* * * * *
By sundown, we had landed at the Northgate Aerodrome. Northgate being a small unincorporated community that derived its name from lying just north of Fort William. The latter, which had started out as a fur-trading post of the Hudson's Bay Company, was located on the western shore of the Kaministiquia River. Directly across from its twin city of Port Arthur, which served as the administrative seat of Thunder Bay (a geopolitical district named, itself, for a nearby arm of Lake Superior).
The river was used mostly for the transportation of freight and local inhabitants. Whereas, the aerodrome was used mostly by bush pilots taking city-slickers, from Montreal and Toronto, on hunting trips into the Northwest Territories. And, one could say that Sir Anthony and I qualified as hunters!
But, instead of another aircraft or a 1919 Pierce-Arrow limousine (such as had chauffered us in and out of Detroit), we were greeted by the sight of a Hornsby/Holt tractor with continuous traction treads!
"Welcome to Thunder Bay, gentlemen," declared the tractor's driver: "I'm Byron Charles Weir. Constable with the RCMP. And, when my superiors in Ottawa told me you were coming here, Sir Anthony, I was more than glad to volunteer to serve as your guide!"
"Thank you, Constable. And, I see you've already arranged suitable means of conveyance for us."
Sir Anthony politely gestured to the hay-filled buckboard attached to the rear of the tractor.
"Yes, sir! It's the only way, short of horseback or winter-time dogsled, to get to Sleepy Giant. But, seeing how late it is, we'll go to my house, first. That way, you can get some much-needed sleep for the exhausting trip, tomorrow."
"You mean, the mountain is that distant?" I asked.
"No, sir. I mean, it's that steep to climb!"
All conversation ceased after that, because the tractor's engine was just too loud to permit it, en route.
Constable Weir was a most hospitable host, that evening. Half-jokingly telling us how nice it was to finally have overnight vistiors who were _not_ also occupants of his office's jail cells!
Then, came the subject I had been partially dreading.
"My superiors weren't too clear as to the reason _why_ you wanted to visit Sleepy Giant, Sir Anthony. Only that it had something to do with that missing trainload of children I heard about on the wireless."
Sir Anthony and I looked each other. But, he gave me a reassuring smile.
"Yes, well; what I'm about to tell you, Constable, must never be repeated to anyone of your local acquaintances. Because, I'm afraid it is considered top secret by both our governments!"
I swear, the constable's eyes became as round as table tennis balls. He remained calm enough, however, to nod his assent.
"We have evidence that the train was made off with by some kind of...super-zeppelin."
I hurriedly put the glass of water I had been about to sip from back on the kitchen table. Lest I spit it out in disbelief!
"We also have evidence that it was built by the Communists in Moscow. And, that its purpose is to piratically disrupt maritime traffic on the Great Lakes."
The constable was so open-mouthed with astonishment, I was momentarily afraid I'd have to treat him for a dislocated jaw.
tbc
Giantess World
Author's Chapter Notes:
JUNE 24, 1921