a thousand pounds."

"If this keeps up, we'll have to throw some of our cargo overboard to lighten the plane," declared Jerry.

"Possibly," admitted Slim. "Spare parts, tools, even food, if necessary. Lucky if we keep our shirts. But even that is better than drowning."

As if to emphasize that sinister word, the roar of the waves beneath grew louder.

CHAPTER XIX

THREATENING DOOM

Slim Tyler's quick ears caught an unusual note in that more boisterous roar of the angry waves. Hope sprang anew in his heart.

"Notice anything different in this sound from that we've been hearing for the last hour?" he asked his companions.

They listened intently.

"Sounds to me like breakers dashing on the shore!" exclaimed Jerry Marbury, and the newspaper man nodded assent.

"That's what it is, I'll bet!" cried Slim. "If that's true, fellows, it means that we have reached the Greenland coast!"

The words went through them all like an electric shock.

"Thank goodness!" ejaculated Dick Mylert fervently.

"Glory hallelujah!" cried Jerry.

"We don't want to crow too soon," the young pilot cautioned his companions. "Break out those flares, Jerry, and throw a couple of them down."

Jerry obeyed, and the flares went down, leaving fiery trails like the tails of comets in their wake.

"After all," observed Dick dubiously, "what good will they do? The wall of snow shuts out our sight. We can't see whether they fall on the land or the sea."

"Wait," advised Slim.

Perhaps twenty seconds elapsed before the luminous glows left by the passing of the flares disappeared.

"Land!" exclaimed Slim joyously.

"Land!" echoed Jerry with equal jubilation.

"How do you know?" asked Dick wonderingly.

"If water were beneath us, the flares would have been extinguished immediately," explained Slim Tyler. "As it is, you notice that they continued to burn. We've reached Greenland all right. Now if we have to come down, as we probably shall, we'll find land beneath us."

"Or ice," suggested Jerry.

"The same thing as far as making a landing is concerned," replied the young pilot. "As a matter of fact, I shouldn't be surprised if we never see the ground itself as long as we're in Greenland. With a few exceptions, it's a solid sheet of ice from end to end."

"Seems to me it isn't snowing as hard as it was," observed Dick.

"It isn't," affirmed Slim. "If it will only stop altogether now, I can probably keep the plane afloat. But with much more weight on her wings she'll go down as sure as shooting."

Presently the snow stopped falling, and with its cessation an immense load was lifted from Slim Tyler's spirits. The Hope still labored heavily, but she was more or less manageable.

It was imperative that they should make a landing as soon as possible. They were in a mountainous region, and if they should suddenly come face to face with a high peak there would be no way of making the heavily weighted plane rise above it.

It was growing lighter now, and the occupants of the plane strained their eyes to see something of their surroundings.

They had left the sea far behind and found themselves flying over a high plateau, sheathed in ice and destitute of all signs of human habitation. It was many miles in area, rugged and uneven and hemmed in on every side by mountains.

At intervals it was cut through by gorges hundreds of feet in depth, with steep, precipitous sides. There were no trees anywhere to break the landscape. The whole scene was one of dreary desolation, and it sent a chill through the veins of the adventurers.

"Nice place to live in—I don't think," muttered Jerry.

"Not many human beings do live in it," replied Slim; "about twelve or fifteen thousand altogether and most of them Eskimos at that, in the milder places scattered along the coast."

"Only fit for polar bears," commented Dick.

"There are plenty of them," replied Slim. "Perhaps we'll get a hack at them before we're through. Or perhaps," he added, with a grin, "it will be they that take a hack at us. Gosh, what made that Dave Boyd expedition come to such a rotten place?"

The sun had risen now, and its rays sent back a thousand dazzling reflections from the ice.

"Keep your eyes peeled for a landing place," Slim adjured his companions. "This bird is trying to come down of her own accord, and I'm having all I can do to keep her in check."

"There's a possible place," sang out Jerry a few minutes later. "Seems to be a depression in the plateau, almost like a valley. There's a long level strip at the bottom that may fill the bill."

"Looks good to me," pronounced Slim after careful scrutiny of the spot that Jerry pointed out. "Here goes!"

He spiraled down into the valley, maneuvering the plane with masterly skill. The skis landed gently on a comparatively smooth surface, skimmed along for a few hundred feet, and gradually came to a stop.

A shout of delight came from the throats of all three as for the first time their feet touched the ice of Greenland. They had reached their destination after enduring frightful perils. They had negotiated the last water jump, during which they had not known but what the next moment might be their last.

But they had triumphed! They had achieved their goal! They were in Greenland! It was with a feeling of irrepressible exultation that, all past perils forgotten, they felt solid footing beneath them.

"Now to find Dave Boyd!" cried Jerry.

"And Cameron Flood," added Slim, from whom, through all the journey, the thought of Nat Shaley and the lumber claim had never been long absent.

"Who's Cameron Flood?" asked Dick Mylert curiously.

"One of the scientists in the party," replied Slim. "There's a matter in which both he and I are interested. But now for a good meal. Then we'll set to work and get the snow off this baby's wings."

They ate with appetite, for all through that terrible night they had been too oppressed and anxious to think of food, and now woke to the realization that they were ravenously hungry.

After the meal was finished they got out scrapers and shovels and removed the snow from the wings of the Hope and also from the body and struts of the machine. In many places it had changed to ice and the work was long and arduous, and had to be done with extreme care.

This finished at last, they made a careful inspection of the plane. There were some slight repairs to be made, but considering the conditions she had met, the Hope had come through with flying colors. The broken strut was made almost as good as new.

Following this, Slim and Jerry brought out their instruments and took observations of the sun. From these they were able to figure out their approximate position.

"About forty miles inland," mused Slim thoughtfully. "We know at least where we are. But where in the mischief is Dave Boyd? Any idea, Jerry?"

"Not the least," replied Jerry. "Ten to one he's landed somewhere he didn't want to. You know that story of the trappers about seeing the plane forced down."

"Yes, and that story didn't give the location, except that it was somewhere about the center of the island," rejoined Slim. "That's a pretty indefinite indication, for Greenland is more like a continent than an island. Thousands and thousands of square miles to fly over. It's almost like looking for a needle in a haystack."

"Yes," said Jerry sombrely. "Moreover, sometimes I'm afraid of what we'll find if we find them at all. Only their dead bodies, perhaps. The plane may have been smashed to flinders."

"That's a chance, of course," admitted Slim, and a pain stabbed through his heart at the thought. "But we're not going to dwell on that. I think we'll find them, in trouble, perhaps, but still alive and well."

The two aviators were interrupted by a call from Dick Mylert, who, while the others had been making their calculations, had wandered off to the side of a cliff at a little distance.

"Come here, fellows," cried Dick, "and take a squint at these."

He held up some oval objects as they hurried toward him.

"Eggs," he said, as they came up to him. "Lallapaloozers, too. Some of the biggest I've ever seen."

"Where did you get them?" asked Slim, as he and Jerry examined them curiously.

"In the side of the cliff here," replied Dick. "Saw a cleft in the rock and climbed up. Scientific curiosity," he grinned. "We'll take them along and let some of the high-brows in Boyd's party—if we find them—tell us what they are."

"I don't know," said Slim reflectively. "Perhaps it would be wiser to put them back. They're still a little warm."

"What of that?" asked Dick.

"It means that the mother bird hasn't been away from them long and may be back any minute," replied Slim. "When she comes there may be ructions. Better put them back, Dick. We've got trouble enough without looking for any."

The young newspaper man grumbled a little but acceded. He climbed up the cliffside and was putting back the eggs when there came a sudden whirring of wings.

"Look out, Dick! For the love of Pete, look out!" shouted Slim Tyler.