"We certainly hustled," he said with a deprecatory air. "But I've been four years at the mill and never had trouble over charging my time.

Your pay-sheet was square."

"That's so," agreed his companion. "They might have laid me off a while last summer when we ran out of logs, but Mr. Graham fixed it so I kept my job."

Andrew smiled at Graham, who looked confused.

"If you do these things, you must take the consequences; but I've met people with shorter memories."

"Anyhow, we've got here ahead of the logging crowd and I'm mighty glad," said the first packer. "Those fellows think n.o.body can break a trail unless he lives in the woods. Now you sit by quiet while we get supper."

Before the meal was ready Carnally arrived with the man who had gone to look for him, and the party feasted royally. When they had finished, Carnally sighed with deep content.

"I just don't want to move," he remarked. "I feel most too good to talk; but if the rest of you have anything to say, I'll try to listen."

"What's your program?" one of the men asked. "We have food enough to take us down, going easy."

"I want two days' rest," said Andrew. "Until they're up, we'll do nothing but eat and lie about the fire and smoke."

Carnally looked up lazily.

"That sounds nice, but I'm going to locate Mappin's cache before we start."

The others began to talk to Graham, but Andrew did not know how long they continued, for he was soon fast asleep.

They broke camp on the third morning and when they crossed the neck Carnally divided the party, which had been joined by the loggers. Some he told to follow down one or two ravines at a distance, which he had not searched, and then meet the others, who would work along the ridge. Toward evening a man hailed him and Andrew from a slope some way off, and when they joined him he led them into a deep hollow. In the middle of it a small, barked fir projected from a snowy mound.

"It's the kind of place you'd break a trail up if you were trying to make the neck," the packer explained.

"It looks a good road from here," Carnally a.s.sented. "We didn't get so far along, but we'll climb up a piece."

The hollow died out into a snow slope, and when they had walked on farther they lost sight of it. Then Carnally stopped and carefully looked about.

"We might have struck that gulch first shot, but the chances were against it; you can only see it from below. You want to remember that the line the fellows who made the cache would take would depend on where they left the big loop of the lower river. Mappin was smart enough to see that. Now we'll have a look at the provisions."

They proved to be sufficient in quant.i.ty and in excellent order when the cache was opened; but Carnally had expected that.

"I wonder how Mappin will feel when he sees us come marching in?"

Andrew said lightly. They could laugh now.

"Not very comfortable, I'll promise you!" Carnally declared with a glint in his eyes.

CHAPTER XXI

A BUSHMAN'S SATISFACTION

Andrew reached the Landing physically exhausted and troubled by a heavy depression. The long-continued strain had left its mark on him, for, having proposed the expedition, he felt responsible for the safety of his friends; and his strength and endurance deserted him shortly after the arrival of the rescue party. Relief had been followed by a severe reaction, which left him limp and nerveless; and the homeward march proved long and toilsome. As they had food, there was no longer the same necessity for haste, but the rigor of the weather forced the men to push on as fast as possible, and Andrew found it difficult to emulate his rescuers' pace. Moreover, he was seriously troubled about Graham, whose foot appeared to be getting worse, and he was deeply disappointed with the result of his search.

He had found the lode, but, so far as he had been able to test it, the ore did not promise much.

Dusk was falling when they saw the lights of the settlement, and as they pa.s.sed the first house a man greeted them. After a word or two, he ran on ahead; and the party, following slowly, worn with the march, found most of the inhabitants gathering in the street. Eager helpers took their packs from them and seized the traces of the sled; questions and congratulations were showered on them, and, to Andrew's annoyance, they entered the town in a triumphal procession. He was plodding along, too tired and listless to notice the remarks of the curious and sympathetic crowd, when Carnally touched his arm.

"You can go straight to the hotel," he said. "I'll take Graham home."

"No," said Andrew firmly; "that's my business and it can't be shirked.

You might send the doctor."

Carnally disappeared among the crowd and Andrew went on, shrinking from the meeting with his comrade's wife, though when the time came he found it less trying than he had feared. As they turned into a side street there was a shout:

"Make room; let her pa.s.s! It's Mrs. Graham!"

The men in the traces stopped and Graham spoke to them.

"You might help me up, boys."

They got him on his feet and fell back as a woman hurried toward him.

She flung her arms about his neck and it was several moments before she saw Andrew.

"We have brought him back, but I'm afraid he's a little the worse for wear," he said.

"You have brought him back!" she cried. "That is the greatest thing."

Graham walked along with her for a few yards, and then stopped, his face contorted.

"If you don't mind, I'll finish the journey on the sled. My foot's rather sore."

When they reached his house, he insisted on getting up, and after telling Andrew to follow, limped in unhelped, but he sat down heavily on a couch.

"I suppose this moccasin had better come off now, though it's going to give me trouble," he said with a rueful smile.

"No," advised Andrew, "not until the doctor comes; he should be here directly. I'd like to see him, Mrs. Graham, but you'll want to talk to your husband. May I wait in the other room?"

She let him go and he spent an anxious half-hour. He heard the doctor arrive and Mrs. Graham hurry about the house--getting water and bandages, he thought. Then there was silence for a while, until the doctor entered the room where he was sitting.

"His foot's in a very bad state," he reported. "There's some risk of mortification, though I think it can be averted. I'll be able to tell you more in a day or two."

"Do you know of any surgeon in Winnipeg or Toronto you would like to bring out?"

"There's a good man in Winnipeg, which is much nearer. On the whole, it might be advisable to get his opinion."

"Then wire for him," said Andrew, "and send for a trained nurse if one can be had."

The doctor left and Andrew rose as Mrs. Graham came in.

"I'm afraid you'll find it hard to forgive me," he said.