Air Stories, April 1936 — page 42: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

AIR STORIES replying, wondering why he had never seen him at Pelican Lake before. He might have come into the country by other means, of course ; there were plenty of them. ‘‘ Trapper ? ’’ he ventured. é¢ Yes.’ ‘‘How many dogs P ”’ ‘* Fourteen.’’ ‘* Much of an outfit ? ”’ ‘* About five hundred pounds.’’ ‘‘ Trap this country before P ’’ ‘‘No, I’m from northern Ontario, near Red Lake.”’ ‘*‘O.K. Get your outfit ready, and I’ll load you when I come from the mine office.’’ On the way to the office, Don calcu- lated his flight from Pelican Lake to Moosehorn Lake. It would be right on his route to the ‘‘steel’’ * where the little town of Fraser struggled for recog- nition—and lost the unequal fight. It would take him along the ‘‘ cat ’’ trail, where the huge caterpillar tractors hauled their ponderous loads of mining supplies into the mining districts from the railroad. Queer, he mused, why anyone should choose to trap that part of the country. It was only thirty miles from Fraser, and well settled by Indians. They never brought out any large fur catches. How did this newcomer hope to get along ? Still musing, paper-covered shack that did duty as a mine office. Mike Dawson, the mine manager, glanced up as he opened the door. ‘Oh, hello, Don. How’s the ‘ wind- mill jockey ’ to-day ? ’’ The pilot smiled and drew off his thick gauntlets. It always amused him to hear Mike term pilots ‘‘ windmill jockeys.’’ He spread his hands towards the big box-stove. . ‘“Not bad, not bad. What’s new, and how many bricks to-day ? ”’ Dawson stroked his chin. He looked downcast ; like a man who had a dis- tasteful duty to perform, and didn’t relish it. 7 * ‘' Steel,’’ the Northerner’s name for the railroad.—Author’s ote. he entered the tar-- ‘* Well, Don,’’ he began, ‘‘I hate to tell you this, but I guess I’ll have to.’’ The pilot looked up. He had heard a rumour or two, but hadn’t believed them. It didn’t seem possible that ‘‘You see, Don,’’ Mike went on, ‘‘when you started flying for yourself we kinda hoped you’d cut the freight rates on gold brick shipments. Your charges are the same as the Northern Air Lines, and they’re too high. The directors have told me to notify you that our gold won’t be shipped out by *plane any longer.’’ Carson looked at the manager. A spot of red appeared on Mike’s rosy cheeks. It glowed deeper than the ruddy hue surrounding it. ‘‘Don’t blame me,’’ he put in. ‘‘I can’t help it. I’d far rather see the stuff go out by ’plane.’’ ‘‘ How are you going to send it out ? ”’ Don snapped. ‘By cat-train,’’ + Mike replied. ‘‘Tommy will take it with him.’’ ‘‘ Have you forgotten the cat that went through the ice on Lone Man River and took the skinner and gold bricks with it? They never found either. They were lost in forty feet of muskeg.’’ Mike shrugged his shoulders. ‘‘T can’t help it, Don. I have to take orders, and I’ve done what I was told to do.”’ ‘Does anybody know you’re shipping stuff out by cat P ’’ ‘*T couldn’t say,’? Dawson answered. ‘¢T’ve had the order for two weeks, so it’s likely everybody knows.’’ N the way back to the dock Don tried to think why the directors should choose to send their gold out by cat-train. The time element alone was sufficient to condemn that method. The cat-trains took at least eight days to reach the ‘‘steel’’ from the mine. He could put that gold ship- ment on the train two hours after leaving Pelican Lake. The seven days’ interest t The ‘‘cat,’’ or caterpillar tractor, is extensively used in the Canadian North-West for hauling large loads over snow trails between the railroads and the mines. They haul up to 60 tons ona single ‘* swing ’’ (as a train is called), and the driver of the ‘‘cat’’ is called a ‘‘ cat skinner ''—and many other things at times !—Author’s Note. 328 INOO SJ (SO)