* * * * *
The next morning, we found (much to our surprise) that a small group of Dog River Ojibwe had rendezvoused outside the RCMP station, just before sunrise. Whereupon, they built a funeral pyre.
All without Sir Anthony or myself hearing anything!
The pre-cremation service was officiated by Father Trent. Head of the Franciscan mission along the Lac Du Chien Portage (between Big Dog Lake and the headwaters of the Whitefish River). Following the cremation, he reassured us that Constable Weir's urn of ashes would be delivered to his next-of-kin in short order.
"Of course," he added: "...to assuage any curiosity regarding such a quick cremation, they will have to be told he was attacked and killed by a...rabid wolverine."
I told him that we understood.
"After all," I could not help adding: "...an alibi like that is more plausible for the common man."
Sir Anthony gave me a bemused smile.
An hour later, we were all packed and once more aboard the buckboard, being towed back to the Northgate Aerodrome. And, exactly as Hank had promised, Bob Gabriel was waiting for us. With the Handley/Page all gassed up, and ready to go.
"So!" I asked, once we were airborne: "How do you want to proceed, once we get to Milwaukee?"
"I think it would behoove us to have the local Lodge President look up the names of Camp New Hope's staff. That way, we can see which of them live in Arbor Vitae, and investigate, accordingly."
* * * * *
The flight, from Thunder Bay to Milwaukee, took up most of the day. As a result, we rested up at the local Lodge, just as we had in Detroit. The next morning, after some much-needed sleep and a hearty breakfast, we met up with Lodge President Austin Galstaff in his sound-proofed office.
We gave him an oral report of the tragic affair up in Canada. Including the accusation of complicity leveled by the bird-woman. Mr. Galstaff was silent for a few seconds, after the conclusion of our report. His steepled index fingers beating a nervous tattoo against each other.
"Do you believe that claim?" he finally asked.
Sir Anthony shrugged: "Let us just say that I have grudgingly accepted it. If only because of the constable's dying declaration!"
"Very well," he replied: "I'll have my assistant start going through our copies of those files, immediately. Hopefully, he'll have the list ready no later than five, this evening."
"Splendid!" Sir Anthony exclaimed: "In the meantime, Dr. Thorpe and I shall catch the nearest bus, and tour this magnificent city."
We were as good as our word. We spent the next three hours touring every building of local historical interest. Then, we lunched at a restaurant personally recommended by Mr. Galstaff. Following which, we took in a vaudeville matinee at the Bijou Theatre.
The first few acts were entertaining enough: bicycling acrobats; trained seals; comedic duos; and a little girl singer. But, it was the act which followed her that really caught Sir Anthony's interest. Because, out on stage, came a belly-dancing snake charmer billed as "Stymphalia Limnades."
And, she was ten feet tall, if she was an inch!
tbc
Giantess World
Author's Chapter Notes:
JUNE 26, 1921