teve. I haven't been with the whaling company lately; been
resting, down here--secluded. Didn't know that submarine, the _Peary_,
was missing. I just learned. And I know damned well what's happened to
it. I've got to get to it, quick is I can, and I've got to have a
plane."

Steve Chapman said rather faintly:

"But--where was the _Peary_ when they last heard from her?"

"Some twelve hundred miles from the Pole."

"And you want to get there in a plane? From here?"

"Must!"

"Boy, you stand about one chance in twenty!"

"Have to take it. Time's precious, Steve. I've got to stop in at the
Alaska Whaling Company's outpost at Point Christensen, then right on
up. I can't even begin unless I have a plane. You've got to help me on
my one chance of bringing the _Peary's_ men out alive! You'll probably
never see the plane again, Steve, but--"

"To hell with the plane, if you come through with yourself and those
men," said the pilot. "All right, kid, I don't get it all, but I'm
playing with you. You're taking my own ship."

He led Ken to a hangar wherein stood a trim five-passenger amphibian;
and very soon that amphibian was roaring out her deep-throated song of
power on the line, itching for the air, and Steve Chapman was shouting
a few last words up to the muffled figure in the enclosed control
cockpit.

"Fuel'll last around forty hours," he finished. "You'll find two
hundred per, easy, and twenty-five hours should take you clear to
Point Christensen. I put gun and maps in the right pocket; food in
that flap behind you. Go to it, Ken!"

Ken Torrance gripped the hand outstretched to his and held it tight.
He could say nothing, could only nod--this was a real friend. He gave
the ship the gun.

Her mighty Diesel bellowed, lashed the air down and under; the
amphibian spun her retractable wheels over the straight hard ground
until they lifted lightly and tilted upward in a slow climb for
altitude. With fiery streams from the exhaust lashing her flanks, she
faded into the darkness to the north.

"Well," murmured Steve Chapman, "I've got her instalments left,
anyway!" And he grinned and turned to the mail.

* * * * *

That night passed slowly by; and the next day; and all through night
and day the steady roar of beating cylinders hung in Kenneth
Torrance's ears. At last came Point Christensen and a descent; sleep
and then quick, decisive action; and again the amphibian rose, heavily
l