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Show THE STORY SO FAR: To keep Nor- i land Airways In business Alan Slade afreet to fly a 10-called scientist named Frayne and bis assistant, Karnell, to the Ana w otto river In search of the trumpeter swan. With the proceeds pro-ceeds bis partner, Cruger, has bought a new plane, a Lockheed, which Is stolen. When Slade returns from the Ana w otto tie starts out, with only two clues, to recover the plane. The first clue Is the devil bird" which the blind eskimo, Umanak, bears. Dr. Morlock, the "fly-ins "fly-ins Padre," has operated on Umanak's eyes In the hope of restoring his sight. If the operation is successful Umanak will be able to help Slade. The second clue Is Slade's bunch that the tost plane and the swan-hunter are somehow connected. con-nected. But when he files back to where be left Frayne he finds him apparently Just banting swans. There is no sign of the plane. But on the way home he learns that his gas cache at the cabin of Zeke and Minty, two old prospectors, has been robbed. He tells Cruger of a third clue, the disappearance of a flyer named Slim Tumstead, who knows about both the Lockheed and Frayne's expedition. expe-dition. Zeke and Minty discover prowlers prowl-ers near their camp and set out to Investigate. Now Slade Is talking to Lynn Morlock, the Padre's daugbter. Now continue with the story. "That's all I'm getting out of it," he contended. "And I'm about fed up." CHAPTER XII "What's wrong?" Lynn asked, startled by that newer note where fearlessness had always reigned. "Cruger and I may go bust. We haven't been able to spot our stolen Lockheed." Lynn's brow furrowed with thought. "But who could get away with a thing like that?" she asked. "Even In country like this?" Instead of answering that question, ques-tion, Slade asked one of his own. "Have you ever stopped to ask what became of your friend Slim Tumstead, the flyer you fixed up after that bar-room fight?" Lynn's frown deepened. "I'd scarcely call him a friend," she objected. "He needed help, and I gave it to him." "But they'd taken Tumstead's ticket away, remember. He's lawless law-less and reckless. And he was at the end of his rope." "And is probably drowning his sorrows in some McMurray gin mill," suggested the girl. "On the contrary," said Slade, "he dropped out of sight there, without with-out leaving a trace." "But what would he do with a plane?" "That's what I want to figure out," affirmed Slade. "It couldn't be just cheap-john smuggling. And it couldn't be high-grading. Not, at least, unless that man of science who calls himself Frayne is fooling us. Our birdman, of course, might be putting on an act." "But mining and trapping is all anyone could do in country like that. "I've been over it," answered the man with the Viking eyes. "That's where I took those two swan-hunters." "Wait a minute," cried the Flying Fly-ing Padre, arrested by a sudden thought. "What was the nationality of those swan-hunters?" "It's hard to say," Slade explained. ex-plained. "But a good deal of their equipment was German. They were certainly foreigners." "German?" meditated the older man. "That doesn't seem to fit in." "Fit in with what?" asked the flyer. "With what's been happening along the coast here. Short-wave sets have been picking up messages from time to time in Russian. A good part of it, they tell me, is in code that can't be made out." "It might be a whaler," ventured Lynn, "between here and Echo Harbor." Har-bor." "Then me go Echo Harbor," was the unexpected cry from Umanak, "and find out." ' But Lynn disregarded that cry. "Don't you remember, Dad, how we kept picking up stuff like that when the Russians made their trans-polar trans-polar flight three years ago?" "Yes, I remember," said the Flying Fly-ing Padre. "But where are these people sending from? And what would a Russian be doing in this back yard of Nowhere today?" "That," said Slade as he glanced down the talus slope toward the Snow-Ball Baby that floated in the shallows, "is what I'm going to find out." A gold-green light lay over the evening world as Slade left Iviuk Slade crouched low in one of these hollows and struck a match, wondering wonder-ing if the light would show up a telltale tell-tale vein of gold-bearing quartz. But all he saw was dark and pitch-like rock. He went on up the slope, puzzled by the repeated signs of an enterprise enter-prise that seemed without meaning or purpose. Then he stopped short, arrested by a movement above him. In the vague light he could see a man, a huge-bodied man stripped to the waist, moving along the ridge crest. Balanced on his shoulders he carried what had every appearance appear-ance of an ore bag, an ore bag so heavy that the big body bent forward for-ward under its weight. He seemed to be following a path that led into the scrub timber ending abruptly in the shimmer of lake water. Slade, watching from the shadows, shad-ows, saw that figure return empty-handed empty-handed along the hilltop trail. Then he saw it once more forge lake-ward, lake-ward, once more burdened with the weight of its ore bag. He could not be sure, but something about that great body with its gorilla-like arms made him think of Karnell. And if it was Karnell, Slade felt, the man who called himself Frayne would be somewhere in the neighborhood. That thought prompted the watcher watch-er to push farther up the slope, seeking seek-ing the cover of the underbrush as he went He crept on until he crossed a well-trodden trail and again entered the underbrush that furred the declining hill slope. From there he could see a strange-looking structure of spruce boles partly obstructing ob-structing the view of the lake water between the shouldering hills. In the rocky cup behind the odd-looking spruce canooy he saw a small tent. He wouldn t be smuggling out marten mar-ten and- fox." "It's not furs, naturally," conceded conced-ed Slade. "But why is a plane flying fly-ing between Echo Harbor and the Anawotto? And where did that plane come from? And who's flying it?" "You're as bad as Umanak," Lynn observed as they stepped into the rough-boarded surgery. "That's what he keeps asking." But Umanak surprised them by an abrupt movement of his bandaged band-aged head. "Kabluna come back," he quietly announced. That, Lynn knew, meant the Flying Fly-ing Padre. And her quick cross to the door confirmed Umanak's announcement. an-nouncement. "It's Father," said the girl, with her eyes on the blur of blue that grew bigger as she watched. He could hear her cry of "Dad!" as she ran light-footed down the talus slope. The Flying Padre's greeting to Slade was cordial but preoccupied. "You're just in time, Alan," Lynn's father asserted, "to see whether I'm still a surgeon or not. We're going to unsheath our old friend Umanak." Slade tried to be casual as they darkened the little surgery and examined ex-amined the patient. But he was, he felt, the most excited of the three. The Flying Padre, after a study of his patient's face, reached to the shelf for a candle, which he lighted. "You see now?" he questioned as he held the small flame well above his head. "Me see," said Umanak. "High or low?" "High up," answered Umanak. The Flying Padre blew out the candle. "And now?" he asked. Slade could feel Lynn's fingers j tighten on his arm. V "Me no see," was the old Eski mo's answer. "Light gone." Slade could hear Morlock's sigh of relief as he stepped back and stood straighter. "Me go find devil-bird now!" cried Umanak. "That happens to be my job," said Slade. "What's this talk about a devil-bird?" devil-bird?" asked the Flying Padre, looking look-ing up from his instrument bag. Slade explained about Uie plane that had been seen between Echo Harbot and the Anawotto. But the man of medicine was not impressed. "I see planes." he observed, "in some mighty unexpected places." The Flying Padre's gaze rested on the younger man's face. "That's mean country to meander hmi in " ho soirt to the land of the midnight sun to hope for much darkness, even after two hours of heading southward. But, since his one wish was to remain re-main unseen, he flew low over the scattered waterways and ridges, his floats all but brushing the meager spruce tops as he advanced on the thinning timber line. He flew with his lights out, feeling his way along by the stars. The thought of flying dark over a steadily darkening terrain gave him the feeling of being singularly alone in a world that had fallen asleep. He wondered if, some day, camps and town-sites would mark that world of emptiness. And as though in answer to that unuttered question ques-tion he observed the darkness punctuated punc-tuated by an unmistakable sign of life. Up from the empty world ahead of him he saw a signal rocket flare and die away again. Then out of the gloom his eye caught the repeated re-peated winking of a flashlight. He watched those flashes closely, doing his best to read them. But they meant nothing to him beyond the fact that they were spelling out a message, and a message obviously obvious-ly not intended for -him. Slade made a quick decision. He banked and turned, still keeping uncomfortably un-comfortably close to the ridge crests, skimming over the broken woodland like a swallow skimming over ruffled ruf-fled water. He quartered off at right angles to his earlier course, idling on until he felt certain he was beyond be-yond the vision of the flashlight signaler. sig-naler. Then he doubled back until he found open water enough to make sure of a landing. All was quiet along the starlit lake surface that took up his headway. He let his plane drift in closer to the shadowy shoreline. Then, making mak-ing sure that all was still silence, he poled his ship patiently along the shallows. He worked his way westward, west-ward, toward the source of the rocket flare, until he came to a landing spot that suited his purpose. There he moored his plane against the shelter of a sparsely timbered bluff and took up his rifle. For several minutes, after mounting mount-ing the near-by ridge, he stood silent si-lent and watchful. When no sign of life came to him he began picking his way carefully over the broken terrain toward the quarter from which the flashlight signals had first shown themselves. His caution became be-came greater as he noticed where timber had been cut along the ridges that grew bolder as he advanced. He even observed where a hillside had been cleared and stripped. The scattered dikes and hollows clearly showed how a prospector had been I t-,iv thfr will nirk anrl ihnupl and beside this tent he caught sight of a small campfire carefully ceil-inged ceil-inged by a tarpaulin on four stakes. But what held his attention was a figure squatting beside that fire, a figure in a leather flying jacket. He could not make out the man's face. But he could see him replace a coffeepot cof-feepot on the coals and drink from a granite cup, which he tossed aside when he had emptied it. Then the man by the fire looked up as a second man spoke to him, apparently apparent-ly from inside the tent. "Not on your life," cried the man beside the fire. "I'll be damned if you'll get me to do any navvy work." What was said in response to that Slade could not hear. "I sweat enough unloading the damned stuff," contended the man in the flyer's jacket. A figure emerged from between the tent-flaps and stood looking down at the fireside lounger. "You would sweat less, my friend," the newcomer said with steely-voiced precision, "if you restricted re-stricted your use of alcohol." The other's laugh was not pleasant. pleas-ant. "That's all I'm getting out of it," he contended. "And I'm about fed up with living like a timber wolf." "But that plane must be loaded, a ton a trip," retorted his companion. compan-ion. "And Karnell can do only so much." Slade knew then that his guess had not been wide of the mark. The huge-bodied man who carried the ore bags was indeed Karnell. And the indignant figure standing above the man who still squatted beside the campfire was Frayne. When, a moment later, the fireside squatter rose to his feet and stood with his face to the light, Slade saw that it was Tumstead. "Your bullhead can do the loading." load-ing." Tumstead was saying. "I'm a flyer." "Who's drinking too much to keep a clear head." amended Frayne. "What I drink," retorted the other, oth-er, "is my own affair. I've carried your cargoes and kept this crate afloat, haven't I? And now that an outsider or two is edging in on your little enterprise I'd rather like to know where 1 get off when the blowup blow-up comes." 'There will be no blow-up. as you term it." was the cold-need response. re-sponse. "And there will be no edging edg-ing in on this enterprise." "But there's a snooper or two around this camp, and you know it And when they stumble over what you're after I'm left out on a limb " its or rH;ra-firn , |