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.

"A New York paper!" exclaimed Jerry, as he looked at the heading. "What do you know about that?"

"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!"