ound in the coldest parts of North America.
Seems to me we have tried all the varieties of the firs, but we're as
far from finding what we want as when we started."
"Hard luck!" Benson remarked gloomily.
Harding broke off a fragment and lighted it. "Notice the smell. It's
characteristic."
"The fellow may have been right on one point," said Blake. "When I was
in India I once got some incense which was brought down in small
quantities from the Himalayas, and, I understood, came from near the
snow-line. The smell was the same, one doesn't forget a curious scent."
"That's so. Talking about it reminds me that I was puzzled by a smell
I thought I ought to know when I brought Clarke out of the tepee. I
remembered what it was not long since and the thing's significant. It
was gasoline."
"They extract it from crude petroleum, don't they."
"Yes; it's called petrol on your side. Clarke's out for coal-oil, and
I guess he's struck it."
"Then he's lucky, but his good fortune doesn't concern us and we have
other things to think about. What are you going to do, now we don't
seem able to find the gum?"
"It's a difficult question," Harding answered in a troubled voice.
"I'd hate to go back, with nothing accomplished and all my dollars
spent, and take to the road again. Marianna's paying for this journey
in many ways, and I haven't the grit to tell her we're poorer than when
I left. She wouldn't complain, but when you have to live on a small
commission that's hard to make, it's the woman who meets the bill."
Blake made a sign of sympathy. He had never shared Harding's
confidence in the success of his search and had joined in it from love
of adventure and a warm liking for his comrade.
"Well," he said, "I've no means except a small allowance which is so
tied up that it's difficult to borrow anything upon it, but it's at
your disposal as far as it goes. Suppose we keep this prospecting up."
"If Clarke's mortgage doesn't stop me, I might raise a few dollars on
my farm," Benson remarked. "I'll throw them in with pleasure, because
I'm pretty deep in your debt."
"Thanks," said Harding. "I'm sorry I can't agree, but I wouldn't take
your offer when you first made it, and I can't do so now my plan's a
failure. Anyway, we're doing some useless talking, because I don't see
how we're to go on prospecting or get south again when we have only
three or four days' food in hand."
He stated an unpleasant truth w
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