Part 32 (1/2)

At noon the next day they reached the head of the valley. It was still raining, and heavy mists obscured the summits of the hills, but above the lower slopes of rock glimmering snow ran up into the woolly vapor. There were firs, a few balsams and hemlocks, but no sign of a spruce.

”Now,” Carroll commented dryly, ”perhaps you'll be satisfied.”

Vane smiled. He was no nearer to owning himself defeated than he had been when they first set out.

”We know there's no spruce in this valley--and that's something,” he replied. ”When we come back again we'll try the next one.”

”It has cost us a good deal to make sure of the fact”

Vane's expression changed.

”We haven't ascertained the cost just yet. As a rule, you don't make up the bill until you're through with the undertaking; and it may be a longer one than either of us think. Well, we might as well turn upon our tracks.”

Carroll recalled this speech afterward. Just then, however, he hitched his burden a little higher on his aching shoulders as he plodded after his comrade down the rain-swept hollow. They had good cause to remember the march to the inlet. It rained most of the while and their clothes were never dry; parts of them, indeed, flowed in tatters about their aching limbs, and before they had covered half the distance, their boots were dropping to pieces. What was more important, their provisions were rapidly running out, and they marched on a few handfuls of food, carefully apportioned, twice daily. At last they lay down hungry, with empty bags, one night, to sleep shelterless in the rain, for they had thrown their tent away. Carroll had some difficulty in getting on his feet the next morning.

”I believe I can hold out until sundown, though I'm far from sure of it,” he said. ”You'll have to leave me behind if we don't strike the inlet then.”

”We'll strike it in the afternoon,” Vane a.s.sured him.

They reslung their packs and set out wearily. Carroll, limping and stumbling along, was soon troubled by a distressful st.i.tch in his side.

He managed to keep pace with Vane, however, and some time after noon a twinkling gleam among the trees caught their eye. Then the shuffling pace grew faster, and they were breathless when at last they stopped and dropped their burdens beside the boat. It was only at the third or fourth attempt that they got her down to the water, and the veins were swollen high on Vane's flushed forehead when he sat down, panting heavily, on her gunwale.

”We ran her up quite easily, though we had the slope to face then,”

he remarked.

”You could scarcely expect to carry boats about without trouble after a march like the one we've made!”

They ran her in and pulled off to the sloop. When at last they sat down in the little saloon, Vane got a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

”I knew you looked a deadbeat,” he laughed, ”but I'd no idea I was quite so bad. Anyhow, we'll get the stove lighted and some dry things on. The next question is--what shall we have for supper?”

”That's easy. Everything that's most tempting, and the whole of it.”

Shortly afterward they flung their boots and rent garments overboard and sat down to a feast. The plates were empty when they rose, and in another hour both of them were wrapped in heavy slumber.

CHAPTER XVIII

JESSY CONFERS A FAVOR

The next morning it was blowing fresh from the southeast, which was right ahead, and Vane's face was hard when he and Carroll got the boat on deck and set about tying down two reefs in the mainsail.

”Bad luck seems to follow us,” he grumbled.

Carroll smiled.

”There's no doubt of that; but I suppose the fact won't have much effect on you.”