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CHAPTER XVI
A SIBERIAN ADVENTURE
“Brrr-rr!” chattered Hiram Dobbs, with a shiver. “I say, Dave, have we got to stand this much longer?”
“I sincerely hope not,” replied the young pilot of the Comet, in a really concerned tone. “I hoped to outride the storm. But it appears to me the snow is coming down thicker and faster every minute.”
“I’m just about drifted in,” piped up Elmer.
The scene was a vast void, a chaos. The three young airmen were much in the situation of a ship driven before a blinding gale in unknown, fog-covered waters. All bearings were lost. The angle glide was obscured with snow; Dave resembled a great white statue. The biplane was the rushing center of large driving flakes whirling in eddies all about them.
They had run thus for nearly an hour, but now the machine, staunch and reliable as it was, threatened to depart from its usual good conduct record. The planes were crusted and over-weighted. The bulk of snow Hiram and Elmer tried to dislodge from other parts of the machine was duplicated before they could go the entire rounds.
There had been several ominous creaks. Once the Comet struck an air pocket. Through some deft but dangerous skidding the pilot evaded this peril. A sudden change in the wind almost precipitated a new catastrophe.
“I don’t know what we are going to strike,” said our hero; “but we’ve got to make a landing. No machine could stand much more of this.”
“Good,” cried Hiram heartily, as the Comet made a rapid dive that was nearly a somersault. “It’s solid land all right. I was afraid it might be water, and a ducking just now – brrr – rr!”
When Dave had told his friends way back in Canada that their motto must be “business, strictly business,” he and they had set themselves zealously to work to carry out the sentiment. Dave was an expert airman. The Comet was a noble machine of its type. They had met with “good luck,” too, Hiram had insisted. The biplane crossed the vast stretch of Canadian wilderness without a mishap.
At Sitka no new trap nor harmful attempt on the part of their enemies had confronted them. A government official had been deputized by telegraph from Washington to receive and identify the contestants as they arrived. The crew of the Comet were proud and happy to learn that they were the first on the scene.
They rested a day at Sitka. Dave realized that the hardest part of the route lay before them. It was no easy task to pilot a course past Cape Prince of Wales, across Bering Strait and make sure of reaching Stamavoie, a point in Kamchatka where arrangements had been made for gasoline and other supplies.
Elmer had started keeping what he called a “log.” During the ensuing six days he had some odd and spirited incidents to record. They had left the mild fall weather behind them and encountered genuine wintry blasts. The expert young pilot took no unnecessary risks. Their stops were frequent, and for the most part fortunately they managed to land near settlements or habitations. Dave had to accommodate the machine to new wind conditions. He and his friends suffered a good deal with the cold. It was now late afternoon, and according to calculations and the charts they were traversing Siberian territory.
The storm had not abated one whit as all three of the boys left the biplane. They found themselves ankle deep in a soft clinging snow.
“We can’t stay here,” said the young aviator.
“Hardly,” replied Hiram, “unless we want to see the machine and all hands covered up in a snowdrift within an hour.”
“We have lost our exact reckoning,” added Dave, “and no landmarks to go by. We are somewhere between Zashiversh and Virkni. Probably we have landed on what is known as the Nijni steppe. It is something of a barren waste, if I remember right, but dotted here and there with stations and a few little farms.”
“Wish we could find one of them,” grumbled Hiram, good naturedly.
“No chance of supper if we don’t,” observed Elmer.
“See here, fellows, we’ll push the machine along, anyway, and see what we come to,” remarked Dave. “Any shelter is better than this all out of doors position. Even a stretch of timber or the side of a hill would seem homelike just now.”
“It’s better to keep moving, anyhow,” declared Hiram, stamping his feet vigorously. “This will be a big thing to tell about if we ever get home again, fellows.”
“Steady,” ordered Dave, and he slowed up the biplane, the wheels of which ran along pretty lightly, deep as the snow was. “The ground is changing. Stop the machine. I’ll prospect a bit ahead.”
In addition to the enveloping gloom of the storm, it had begun to get dusk. Dave proceeded alone. He discovered that the ground was rough and rising. Then he ran against a tree, and clearing his sight of the obstructing snowflakes he made out that they had come upon a little stretch of timber.
“Come on, but cautiously,” he called back to his comrades.
The Comet was pushed along and halted between two heavily needled trees, affording it considerable shelter. Hiram gave a shout of delight as he discovered a spot where the ground was almost bare. A double row of immense fir trees formed a protecting canopy for several yards.
“Come in out of the wet, Dave!” shouted Elmer, in a jolly tone, joining Hiram, and all hands shook the snow from their garments.
“Shelter, plenty of fuel and a chance for a warm meal,” observed Hiram with satisfaction. “Here’s some good bits of wood,” and he began gathering up pieces of dead branches with which the spot was littered.
“I’ll get a lantern,” said Dave, moving over towards the biplane.
“This is not half bad,” declared Elmer, assisting his comrade in gathering up the loose fuel.
“Say, what’s that?”
Hiram spoke in a startled tone. He dropped his armful of wood and stood stock still. Elmer edged nearer to him.
An ominous sound had greeted their hearing. It was a howl near at hand, sharp and resonant. Then it was repeated. Staring in the direction from which the sounds came, Hiram jumped back, shouting out sharply:
“It’s wolves! Dave, look out! Elmer, grab a club! Quick! Here they come!”
Scurrying forms came flying into the tree-formed arcade. The outlines were dim, but none the less threatening and terrifying. Hiram had grabbed up a heavy piece of wood. Elmer was no coward, and did not lose his nerve. He armed himself speedily as his comrade had done, and ranged himself by his side.
“It’s wolves,” declared Hiram – “two, three, half a dozen of them. Stand steady” – whack!
Fiery-eyed, red-tongued, seeming to skim the ground, the foremost animal of an alarming pack came flying towards the boys. Hiram had struck out. The blow was aimed with all his strength and skill. It sounded like a hammer landing hard on a thick metal ball.
The animal fell back to all fours and limply turned to one side. Two others leaped boldly over its slinking body.
“Strike your hardest,” puffed and panted Hiram. Whack! whack! One of the new combatants of the boys limped off with a shattered paw. The other, infuriated with pain from a terrific clip across the jaws, made direct for Elmer. Its claws clutched its prey by the shoulders. Its distended mouth sought the lad’s throat.
Once, twice, thrice the billet of wood in the grasp of Hiram arose and descended. The wolf dropped away, dripping with blood, but Elmer was saved from its murderous fangs.
“They’re coming,” he cried “A half dozen of them! Oh, good! It’s all right now.”
Over the imperilled lads and beyond them, and squarely into the faces of the howling pack, a great glare suddenly shot out. Dave had caught the situation at Hiram’s first outcry. He could not in a hurry reach the armament of weapons carried by the Comet. The big reflector lantern, however, was kept always in a handy spot, especially at nightfall. Dave had secured this. Lighting it as he ran, he flared its broad beams, focused to a dazzling brilliancy. The wolves, blinded and affrighted, drew off with sullen, menacing growlings.
“Light the fire. It will be an added safeguard,” ordered the young airman rapidly, and he moved in a circle, swinging the lantern glow continuously.
Hiram hurriedly got leaves, chips and branches together in a heap. He flared a match and ignited it.
“Those animals have given us up as hard cases, I guess,” observed Elmer, with a laugh, half nervous, but quite triumphant.
“We must draw the machine closer to us,” suggested Dave. “Help me, Elmer.”
The campfire began to blaze, Dave, with the lantern, ventured as far as the spot where the Comet was. With the aid of his companion the biplane was wheeled a few yards along the arcade, where it seemed they must make a camp, at least until the storm abated.
Hiram was getting ready to secure some food and cooking utensils from the machine, when he paused, bent his ear, and his face expressed a new alarm.
“Hark!” he cried out sharply. “What was that?”
CHAPTER XVII
A GRATEFUL FRIEND
The oncoming night in the dreary solitude with which the young airmen were environed seemed filled with alarms. All three listened intently.
At a further distance away than at the first, the renewed howling of the wolves broke forth. The pack seemed to have chanced upon some new trail of prey.
“Why,” Hiram was the first to break the thrilling silence, “do you hear that, fellows?”
“Sleigh bells!” cried Elmer, instantly.
“Yes, and I hear the neighing of horses,” added our hero. “More than one. Listen!”
Muffled yet unmistakable, the sound of sleigh bells jangling sharply broke upon the air. There followed loud echoing neighs. Then there rose a sudden scream.
“Oh, Dave!” gasped Hiram, “it was a human voice! A man’s scream, I’ll wager! There it is again!”
“One of you keep with me,” shouted Dave, in an urgent tone. “This way!”
Seizing the reflector lantern, the young aviator dashed along the arcade. It was Hiram who first heeded his order. He had grabbed up the heaviest club at hand. At the end of the arcade Dave halted for a moment, confused by the blinding snow eddies and the dim obscurity.
“That way, straight ahead,” panted the wrought up Hiram, as another wild scream rang out.
It was mingled with the echoes of the sleigh bells in quite another direction. It was mixed with the baying and howls of the wolves nearer at hand.
The pilot of the Comet dashed on. The snow was deep and clogging. Hiram labored at his heels. The eye of light showed nothing until they had gone nearly fifty feet. Then its rays illumined a startling picture.
Upon the snow, lying upon heavy fur robes, was a man. Supporting himself upon one elbow, he was slashing about him with a short, horn-handled, thick-bladed knife. Around him more than a dozen wolves were seeking to spring upon and disable him. The minute the light dazzled the ravenous pack, they drew away, baffled.
The rescued man was clad in heavy furs. His cap, the gloves he wore, his whole equipment indicated comfort and wealth. He seemed to take in the situation at a glance. As he struggled to his feet, a motion of his hand showed deep gratitude.
He shuddered as he bent his ear to catch the retreating bayings of the wolves. Just a faint echo of the sleigh bells was now audible. A look of satisfaction came into the man’s face as he discovered this. He spoke some words in a language the young airmen could not understand. Dave pointed to the campfire, and the man bowed. Then Hiram helped him pick up the scattered sleigh robes. Dave leading the way, all hands started for the arcade.
“Who is he?” whispered the curious Elmer to Hiram, as the trio came within the radius of the cheery blaze he had built up with great armfuls of wood.
“Russian, I guess,” replied Hiram. “He can’t tell us, though, for we don’t understand him.”
“Did the wolves attack him?”
“It looks that way. I think the horses got frightened and ran away. They seemed to have tipped him and the sleigh robes over into the snow. I tell you, we reached him just in time, or those hungry brutes would have had him.”
The rescued man came up to the fire, removing his gloves and extending his chilled hands towards the grateful blaze. One coat sleeve had been ripped from end to end in his encounter with the wolves, his face bore a deep scratch. Otherwise he seemed uninjured from his recent thrilling experience.
He glanced strangely and then with interest at the three boys in turn. He stared hard as his eye fell upon the biplane. His glance lingered upon it in a puzzled, studious way. Finally he turned to its pilot, and extended his hands upwards, as if imitating a bird flying. Dave nodded.
Then the man spoke. From the deep gutterals, mingled long drawn out words and “skis.” Dave decided that he was speaking in the Russian tongue, and shook his head. More mellow and natural sounding, some words followed which Dave took to be French. He smiled, but showed that he did not yet understand.
“It is English, then?” spoke the man, with very fair pronunciation.
“Yes, English – American,” replied Dave, pleased to be understood. “We stopped our airship here on account of the storm.”
“It is so?” answered the man. “A few versts further, and you would have reached the station. That is Mokiva. I am the superintendent. You shall come there to share the best I have. You have saved my poor life.”
And then quite solemnly the man went the rounds. He shook each of his young friends by the hand, looking them steadily in the eyes.
Hiram hurried up the meal, got some hot coffee ready, and passed it around. It warmed up, and acted as an excellent accompaniment to some canned pork and beans, some toasted cheese, and plenty of crackers.
The glow of the fire was penetrating and comforting. They were seated on the thick, heavy robes. Hiram was quite jolly over their pleasant situation.
The rescued man had to talk slowly and pick his words to make them understand him. He told them that his name was Adrianoffski. He was a trader, and lived at Mokiva, about twelve miles distant. He had been at another station across country, and had started to return home, not dreaming that he could not reach it before dark. The unexpected snowstorm had overtaken him, and the wolves had gotten after the sleigh. The tragic climax had been averted by the prompt action of Dave Dashaway.
It more than compensated the boys for their trouble as they got better acquainted with the man. It seemed that he had agents, friends, and trading stations, all through Russia and in several Asiatic countries. With some of these he only exchanged goods, while others he owned. At the end of two hours the interested young airmen had learned more of real geography right on the spot than they had ever picked up at school.
The storm let up finally. An adverse wind, however, had set in.
“I hardly think we had better risk the hard work and danger of a run to-night,” our hero advised his helpers. “We are fairly comfortable here.”
“That’s right,” assented Elmer, who had been enjoying it immensely, writing up his “log.” “We’ll have great fun when we get home in some snug and cozy corner, telling our friends of what a real snowstorm is.”
“There’s something!” exclaimed Dave, suddenly, starting up from his resting place on the robes.
“Why, it’s another sleigh!” cried Hiram. “If they see our fire, whoever is coming, we will have some more company.”
“Ah, it is well,” broke in Adrianoffski, his eyes brightening. “I much thought they would seek me.”
The speaker reached inside his heavy coat and drew out a whistle, and proceeded to blow on this. It was so small that the boys were fairly amazed at the shrill, clear, far-reaching sound it made. The Russian sent out a dozen or more calls. They seemed timed to some rhythmic signal, for as the boys listened there was a response.
Going to the end of the arcade, they noticed lights approaching. These outlined three horses attached to a sleigh bearing lamps. The vehicle came directly up to them and halted. Two men leaped from the sleigh and approached their employer with pleased words.
“My horses ran home, as I thought they would,” Adrianoffski explained to the boys, after conversing with his servants in their native dialect. “My people at once started out to find me. Ah, this is excellent. You shall partake of the best at Mokiva this night.”
“We would be glad to go with you,” said Dave, “but we dare not leave our machine unguarded.”
“Unguarded?” repeated the Russian with forcefulness. “My friends, you know not the fidelity of these, my people. They shall remain here all night, and your airship shall be guarded as though it were pure gold. Fear nothing, these men are trusty and tried.”
A thought of all Adrianoffski might tell them of practical details of their route ahead, induced the young airman to agree to his wishes. He made sure that the Russian instructed his servants as to due watchfulness in their vigil. It was understood that they should be brought back to the camp very early in the morning. Then the boys, muffled up in cold-defying fur robes, took a real bracing Russian sleigh ride.
They found that the station comprised two large warehouses. In one of these Adrianoffski had his living quarters. They were comfortable, even luxurious. Nothing would do but that another meal should be served. Then the host of the airship boys took them to his office and library combined.
Our hero had explained at the camp on the steppe about their proposed race around the world. Adrianoffski was deeply interested. He had a large globe showing the world, and he made Dave indicate the route they had come, and the proposed one ahead. In turn, with considerable pride he showed red crosses he had made in red ink all over European and Asiatic Russia, Persia, Turkey and Northern Africa.
“I have learned something of many languages and peoples,” he said. “As you see, I have posts or stations all over this part of the world. You saved my life. Let me direct you to good friends, who will surely cherish you for that kindly act.”
Dave passed his finger over that part of the globe marked Thibet. For a long time he questioned the trader.
“There is a wonderful city there, called Lhassa,” observed the young airman. “You know of it?”
“I know of it,” assented Adrianoffski – “ah, well, indeed. It is here, a few versts only from Lhassa, that my trusted partner, Ben Mahanond Adasse, has his great depot. He trades solely in Thibet. You would go there?”
“To Lhassa, yes,” answered Dave.
“Impossible!” exclaimed the Russian, with almost startling force. “My son, you know not what you say. Lhassa – it is the city of mystery, the sacred metropolis of the tried and chosen. For an outsider to appear at its gates is capture – life imprisonment. For a foreigner to penetrate to its secret recesses, is sure death.”
“But your partner, this Ben Mahanond Adasse?” questioned the young aviator, “I could visit him without risk?”
“With certain welcome,” promptly responded Adrianoffski. “He is powerful, he is favored. He could protect you. But go no further than his home, lest you go to your doom. As to my partner – see, I give you a talisman, a token.”
The Russian removed from his finger a large seal ring, and pressed it into the hand of Dave Dashaway.
CHAPTER XVIII
IN STRANGE LANDS
Dave and his boy friends had no cause to regret their meeting with Adrianoffski. Their stay at the trading station, brief as it was, had given new impetus and encouragement to the expedition. The Russian gave them points as to their route that enabled them to save time and distance. Besides that, he named places where they might stop and be assured of friendly and helpful service from his agents.
“I tell you, meeting Mr. Adrianoffski was fine luck,” said Hiram, enthusiastically, one morning, as they started up for the day’s flight. “We are pretty sure to reach Lhassa without much trouble; aren’t we, Dave?”
“To reach its vicinity, you mean,” corrected the young airman. “I am greatly depending on this Ben Mahanond Adasse to whom our Russian friend has directed us.”
They had left the severe wintry blasts behind them two days flight out of Mokiva. While the weather was not at all summery, the milder climate as they proceeded southward was in pleasing contrast to what they had endured in the bleak and barren solitude of Siberia.
So far everything had gone pretty close to the schedule the pilot of the Comet had laid out when they left Washington. They reached stations as planned. There was no trouble in securing gasoline and other supply stores. Then, too, there were pleasant breaks in their arduous flights. The ring Adrianoffski had given Dave acted magically when shown at depots along the route to which he had directed him.
It was at Kolyvan that a full day’s stop had to be made. There were some machine repairs necessary. Through telegrams and newspapers the airship boys were able to glean some information as to their competitors in the race. Out of the twelve that had started only four had reached Sitka. The closest rival was machine number seven, reported at that point six hours after the Comet had left.
The machine crossed Thibetan territory about noon time. Dave was able to determine this from charts, points given by Adrianoffski, and the contour of the district. It was an interesting panorama they viewed all the rest of that day. They passed over great camel trains traversing the barren plains. They had a chance to see the native yaks, trained to perform all the duties of horses. The extensive lamaseries, or monasteries, some of them built on the very apex of well-nigh inaccessible cliffs, amazed them.
The Comet was viewed by gaping groups whenever they passed over a settlement. Dave had a town called Zirva for his evening destination. It was near here that Ben Mahanond Adasse had his trading station. The young air pilot calculated upon arriving after dark. It might interfere with his plans to have the Comet publicly seen so near to the sacred city of mystery.
“Judging from the landmarks described by Mr. Adrianoffski,” said Dave, towards the middle of the afternoon, “I think we are quite near to Zirva.”
“That is the trading post of his partner?” spoke Hiram.
“Yes,” nodded the young aviator. “Those glittering spires and domes in the distance must be Lhassa. We must look for a secure and secluded landing place.”
This they found soon afterwards. It was at the edge of a rugged hill. Beyond it were some straggling settlements, but the Comet was screened from these as it approached the hill from the east.
“I don’t care about attracting the attention of the natives,” explained our hero. “They are quite fanatical, and have probably never seen an airship before. They might think it some demon of the air, or an infernal machine come to destroy their gods and temples.”
“Yes, I think myself we had better keep in the background as much as we can,” agreed Hiram. “It would be a pity to have a mishap now, with the hardest part of the route covered.”
“But how are you going to locate this Adasse?” inquired Elmer.
“According to what Mr. Adrianoffski told us,” replied Dave, “his station cannot be more than a few miles from here.”
“What’s your plan about finding him, Dave?” asked Hiram.
“Why, as soon as it gets dusk I will venture down into the valley there. You two will stay here on guard. Keep ready for a quick flight, if any of the natives discover the machine.”
The trio enjoyed the luxury of a grateful rest on the ground while they conversed. Hiram, speedy to recuperate and always active, strolled away from his comrades. He looked out over the country. Then he became interested in watching a man just below the point where the Comet had landed.
“Say fellows,” he observed briskly, coming back to his friends; “if you want to see something queer just take a peep over the edge of that rock yonder.”
“What is it, Hiram?” inquired Elmer.
“You have to come with me to find out,” was the reply. “I can’t imagine what a funny old fellow down below there is up to.”
“All right, we’ll take a look,” said Dave.
“There he is,” pronounced Hiram, after the others had followed him a little distance, and he pointed past a shelving rock.
On the level of the valley below a native was squatted before a flat boulder. He held in his hand a comical metal object with an ivory handle. He seemed turning the handle. The boys, even at the distance they were, could hear a click-clack sound, apparently proceeding from the device.
“Say, whatever is that contraption?” asked the puzzled Hiram.
“Looks like a cross between a nutmeg grater and a music box,” suggested Elmer.
Dave ventured no opinion. Like the others he continued to watch the curious pantomime of the native. The lips of the man moved incessantly, making a dull monotonous drone. Finally he placed the device on the stove before him and closed his eyes.
His body swayed and he flung his arms aloft. Then he bent his forehead clear to the ground. All the time he kept up a steady monotone.
Finally he arose to his feet and picked up a knapsack and a long, sharp-pointed spear. He was about to resume his way. Just then a huge bird resembling an eagle, only snowy white, sailed down from a tree on the hillside. It swooped over the boulder and made a peck at its surface. The next moment it soared aloft, the trinket in its bill.
The native uttered a wild, frantic shriek. Of a sudden he was transposed into a being denuded of reason. As the bird flew up over the crest of the hill, the man cast himself prostrate on the ground; writhing there in agony. Beating his head with his hands, his face distorted, he acted like some person in a fit.
“Well, that’s something odd to see,” began Hiram – “what is it, Dave?”
The young airman had watched the course of the thieving bird, eagle, macaw, crow, or whatever it was. He saw the bird sail along until its glance fell upon the biplane. Then it dropped to one of the wings. The bauble retained in its bill, it walked over to one of the seats, dropped its prize, and began pecking at the seat cushions.
Our hero was on his feet in an instant of time. He ran towards the machine, intent on scaring away the predatory intruder. Dave had picked up a stick. This he hurled at the bird. It gave a sullen croak and took to wing, disappearing on the other side of the hill.
The young airman was curious and interested enough to lean over into the body of the machine and secure the object dropped by the bird. He was viewing it critically and with some comprehension of its use, when his comrades joined him.
“What is it, Dave?” queried Hiram eagerly. “That old fellow below yonder is tearing up the ground and rolling all about in a fearful fashion.”
“I know what it is,” pronounced Dave, “and I think we had better get it back to its owner and save some mischief for him. This is what is called a prayer mill. See, this handle turns a silken scroll on a reel all covered with queer-looking characters. These represent the prayers the Thibetans make to their great idol, Da-Fan-Jan. The priests supply them to the worshippers. They are highly prized. I have read about them, and have seen pictures of these queer prayer mills, as they call them.”
“You’re not going down there to give it back to the native; are you?” asked Hiram; in some surprise, as Dave looked about him to discover the easiest way of descending the hillside.
“Yes, I think I had better,” was the reply. “You don’t know how these superstitious people value such charms. This prayer mill may have been cherished in that man’s family for centuries. It is regarded an heirloom, and the person losing it probably thinks he is condemned if he does not recover it.”
Our hero hurried his steps. Descending the hillside alone he chanced to glance at the native. The man had now arisen to his feet. All his violent manner had disappeared. His face wore a look of sullen despair.
He had taken his spear and fastened its end stoutly under an edge of the boulder in a slanting position. Its keen point showed breast high. The man had retreated some twenty feet. There he stood posed for a run. Dave recalled something he had read of the hari-kari of the rude Asiatic tribes. Suicide, swift and terrible, was the rule where some great loss, disgrace, or bereavement unsettled the mind.
“He means to impale himself with all his force on that spear point and end his life,” decided the young aviator. “Hoi-hoi!”
Just in time did Dave distract the native from his tragic purpose. He fairly tumbled down the hill as the man, running at full speed, had almost reached the waiting instrument of death. Dave’s shout made him waver. As he dangled the prayer mill towards the wretched man, the latter came to a pause like a statue.
The eyes of the native were glued to the amulet as if he was fascinated. To his overheated fancy Dave possibly suggested some “white god” sent from the clouds to restore the precious prayer mill.
The young airman came directly up to the native and extended the trinket. The dark, bony hand of the devotee reached out and clasped it. He burst into tears, kissed it, caressed it. He thrust it into his bosom, and raising his arms in wild gyrations began a shrill, joyful chant.
When it was concluded he cast himself on the ground. Crawling abjectly he embraced Dave’s knees. He lifted his eyes in gratitude.
A stout steel chain bearing at one end a serviceable watch and at its other the ring Adrianoffski had given Dave, met the glance of the grateful suppliant.
“Oi-e! oi-e!” he suddenly shouted. His fingers touched the ring. His eyes, showing an intelligence he could not express, rested on the face of the young aviator.
