Part 26 (1/2)

Isn't that fair?”

The plate dropped between them. Over it their hands met in a great, clutching grip, and up from Jan's heart there welled words which almost burst from his lips in voice, words which rang in his brain, and which were an unspoken prayer--”Melisse, I thank the great G.o.d that it is this man whom you love!” But it was in silence that he staggered to his feet and went out into the gloom.

”This may be only a lull in the storm,” he said. ”We must lose no time.

How long did you travel before you made this camp?”

”About ten hours,” said Dixon. ”I made due west by compa.s.s until I knew that I had pa.s.sed Lac Bain, and then struck north.”

”Ah, you have the compa.s.s,” cried Jan, his eyes lighting up. ”M'seur Dixon, we are very near to the post if you camped so soon! Tell me which is north.”

”That is north.”

”Then we go south--south and east. If you traveled ten hours, first west and then north, we are northwest of Lac Bain.”

Jan spoke no more, but got his rifle from the shelter and put only the tea and two pails in his pack; leaving the remaining blanket upon the snow. The Englishman followed close behind him, bending weakly under the weight of his gun. Tediously they struggled to the top of the ridge, and as Jan stopped to look through the gray day about him, Dixon sank down into the snow. When the other turned toward him he grinned up feebly into his face.

”Bushed,” he gasped. ”Don't believe I can make it through this snow, Th.o.r.eau.”

There was no fear in his eyes; there was even a cheerful ring in his voice.

A sudden glow leaped into Jan's face.

”I know this ridge,” he exclaimed. ”It runs within a mile of Lac Bain.

You'd better leave your rifle behind.”

Dixon made an effort to rise and Jan helped him. They went on slowly, resting every few hundred yards, and each time that he rose from these periods of rest, Dixon's face was twisted with pain.

”It's the flour and water anch.o.r.ed amids.h.i.+ps,” he smiled grimly.

”Cramps--Ugh!”

”We'll make it by supper-time,” a.s.sured Jan cheerfully.

Dixon leaned heavily on his arm.

”I wish you'd go on alone,” he urged. ”You could send help--”

”I promised Melisse that I would bring you back if I found you,”

replied Jan, his face turned away. ”If the storm broke again, you would be lost.”

”Tell me--tell me--” he heard Dixon pant eagerly, ”did she send you to hunt for me, Th.o.r.eau?”

Something in the Englishman's voice drew his eyes to him. There was an excited flush in his starved cheeks; his eyes shone.

”Did she send you?”

Jan struggled hard to speak calmly.

”Not in words, M'seur Dixon. But I know that if I get you safely back to Lac Bain she will be very happy.”