Chapter XXII: Conspiracy

"This is no place for us!" exclaimed Angus, pointing out the obvious.

"But we can't move our ship without a block-and-tackle," objected Tom, "and we haven't one."

"We have plenty of rope, though," contributed Jimmy, "and we can whittle out pulleys if we have to."

"Take too long," objected Angus. "We've got to get out of here. A winch would be easier than pulleys."

"Let's make a winch then," suggested Tom. "Come on."

Under his guidance, they cut down a tree about eight inches thick, and cut off a log about six feet long, with three pieces of branch projecting at almost right angles from one end.

Just beyond the top of the incline, up which they had been trying to push the airplane, there stood two trees five feet apart. From these trees the men trimmed all the low branches, except one on each, projecting away from the valley at a height of about four feet above the ground.

Into the crotches thus formed, they lifted their log. The rope, hitched to the bow of the plane, was secured to this log. Then they took turns, two of them at the handles of the winch thus formed, while the third chocked the wheels of the plane to keep it from sliding back.

It was hard work, but the plane actually moved, and soon was out of the awful magnetic valley. To their delight, they found that the motor functioned perfectly again, now that it was beyond the influence of the lodestones.

Some further time was consumed in wheeling the craft, with assistance from its whirling propellers, until they finally jockeyed it into an open space large enough for a take-off.

But before they left, they carried off all the Skraeling rifles, forty-three in number, cached them beside a large rock in the jungle, where they could easily be found again. For the rifles would have been too heavy a load for their plane to carry, in addition to the three men.

The reptiles and the little _skwaas_ were just picking the last shreds of meat from the white bones of the dobrat, as the three men soared up and away to the northward once more.

The rest of the flight home was uneventful, and soon they landed, amid stirred-up clouds of red pollen, in the fields which flanked the plateau of the Viking city.

Great was the rejoicing at their return, for they had delayed so long _en route_ that every one had begun to worry about them. And even greater was the rejoicing, when it was learned that Nick Fratelli and Cicero Tony Schultz would menace them no more. The power of the enemy was broken forever. Leaderless and nearly weaponless, they had now been driven further from the Viking strongholds than ever before.

During their absence, Nils, the boy bishop, had dug up the body of Captain Ferreira and had given it a stupendous flaming Viking burial at sea, in an endeavor to make an impression on little Terry. The girl did seem impressed, and Nils appeared to have made so much progress with her that he scorned to make any hostile move toward Tom on the latter's return.

Terry had suppressed her anxiety at Tom's long delay, and now Tom made no effort to see her, much as he desired to. Poor chap! The loving reunion of Jimmy with Borghild, and Angus with Astrid, made him lonely.

After a rest, he and Angus each took one trip back to bring in the rifles, while preparations were made on the plateau for a big celebration of their final victory over the Skraelings.

* * * * *

Great preparations were made for the celebration of the Skraelings' downfall. A huge banquet was held in the assembly hall. Theresa Ferreira occupied the place of honor at the right hand of Bishop Nils. Almost every one regarded them as practically betrothed.

Upon Scarface, Nils bestowed the rank of _yarl_. Tom Jones, Mike Murphy, Little Arty, and even Charley Loy were knighted. Otho the Silver-tongued, _yarl_ of a distant city, sang a saga, especially composed for the occasion, in which he recounted, madly garbled, the cruise of the Miami, and the other adventures of the new Yarl Fee-ess-med-air, which is Norse for "Scarface."

Speeches were made, in the boisterous language of the Vikings, by Nils and Eric and Angus. And then the bishop called on Scarface Boston Jimmy for a few remarks.

The new _yarl_ thanked them for the honor which they had bestowed upon him, and expressed his appreciation of having had the opportunity of battling side by side with them against the common enemy, and his regret at ever having conspired against them.

"And now," he concluded in broken Norse, "you doubtless wish to know where I plan to settle, for as a true Viking I assume that you will give me no lands, but rather will send me forth to conquer my own yarldom.

"Two hundred miles to the north-eastward, where your glider first sighted us when we invaded the center of the earth, there is a peninsula which I surveyed from a mountain top. At that time it appealed to me. I visioned it netted with roads and dotted with teeming cities. I stamped my foot on the summit, and took possession in my own name. The surrounding country seemed uninhabited, even by Skraelings. The general appearance is more like the outer earth than these lands here to the southward. So if you will give me men and barges, I will go and colonize that peninsula, and establish there my yarldom."

His Borghild beamed with pride.

He struck his sword on the rough board table, for he was garbed as a Viking of the Vikings, and shouted, "Who will volunteer to sail in the fleet of James Lefavour?"

"I will!" cried Tom Jones, springing to his feet.

"And so will I," cried Little Arty.

"And I," added Mike Murphy.

"And I. And I. And I," chimed in Vikings from all over the hall.

Bishop Nils smiled with approval, and pressed Theresa's hand. His rival, Tom Jones, had been the first to volunteer in this new adventure, from which he might never return.

When the commotion was over Tom obtained the floor and suggested that, after the next sleep, he and Scarface should fly up to the new yarldom to reconnoiter. And the bishop smiled again, and hastened to approve.

The next morning quite a crowd came down to see them off. Eric and his wife Helga. Angus and his wife Astrid. Borghild to bid godspeed to her Yimmy. Nils and Theresa, arm in arm, the boy bishop anxious to show off his conquest, and to triumph over Tom to the very last.

Tom had brought a large bundle of his belongings. And Borghild, smiling slyly, also brought a large bundle, ostensibly for Jimmy. These were stowed into the cockpit of the plane.

The motor was started, the skids were removed, and Tom settled into the driver's seat.

Then Scarface stepped off to the edge of the crowd for a fond farewell embrace of Borghild.

At the same moment Helga and Astrid drew Nils one side.

"Let go of Theresa for a moment, if you can," they cajoled him. "We have an important secret for you--it concerns her."

Then, as they led him away from the crowd, the airplane motor gave an impatient roar behind them, as they bent near to whisper in his ear.

"I can't hear a word you say," exclaimed Nils a bit testily. "You'll have to speak a little louder."

"All right!" they shouted. "What we wanted to tell you was that Theresa's replacing Scarface and is eloping with Tom Jones in the plane!"

Nils wheeled.

The crowd was scattering as the plane soared from the field, sending up a cloud of red pollen. Then it sped away to the northward, with Tom and his eloping bride waving good-by to those below.

* * * * *

The elopers adjusted to their ears the phones installed long ago by Eric and Angus to make conversation possible above the roar of the motors. As the plateau city gradually faded behind them in the distance, Tom suggested:

"Let's land somewhere and have a real talk at last, dear."

So the amphibian plane volplaned down to the water, and then taxied up to the beach of a little island. Tom clambered out of the cockpit, and assisted the erstwhile tomboy to alight, which she did shyly, blushing.

The two sat down on the sand, nestling in each other's arms. Tom broke the silence to ask humbly, "How did you happen to pick me, when you could have become queen of all the center of the earth by marrying Nils Uppri? Is it just because you wouldn't marry a priest?"

"No," she replied, "I got over that idea long ago, for bishops are different down here, more like kings or congressmen or something, than like the bishops of my church, I don't know just why I didn't fall for Nils. We got along fine together in our log fort."

Tom glowered, but Theresa leaned over and kissed him, until he smiled again.

"You know, it's a funny thing," said she. "At first, I thought I cared for Nils; but after a while every time he would kiss me and put his arms around me, I'd shut my eyes and make believe it was you."

"I'd rather do it myself," interjected Tom, suiting the action to the word.

How these two flew out through the polar orifice of the earth, and down over the continent of Greenland in the dead darkness of polar winter, finally to crash off the coast of Nova Scotia, would take too long to tell. Suffice it to state that they lived through their hardships, reached Boston, and were duly married by a cardinal in person.

From them I learned this story, for they looked me up because of my having written up the earlier adventures of Eric and Angus.

They are now as happy as I would wish for them. The fly in the ointment is that none of Tom's Back Bay friends will believe his story of Chicago gangsters, the frozen north, and the land beyond the pole. They claim; these bluestockings, that it is all a mere yarn to cover up the bald fact that Tom has gone and married a little gutter-snipe whom he picked up somehow during the summer--this in spite of the fact that the girl is rapidly developing into as fine a lady as one would care to know.

But they love each other devotedly, and may eventually live down the suspicions of his friends.

Incidentally, the little old ex-jockey, named Arty, was let onto the secret of their intended flight, and sent out a message by them. He wants the Sydney broadcasting station to use the Rogers underground aërial occasionally, so that he can try to tune in on them. Australian papers please copy.

THE END.