Chapter XV: Singing Arrows

The young voyagers looked at each other with amazement in their eyes. It seemed wholly likely that Slim Tyler's conjecture was true.

Travelers in this region, by air or otherwise, were extremely few. No other expedition in this part of the world was known to be in progress. And the date line, coinciding so closely with Dave Boyd's departure on his trip, deepened their confidence in their conclusions.

"It's almost like a message from him," said Jerry, with a touch of awe in his tone.

"Don't get superstitious, Jerry," laughed Dick.

"Of course," remarked Slim, "it doesn't prove that Dave actually landed here. The paper may have been dropped or blown from the plane. But that the _Flying Cloud_ at least passed over this place, I feel sure. We know that this was the general direction he intended to take when he started."

"Seems like a good omen," remarked Jerry. "Makes me feel, somehow, as though we'd got in touch with Dave."

"Same here," agreed Slim. "But now let's get busy with those skis."

They brought the long runners out of the plane together with the necessary tools and set busily to work.

They had taken off one of the wheels and were applying themselves to the other, when Jerry felt a rush of wind over his face, accompanied by a slight stinging sensation in his ear.

"Jehoshaphat! what's that?" he exclaimed, as he straightened up. "Felt as though a bee had stung me."

"You're loco," replied Dick, without looking up. "Bees don't go gadding about in this kind of weather."

"Why, Jerry!" cried Slim, in some alarm, "your ear is bleeding."

"So it is," assented Jerry, as he put his finger to the injured member and brought it away reddened. "Now what in thunder----"

He stopped short and gazed transfixed at the side of the plane.

An arrow was sticking there, still quivering!

"Indians!" yelled the young leader, as he recovered from his momentary stupefaction. "To the other side of the plane, fellows! Quick!"

They darted to the side that was farthest from the woods and crouched in the shelter of the _Hope_.

They were not a moment too soon, for as they did so the air became full of hissing sounds, and they could hear the soft thud of arrows as they buried themselves in the wood.

This was something that had never entered into their calculations. Animal foes they had counted on as a possibility, more than that, a probability. But human enemies, no!

"I never thought of there being Indians in Canada," muttered Dick. "I'd always associated them with the Wild West in our own country."

"There are a few scattered tribes in Canada in the upper part," replied Slim. "But I never thought of them as dangerous."

"I'll say they are," grumbled Jerry, as he touched gingerly his injured ear. "Here's the proof of it. And they can shoot pretty straight, if you ask me."

"Wonder if they'll rush us," observed Dick.

"Probably not till dark, anyway," conjectured Slim. "They won't take any needless risks as long as they think they can pick us off from the shelter of the woods."

The voyagers peered over the side of the plane toward the patch of woods. Not a sound came from there. Not a figure could be seen. If it had not been for those ominous arrows sticking in the side of the plane, it might well have seemed that the young adventurers had that whole region to themselves.

Stealthily, Slim Tyler crept over the side of the plane, got his own rifle and handed other weapons to his companions.

"Might as well do a little shooting on our own account," he said grimly, as he rejoined his mates. "We'll send a little volley into the woods just to let those bozos know we're armed."

At his signal all fired at once, and their bullets went whistling among the trees. No cry of pain indicated that any of them had found a mark. A silence as of death reigned over the darkening woods.

"A little bashful about showing themselves," remarked Dick.

"They're waiting patiently," replied Slim. "They count on the dark as their best friend. Then they'll try to put us out of business and loot the plane."

"If we hadn't taken that wheel off," groaned Jerry, "we could start the old bus going and give these fellows the merry ha ha."

"Lucky there's only one off," replied Slim. "We can put that on in a jiffy. The skis will have to wait till another time. Here's my plan, fellows. As soon as it's too dark for them to see us, we'll slip around to the other side and adjust the wheel. It won't take us more than ten minutes, if we hurry. Of course more arrows may come, but they'll be shot more or less at a venture and we've got to take our chance. In the meantime we'll send them a volley every once in a while, just to warn them that, if they get anything from us, they'll have to fight for it."

They followed this suggestion, shooting at intervals into the woods without eliciting any response from their unseen enemies.

When dusk at last had deepened into dark, the three slipped silently to the other side of the plane and worked with desperate energy at replacing the wheel.

It was ticklish work, for at any moment a host of arrows might come with their messages of death.

It was done at last, however, and Slim and Dick climbed into the plane.

Jerry gave the propeller a whirl and dashed for the cockpit.

At the instant a horde of savages, with blood-curdling yells, broke from the shadow of the woods!