Father Discovers the Yeti

Father, meanwhile, discovered the yeti. He was navigating a small but promising volcanic tube, the fifth tunnel they tried to follow the children.  The Lucy Stone’s spotlights grazed over a boulder, catching his eye in the otherwise smooth tunnel. He was surprised when the boulder stretched, unfolding into a sinewy seven foot hairy man-shaped creature. It roared at the challenging airship, beating its chest.

The roar woke the ladies, who had been attempting (in the Captain’s case) or pretending (in Madame’s case) to nap. They joined Phineas at the fore window as he deftly back the airship away from the angry yeti.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” he demanded. “Dash it! Why don’t I have my photographic equipment with me? What a remarkable find.”

Captain Charette rubbed sleep from her eyes. “We still in that tunnel?”

“Yes. It hasn’t gotten any smaller, so I’m hopeful.” He answered without taking his eyes from the yeti, a manic smile on his face. “Do you know, I think it might be a hominid?”

“Hominid or not, it’s blocking our way to the children,” Hera said.

“We can’t push past it,” Captain Charette said. “Not if it attacks. It would take it a while to get to us, but those claws look like they could shred my envelope.”

It paced the cave floor, growling and challenging the Lucy Stone, which hovered seventy yards back from it in the narrow volcanic tube. They were running out of options. The other tunnels had petered out, too small for their ship to pass through. The tunnel they followed to find this one dropped sharply down and headed too far west. If tunnel number five did not put them back on the trail, they would have to abandon ship and follow the river in a boat of their own. And between them and the passage was the yeti.

The Captain loaded a short-barreled shotgun and offered her service revolver to the frowning von Hedwigs.

“Who’s the better shot?”

“There must be another way,” Madame insisted. “In fact, I brought a few things with me that might be useful, formulations of my own.”

She had, in fact, some three dozen vials of medicines, stimulants, sedatives, and poisons, wonders of the plant kingdom concentrated by her own hand to do the most good, or the most harm.

“What I don’t have is a dart gun to deliver the sedative I want. In my distress I forgot to pack it. Either it’s still with Ulrik or it was on the children’s ship.”

“Do you have a syringe, my love?” Herr von Hedwig asked.

“Yes. I keep several in the pharmacopeia.”

“Then I will see what help I can provide,” he said. “Captain, if you might take the wheel.”

The wild and distressed creature paced the tunnel in front of them, roaring and snarling its terrible fierce face.

Captain Charette watched it, clutching her shotgun. “I wish I had room to turn her around,” she said. “That thing would be a darn sight less likely to charge my propellers.” A sudden noise, or rather the sudden lack of one spun her away from the window and towards her passengers.

“Hey! von Hedwig, what are you doing with my gyroscopic regulator?”
“I’ll put it back in a moment,” he said, “just as soon as our furry friend is asleep. I needed a belt drive and it was the smallest.”

He tested the stretch of the purloined belt, pulling it against the ends of a large ornamental coat hook he had torn off the Captain’s elegantly lacquered cabin wall. Charette stood speechless, yeti forgotten.

“Dash it, von Hedwig!” She managed at last. “Is this why they call you the Fearless Fabricator? You’re certainly not afraid to tear apart my ship!”

“There’s plenty of lacquer in Japan, dear Captain, but only one yeti that we know of.” He smiled. “And there’s a slight chance this will work. I took a few ball bearings out of your gyroscopic compass, as well.”

Madame dropped the ball bearings into a large syringe, then dropped a loaded, smaller syringe into it. “Ready, darling.”

“Excellent!” Herr von Hedwig took the modified syringe from her in exchange for a kiss, opened the hatch, and leaped onto the cave floor. The yeti roared in fury.

“Was that… was that a slingshot?”

“Yes,” Madame beamed. “In theory, the ball bearings, being heavier than the syringe, will depress the plunger and deliver the sedative. Isn’t he clever?”

“He’s mad.”

“Well, really!” Madame pushed past the Captain to watch through the fore window. “All sorts of interesting people are called that.”

The yeti’s scream filled the cavern and shook the little ship. It attacked, rushing von Hedwig, who waited until the monster was fifteen feet away, and let loose the slingshot’s load. He did not wait to see what effect, if any, his mad, makeshift weapon had on the creature. He made his shot, dropped the slingshot, and sprinted up the tunnel the way they had come. The yeti did not even break stride, but charged after him, roaring and snarling.

“There,” said Madame. “That might have worked. If you don’t mind terribly, I’ll borrow that shotgun of yours, and see if he needs any help.”

Captain Charette stared for the briefest of moments, and handed over her gun. Madame took it and jumped from the ship, running after her husband and the furious yeti. The Captain inspected the chipped lacquer wall and what remained of the gyroscopic regulator.  Then she laughed, laughed until tears slid down her apple cheeks, took up her revolver and followed.