Part 25 (1/2)
Carnally drawled. ”But how do you like your moccasins?”
”They're comfortable; the American shoe people have made them well; but I'm not sure they'll last the journey through. It's lucky we have some spare pairs among the provisions Mappin has sent up.”
”It might have been better if we'd hired two or three boys at the Landing and packed the truck up along with us,” Carnally remarked.
”Mappin engaged to forward the things. It's his business.”
Carnally looked unconvinced.
”I never deal with a man who's not straight if I can help it. You can't tell when he may go back on you, unless you can fix it so that his interest is the same as yours; and you and Mappin don't agree.”
”That's a fact,” Andrew admitted. ”However, we'll soon find out about the provisions.”
He forced the pace, but it slackened again. He was tired; the red glare, which grew more lurid, hurt his eyes, and he was thankful when it suddenly faded, leaving the wilderness wrapped in soft blue shadow.
The pack-straps galled his shoulders, his fur-cap was thick with rime, and its fringe of frosted hair stung his forehead. They came to a narrow reach where the stream ran fast and the ice was thrown up in ragged hummocks. It was difficult to pick their way in the dim light; they slipped and stumbled, breaking through the treacherous snow bridges between the blocks; and when they came out upon a better surface it was dark. Shadowy firs rose about them; here and there an ice-crusted rock showed above the gray level of the stream. Except for their soft footsteps there was a deathly silence. Graham was now some distance behind them, and after a while he made protest.
”Hold on!” he cried. ”I'm not toughened up to your mark yet.”
Andrew was glad to wait for him, though the frost bit keenly when he stopped and he was anxious to finish the long day's march. The ranks of stunted pines looked inexpressibly dreary looming out of the darkness, and, fatigued as he was, the savagery of the surrounding desolation oppressed him. They would reach warmth and shelter in another hour, but when they went on again Andrew thought with a heavy heart of the leagues of travel through the grim solitudes of the frozen North. Up there, their only resting-place would be a hollow behind a rock or a trench scooped out of the snow. Still, he was not daunted. He had undertaken a big thing, and he meant to carry it out.
At last a twinkle of light showed among the trees, and when they approached one of the shacks at the mine the door opened and a dark figure appeared against the brightness of the interior.
”Is that you, Watson?” Andrew asked. ”Has Mappin sent up some provisions for us?”
”Nothing has turned up lately except some tools,” Watson answered.
”But come right in.”
They entered the shack, which for the first few minutes felt intolerably hot.
”Did those tools come in cases with a Toronto freight tag?” Carnally asked.
”They did,” said Watson.
Carnally looked at Andrew.
”That's what misled me. I found out the cases had left the Landing and thought they held our truck. What I wasn't sure about was whether they'd reach here.”
”The provisions haven't come, and a day or two's rest will do us good,” Andrew replied. ”I suppose the fellow will send some explanation.”
”That's certain. He won't want you to go down and look him up; you'll get word from him before long. Whether you'll get your provisions or not is another matter.”
”Let it drop,” Andrew advised; and soon afterward they sat down to supper. In an hour or two they were all asleep; but the next day pa.s.sed before they heard anything about the missing supplies. They were sitting round the stove in the evening when Watson came in with a letter.
”One of Mappin's boys has brought you this,” he said.
Andrew opened it and looked up with a frown.
”No answer. Let him go back when he likes.”
When Watson left them he turned to the others.