Читать книгу Lost at the South Pole, or, Ted Scott in Blizzard Land - J. W. Duffield - Страница 3

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“So you’d like to go on that expedition to the South Pole, would you, Ted?” asked Walter Hapworth, as he threw down the newspaper he had been reading.

“You bet I would,” replied Ted Scott, the famous young aviator, who had been the first to fly over the Atlantic Ocean from New York to Paris. “Nothing in the world would suit me better.”

“It’ll be a mighty dangerous venture,” continued Hapworth. “Do you remember how poor Scott—same name as yours, by the way—froze to death with his four companions on the way back from the Pole?”

“Yes,” said Ted. “That sure was tragedy. But it’s the kind of thing that’s bound to happen in the first stages of exploration. Those who come later can profit by the mistakes and mishaps of those who have gone before. This Raymond Expedition that we’re talking about is going to be wonderfully equipped, I understand.”

“Yes,” agreed Hapworth, “it will be far ahead of any previous one, as far as preparations are concerned. It’s under government auspices, for one thing, and that means there won’t be any lack of money. Then, too, Captain Raymond, who heads it, has had vast experience in Arctic exploration, and he knows just what will be needed. He’ll see that the party has the proper clothing, the right equipment, and an abundance of food. They’re going to take along a lot of Eskimo dogs, big huskies to draw the sledges. They’ll establish depots of supplies every hundred miles or so along the route they traverse, so that, if one lot gives out, they’ll know where they can find more. Altogether, it looks as though they had a better chance of succeeding than any who have gone before them.”

“I guess you’re right,” assented Ted. “But the airplanes will be depended on to do the greater part of the work this time. The huskies are all right, but the airplanes can go farther in an hour than they can in a day.”

“Yes,” agreed Hapworth. “Then, too, there’s nothing in the air to stop the planes, while the sledges may find barriers at any time that men and dogs will have to work like the mischief to get over.”

“Gee, it will be a thrill for the fellow who first flies over the South Pole!” exclaimed Ted enthusiastically.

“Of course the Pole itself has been reached by both Amundsen and Scott,” went on Hapworth. “But that was on the ground, or rather on the ice. No one has yet flown over it. I hope that pleasure is reserved for you, Ted. By the way, have you had any answer yet to your application to go along with the expedition?”

“No. It’s some time, too, since I wrote to Raymond about it and there’s been plenty of time to get a response. I’m rather surprised that I haven’t received it yet. But then, I suppose he’s very busy in making his preparations and he hasn’t reached to writing to me yet.”

Walter Hapworth considered for a moment. “I hardly think it’s that,” he said slowly. “Of course he’s a mighty busy man. But you’d think he’d jump at the chance to take along Ted Scott, the most famous aviator in the country. It would add immeasurably to the prestige of the expedition and to the popular interest in the trip. The natural thing for him to have done would have been to drop everything else and rush a telegram to you, accepting your proposal with thanks. The question is, why hasn’t he done it?”

“It may be that my letter to him miscarried,” suggested Ted, who himself had been greatly puzzled by the delay.

“Hardly a chance of that,” replied Hapworth. “How many letters miscarry? Not one in a million. No, I don’t think it’s that.”

“What is it, then?”

“I’ll tell you. The fly in the ointment or, to vary the figure, the nigger in the woodpile is, in my opinion, that some underhand work is going on. Some one who doesn’t want you to go on that expedition is gumming up the works.”

“Who do you think it is?” asked Ted, in surprise. “I’ve had a number of enemies in my career, but most of them are now in jail,” he added, with a grin.

“This fellow I have in mind isn’t in jail,” returned Hapworth. “I think it’s Gustavus Hollister who’s trying to queer you in the matter of this Raymond expedition.”

“Hollister!” exclaimed Ted, as his thoughts flew to a well known Arctic explorer. “I’ve known for some time that that fellow has not liked me, but I’ve never known why. I’ve never done anything to him. Perhaps he doesn’t like my shape or the color of my eyes.”

“There doesn’t always have to be a reason for a man’s enmity,” replied Hapworth. “That is, a good reason. Sometimes it arises merely from the meanness of the man’s nature. But I can think right now of two or three possible reasons why Hollister’s trying to put a spoke in your wheel.”

“Just what are they?” queried Ted. “This is getting interesting.”

“Well, do you remember that, after you’d made your wonderful flight over the Atlantic and the whole country was wild over you, Hollister came back from an expedition he had made up in the vicinity of the North Pole?”

“I do remember, now you speak of it. He made some notable discoveries up there.”

“Exactly,” agreed Hapworth. “He’s no slouch as an explorer, though he’s got some mighty unpleasant qualities as a man. It would have been quite a triumphal return for him if you hadn’t happened at the time to be taking up so much of the limelight. As it was, everybody was thinking of you and his work passed almost unnoticed. Of course, the scientific societies appreciated his work and gave him full credit for it. But the general public didn’t take the notice of it that they would have under other circumstances. For that he’s never forgiven you.”

“Pretty small potatoes,” remarked Ted. “It was nothing I was to blame for.”

“Certainly not,” replied Hapworth. “A really broad-minded man, even though he might have been a bit disappointed, would never have laid it up against you. But there’s the fact. I’ve heard from various sources that he never speaks of you without bitterness and without attempting to belittle your exploits.”

“Well, that’s number one,” said Ted lightly. “What’s the next count in the indictment?”

“The second comes naturally from the first. Hollister is a born gambler. He’s got the betting fever in his blood. He wagers heavily on most big events. Now, you know that in almost every big thing you’ve done, your flight across to Hawaii, your hop to Australia, your winning of the altitude and endurance records, there’s always been a lot of bets laid both for and against your doing what you set out to do. Naturally, Hollister has done his share of the wagering. But his chagrin has twisted his judgment and he’s always bet against you. Well, naturally, he’s always lost, for you never yet have failed in anything you undertook. So I suppose he’s more bitter than ever against you because of his losses. I’ve heard it said that they amount to many thousands of dollars.”

“Too bad I couldn’t lose just to oblige his nibs,” laughed Ted. “What other awful things have I done?”

“It’s what you may do that I think is keeping him awake at night,” replied Hapworth. “You see, he’s going on this Raymond expedition, and because of his reputation as an Arctic explorer he’ll be one of the king-pins of the party. That is, if you aren’t there. But the minute it’s known that Ted Scott is going on the trip the public will center on you to the exclusion of almost all the others. It’ll be what Ted Scott is doing, where Ted Scott is flying, and so on. All the rest will be playing second fiddle, and if there’s anything Gustavus Hollister abominates, it’s playing second fiddle to anybody. He wants to be the whole show.”

“I see,” mused Ted. “A whole lot of things are clear to me now that were mysterious before. It looks as though you were right, Walter. That explains perhaps why Raymond hasn’t answered my letter.”

“I think so,” agreed Hapworth. “Although, of course, this is really conjecture. Raymond himself is a fine fellow. They don’t come any finer. He doesn’t want to have trouble in the party and he has to consider Hollister to some extent, not only because he is really a noted explorer, but because I believe he is putting up some of the funds for the expedition. I’ve no doubt he’s trying to smooth things out so that Hollister will see reason. I’m sure that Raymond himself is eager to have you go along. He knows there’s no airman in the world that can do as much for the success of the expedition as you can, and the more glory you win the better he’ll be pleased. He has the mind of the true scientist, while Hollister is thinking chiefly of himself.”

“Well,” said Ted, “we’ll have to wait and see how the thing works out. I shan’t lose any sleep over it. Yet, I would really like to go, for there’s something in it that appeals to my sporting blood. I should like to be the first man in the world to fly over the South Pole. Then, too, I’d be glad to add to the world’s knowledge on the subject of the great Antarctic region. It’s about the only part of the world that hasn’t been conquered, and I’d like to do my share in conquering it.”

“It’ll be mighty bleak and cold,” remarked Hapworth. “Makes me shiver just to think of it. Thousands of miles of ice and snow! A good deal worse than the North Polar regions, if you ask me. Up in the Arctic you do have human companionship of a kind, the Eskimos, for instance. But down in the Antarctic I don’t suppose you’ll find a human soul.”

“Probably not,” agreed Ted. “But we’d have enough companionship in the members of our own party. As for the cold, I don’t care a fig for that. And there’ll be a tremendous fascination in learning all there is to learn about a region that has been a closed book to the human race since the beginning of history. There are mountains to be measured, seas to be plumbed, strange specimens of birds and fish to classify, fossils of extinct species to be studied, coast lines to be traced, perhaps gold mines to be discovered. Why, that Antarctic Continent is nearly as big as the United States and Canada put together! For centuries it’s been challenging the world to find out about it, and I’d like to be one of those who take up the challenge.”

“The same old Ted,” laughed Hapworth. “The greater the danger, the greater the attraction. The prospect of adventure to you is like a red rag to a bull. You simply have to charge upon it.”

“Only, if your suppositions about Hollister are true, I may not get the chance,” replied Ted, with a rueful smile. “Well, I’ve got to be getting on, old man. See you later.”

“Where are you going?”

“Taking my new plane up for a spin,” was the reply. “Don’t you want to come along?”

“Like to,” said Hapworth, rising from the chair on the hotel veranda where he had been sitting, “but I have an appointment about fifteen minutes from now. Some other afternoon. So long.”

They parted, and Ted Scott hurried over to the flying field where his plane was stored. He brought it out of its hangar, and after the careful inspection he always made when about to ascend took his seat in the cockpit and started down the runway.

A short run of a couple of hundred yards and the plane left the ground and mounted into the skies.

Ted Scott thrilled as always when he found himself aloft. He had climbed up toward the skies many times, but no amount of experience could ever rob him of the delicious tingling of every nerve and fibre that marked each new ascent. The air seemed more his natural element than the earth. He felt as if everything that shackled him on the ground was snapped the moment he soared into the ether. Flying with him was not merely a vocation, it was an unspeakable delight. All the soil and stain of earth seemed stripped away in that clean, cool upper air. He was brother to the sun and moon and stars.

He circled about the field once, and then lay a straight course, intending to go perhaps a hundred miles and back while he tested the working of the plane, which had just come to him from Hapworth’s factory in Detroit.

As he flew along, gradually increasing his speed, his thoughts recurred to the conversation between Walter Hapworth and himself. He had counted much on joining this Antarctic expedition. The mystery of that great frozen realm had taken a strong hold on his imagination. The danger involved only added strength to the appeal.

He had never dreamed that his application to become a member of the party would be objected to by anybody. Hapworth’s suggestion as to Hollister’s possible tactics had come to him as something of a shock. His own nature was so broad and generous that it was hard for him to conceive of such pettiness in others.

He was brooding on this when his attention was attracted by a bright glare in front of him. He leaned over the cockpit and looked down to discern the cause of it.

His pulses quickened.

The Red Terror was at work!

Almost beneath Ted Scott a house was in flames!