Air Stories, April 1936 — page 44: what you’re looking at

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

AIR STORIES start a mad plunge towards the earth, and then the tail would suddenly drop, pointing the nose skywards. In despera- tion he throttled back the engine, and the full fury of the noise behind him broke upon his ears, It sounded as if all hell had been let loose in that cabin. Savage growls and snarling yaps, punc- tuated by sickening thuds, told him the story. The dogs were loose and attacking their masters. He was right. In the confines of the cabin a surly mongrel had cast a canine insult at a big lead dog. The big fellow resented the slur and broke his lashings. The little one had more spunk than dis- cretion. He, too, broke his fastenings and hurled himself at the other’s throat. Instantly the cabin was in a turmoil. The remaining dogs, loath to be out of a fight, heaved and tore their lashings loose. During the mad _ free-for-all, with three thousand feet of thin cold air between them and the frozen earth, the men uncoiled their cariboo-hide whips and sought to quieten their charges. They had no room in which to swing the curling lashes. The dogs sensed this. With one accord they abandoned the fight between themselves and sprang for the throats of the hated ‘‘ man god.’’ Slavering jaws opened wide and dis- closed white, even rows of razor-like teeth. Their long fangs, lance sharp, ripped and slashed the tough hide of the men’s parkas. Smaller dogs sneaked in and sank their fangs through sealskin mukluks into the men’s legs. The two battled for their life. They fought frenziedly, but knew they could never hope to beat back that savage attack. The dogs knew they had their masters at their mercy. They would even scores once and for all. In the front cockpit Don was trying every trick at his command in his frantic efforts to keep the machine on an even keel. Slowly but surely he was being forced down. It would require all his skill to save the ’plane. He dare not_open the small door at the back of his seat to look into the cabin. The dogs might stream through, and if that happened, the machine and all aboard it would inevitably be lost. He had no alternative but to fly on until he could land on a lake. At that instant a revolver shot rang out. Four more followed in quick succession. The air was filled with savage howls and horrible screams. Five more shots ripped out, and there were sounds of heavy weights falling. The din ceased as suddenly as it had begun. Don saw a lake ahead. Straight- way he nosed down and landed. S soon as the skis stopped sliding, he pushed the cockpit windscreen open and leaped to the ice. In two steps he was at the door of the cabin. Tearing it open, he peered inside. The cabin looked like a slaughter-house. Blood poured from the bodies of six dogs, and dripped through the space around the door. The two men were crouched in a corner, their faces white with terror, stark and livid. Their thick clothing hung in shreds. In one flashing glance, Don noted that their revolvers were extremely heavy- calibred. Trappers did not usually carry guns of that size. They were too heavy to take on the trap-lines. Once again there came to Don a vivid foreboding that these men were not what they seemed. ‘What happened here P ’’ he asked. The little man spoke. His lips trembled. ‘‘The dogs, they started to fight. We had to shoot them.’’ ‘‘ All right,’? Don replied grimly, ‘‘ vive me that whip and pass those dogs out one by one.”’ The little man retrieved a cariboo-hide whip from the floor. His hands shook as he handed it to Don. One by one the dogs were handed out. As each canine battler reached the door, Don spoke to him in words not found in the dictionary. He emphasised his lecture with cutting effect. The whip- lash sang as it curled about the crest- fallen dogs. They had had enough. There was no fight left in them. ‘‘Now, throw those dead ones out 330 CORnniclooe S (C(O)