Part 29 (1/2)

Carnally glanced at Andrew, who had thrown off his pack and sat down on it in an att.i.tude of exhaustion.

”Allinson allowed we'd be back to-night, and he hustled me along pretty lively for a tenderfoot.”

They laughed at this and began the meal which Graham soon had ready.

Then, sitting close beside the fire, they filled their pipes and Graham carefully examined the bits of stone Carnally produced. He poised them in his hands, because the weight is a rough test, before he looked up.

”What do you think of them, Jake?” he asked.

”My idea is that they're pretty good, though they are not carrying a remarkable quant.i.ty of metal. Of course, we may have struck only the edge of the lode. There wasn't time to find how it ran.”

Graham sat silent a while, and then turned to Andrew with a strained expression.

”I agree with Carnally. So far as I can judge, these specimens are not very rich, though the ore might pay for reduction. That I feel disappointed after waiting twenty years for this chance doesn't need saying; but I've brought you here at a big expense and risk and I can't blame you if you let the matter drop.”

”Nothing is farther from my mind,” declared Andrew, smiling. ”It's unpleasant to feel beaten; and I'm partly responsible for our failure by confiding in Mappin. If you and Carnally still think I'm to be trusted as a partner, we'll come back again, though I'd prefer waiting until the ice breaks up in the spring.”

Graham's relief carried him away.

”I'd trust you with my life, Allinson! It's hard to express what I feel, but I've got to talk. If we had failed to find the lode, I'd have gone home, content, I think, to forget it; but to have struck it and got no farther would have been maddening! The thing would have haunted me for the rest of my days; but I hardly expect any one would have put up the money for another search. I can see myself hanging round mining men's offices, laughed and sneered at, neglecting my work until the sawmill people turned me out--they'll tell you at the Landing that I'm a crank. But the silver's there, Allinson! You have only to look for it!”

”We'll have a good try,” Andrew promised cheerfully. ”But the first thing we have to do is to get home, and I'm afraid it won't be easy. I wish the Hudson Bay factory weren't so far off.”

They discussed their return, Graham declaring that his foot was much better and that he ought to have no difficulty in keeping up with them, and soon afterward they went to sleep.

At daybreak they set off in a haze of driving snow, and Andrew long remembered the march with a shudder. There was only one thing in their favor--the raging wind which drove the loose snow in clouds along the frozen creeks blew behind them. The cold was intense; even when no snow fell the light was dim; but they stumbled on, making the best progress they could. On the second day out Graham sat down among the willows on an island trying to alter the fastenings of his snow-shoe.

Carnally, turning back with Andrew through a cloud of drifting flakes glanced sharply at the sitting man.

”Ah!” he said, indicating a broad smear on his moccasin; ”that's fresh and bigger than before.”

”Broken out again,” said Graham, curtly. ”There's no use in talking about it. I can't nurse it now.”

”Can you walk?” Andrew asked.

”I'll have to,” Graham answered, getting up.

The truth of this was obvious, for the alternative was to freeze to death. He managed to keep up with the others, though Carnally slackened the pace all the afternoon. When they camped at nightfall, Graham would not let him examine his foot.

”If the moccasin comes off, I'll never get it on again,” he declared.

After this, the distance traversed daily was reduced and rations were cut down to match. One day when the wind raged behind them, they made fourteen miles along a frozen creek; but more often they made eight or nine; and part of the time Graham carried his snowshoes and limped in his moccasins. His companions helped him as much as they could over the roughest ground; but the only effectual way of a.s.sisting a crippled man is to carry him, which they could not do. Their faces grew sterner and gaunter, but with grim restraint they husbanded the rapidly running out provisions, and one bl.u.s.tering morning they came upon the sled they had left on their outward journey, half covered with snow.

The traces, though frozen hard, were still attached to it, and Andrew slipped them over his shoulders when Graham, wrapped in all their blankets, sat down on the sled. It was a relief to get rid of their loads, and for a while Andrew made a moderate pace. The wind had hardened the surface of the snow, and the runners slid along easily, but he found it different when he came to the next ascent. The trace hurt his chest, the weight he was hauling seemed to increase, his breathing got harder, his knees and shoulders ached.

”You had better let me have hold,” Carnally suggested.

”I'll get off,” said Graham. ”I could hobble along if you fixed the back posts so I could lean on them.”

”Stay where you are!” Carnally bade him curtly. ”We have to make good time and we're going faster with you on the sled.”