Bronson. Airplane and
supplies." He read it aloud and whistled. Barney jumped to snatch
it from him.

"Stand back! Give me air," Bruce gasped. "An airplane at the present end
of the Hudson Bay Railroad! What's doing now? What are they up to? Going
to quit construction here and use planes the rest of the way? Fancy
freighting wheat, fish, furs and whale blubber by airplanes!" Both lads
laughed at the idea.

"I don't wish his pilot any bad luck," said Barney. "But if he must die
by breaking his neck, or something, I hope he does it before he reaches
the Hudson Bay terminus. I'd like to take his place in that big air-bird.
Say, wouldn't it be glorious!"

"You've stolen my thunder," replied Bruce, laughing. "I'm taking that
job myself."

"Tell you what! I'll fight you for it. What weapons do you choose?
Rope-handed spiking hammers or pick-axes?"

"Let's go down and see if it's here. Like as not it's a machine neither
of us would risk his neck in; some old junk-pile the government's sold to
the chap for a hundred and fifty or so."

That this idea was not taken seriously by either was shown by the
double-quick at which they went down the line, and over the half-laid
tracks to where the accommodation train was standing.

Thorough inspection of car numbers convinced them that No. 564963 C.P.R.
had not arrived.

"Oh, well! Perhaps to-morrow she'll be in. Then we'll see what we see,"
yawned Bruce, as he turned back toward the roughly-built log shack where
work awaited them.

"What's that?" Bruce, who was in the lead, stopped before the trunk of a
scraggly spruce tree. On its barkless trunk a sheet of white paper had
been tacked. The two boys read it eagerly:

NOTICE!

To Trappers, Hunters, Campers
and Prospectors.

$500
Reward
Will be paid

To any person locating anywhere
within the bounds of the
Canadian Northlands at any point
North of 55