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Updated: May 16, 2025
"Don't think that's all," exclaimed the hardly less enthusiastic Norman as he vaulted from the novel pilot-cage. "I guess you see what we're driving at and why we called our machine Gitchie Manitou. You know that's Cree for " "I know," broke in the stranger; "Injun for 'Storm God'!" "I thought it was 'God of the Winds," exclaimed Roy. "But names don't count.
"It's cold, all right," was Roy's comment at this moment. "I think there's ice on the river." In spite of the increasing coldness, the Gitchie Manitou made its way without trouble toward the distant camp. There was no wind and, although the boys computed the temperature outside at not less than twenty below zero, the interior of the little cockpit soon became cozy enough.
I'm not so keen about going to the Barren Lands as I was." This was why late that afternoon Colonel Howell was both surprised and glad to see his young friends trot into camp. THE Gitchie Manitou WINS A RACE Norman and Roy soon became restless and after a few days' idleness asked Colonel Howell for permission to make their delayed visit to the Pointe aux Tremble Indian camp.
Then there had been a short spell of warm weather and this night the boys could see that cool weather was rapidly approaching. As the monoplane winged its way into the gathering gloom and the crisp evening passed into dusk, the body of the Gitchie Manitou grew wet with cold dew. After dark, this began to turn into frost.
By the middle of Sunday afternoon, the Gitchie Manitou had been safely stored in its new crates, and then, with a small tool chest and a hastily-made box crowded with extra parts, had been loaded on a large motor truck and forwarded to the railroad yards.
When it seemed as if Norman was about to smash the Gitchie Manitou against the big green-roofed building, even Roy started and held his breath. Then there was a quick spring upwards and, with the last momentum of the gliding monoplane, it lifted over the structure and settled upon the dust of the race track inclosure like a wide-winged bird.
Immediately, activity began; Norman and Roy working on the Gitchie Manitou, the half-breed preparing supplies, and Colonel Howell making notes and getting papers together on the still littered table. On an air line, the young aviators estimated the distance across country at about two hundred and seventy miles.
His first inquiry was about the Gitchie Manitou. When he learned that this was apparently little injured and had already been backed into the aerodrome, he gave more evidence of his all-day's strain by again relapsing into unconsciousness on the cot that had been improvised for him before the fire in the living room.
Perhaps Norman's hand was a little out of a practice and at times Roy showed nervousness. When Norman finally guessed the cause, he mounted higher and took a course over the uplands where, as the sunshine cleared the atmosphere, the Gitchie Manitou became more easily manageable. The line of vapor rising from the river some distance on their left was sufficient guide.
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