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.

"Mappin regrets to say that our stores have been lost in transit, and though he is trying to trace them, there may be some delay. He thinks I would like to know this at once--which looks like ironical wit. If needful, he will order a duplicate lot."

"Is it worth while to go down and see him?" Graham asked.

"I'd enjoy it," said Andrew grimly. "However, now that we have come so far, we can't waste time in going back, and I've no doubt it would be a week or two before I could get the goods. We'll have to do without them, which is unfortunate."

His anger was justified. Travel in the North, where food is scarce, is a question of transport. As the traveler must take all he needs with him, his supplies must be carefully regulated in accordance with the distance and his power of carrying them, while an error in his calculations may result in starvation. Knowing this, Carnally and Graham had considered how the weight could be cut down by the use of certain condensed foods, as well as clothing and camp equipment made to combine the greatest warmth with lightness. The goods were expensive, but their value could hardly be reckoned in money.

"Then we had better push on at once," Graham suggested. "We have the things Carnally sent up and we ought to get some provisions at the Hudson Bay factory, where I expect to hire the sledge dogs. It will add to our loads and shorten our stay, but we'll have to put up with that."

"You should have cut Mappin right out of this business," Carnally said to Andrew. "His first trick hasn't stopped us, but I feel uneasy about leaving him to handle the food we'll need when coming down."

Andrew looked grave.

"The man's treacherous; but he has gone as far as is safe already.

Taking it for granted that he wishes to prevent our finding the lode, one can understand his trying to hinder our outward journey. He would, however, gain nothing by delaying our return, and he's too clever to risk getting himself into trouble without a good reason."

"That sounds right; I can find no fault with it," Carnally agreed.

"We'll pull out to-morrow, but I'd feel easier if the making of those caches wasn't in Mappin's hands."

They left Rain Bluff the next morning and it was a week later when Mappin learned that he had failed to detain them. He had just returned to the Landing from a business visit, and was sitting in his room at the hotel when the messenger came in.

"Did Mr. Allinson seem annoyed?" he asked.

"Can't say," the man replied. "He didn't say a word to me; told Watson there was no answer, and pulled out with the other fellows next day."

"I suppose they went off with pretty heavy loads?"

"That's so. Took some of Watson's blue camp blankets, and I guess they'll soon get tired. Two of them are tenderfoots at the job."

"Carnally's a smart bushman, isn't he?"

"Sure! But he'd all he could carry."

Mappin was surprised at the turbulence of his feelings. Though of gross nature, ambition and avarice had hitherto dominated him, and he was generally marked by a cold-blooded calm. Now, however, his pa.s.sions were aroused, and he was filled with an anger which he thought must be subdued before it led him into rashness. He had done all he could to delay Allinson, and though he had failed it was not his habit to grow savage at a reverse; moreover, it was unlikely that the prospectors would get very far. For all that, he was disturbed.

Allinson, whom he had regarded with contempt as a fastidious tenderfoot, might prove a dangerous rival. That he had refrained from sending down an angry remonstrance suggested strong self-control and a suspicion of Mappin's motives. He must be careful, and must make all the progress he could with Geraldine while Allinson was away.

During the next three weeks he saw the Frobishers often, though he had undertaken an important railroad contract for which his men were cutting lumber in the bush. Geraldine treated him with a conventional politeness which misled him, for he was inexperienced in dealing with girls of her character. Indeed, except for his business capacity, Mappin was undeveloped and primitive. For all that, he felt that he was not advancing much in Geraldine's favor and he made up his mind to press his suit without delay. Allinson would be back before very long, and the provisions he would need for his return journey must shortly be sent off.

After waiting for an opportunity, he found Geraldine alone one evening in her drawing-room and sat down feeling unusually diffident as well as eager, though he forced himself to talk about matters of no importance. For one thing, the room had a disturbing effect on him. It was furnished with refined taste and all its appointments seemed stamped with its owner's personality; a faint perfume that she was fond of clung about it. All this reacted on the man, and the girl's beauty worked on his pa.s.sions.

She listened with indifference, now and then glancing toward him. He was smartly dressed, but he looked out of place--too big and gross for his surroundings. Then by degrees she grew more intent; there was a hint of strain in his voice and a gleam in his eyes which caused her vague alarm. His face was slightly flushed, he looked coa.r.s.er than usual, and when he was silent his lips set in an ugly, determined fashion. At last, when she was thinking of an excuse for leaving him, he rose.

"Geraldine," he said, "I have something to tell you."

She looked up quickly; somewhat frightened, he thought, and he was not displeased.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Is it necessary?"