only follow, swearing hoarsely. At each break of the trees
they would clamber down to the water's edge and look over the tumultuous
wastes, and each time the twilight was deeper, the snow flurries
heavier. And soon they came to a steep bank which they could not
descend.

"It's a death trip. I knew it was a death trip," Lounsbury moaned.
"And what's the use of going farther. They haven't a chance on earth."

They did, however, push on a short distance down the river. Lounsbury
was of the opinion it was very far indeed. In reality it was not two
hundred yards in all. And they halted once more to stare with
frightened eyes at the stream.

"It ain't the first this river's taken," Vosper told him. "And they
never even found their bodies."

"And we won't find these, now," Lounsbury replied. They waited a little
while in silence, trying to pierce the shadows. "What do you suppose
we'd better do?" he questioned.

"I don't know. What can we do?"

"There's no chance of saving them. They're gone already. No swimmer
could live in that stream. Why did we ever come--it was a wild-goose
chase at best. If they did get out they'd be lost--and couldn't find
their way. It seems to me the wisest thing for us to do is to go
back--and build a big fire--so they can find their way in if they did
get out."

It was a worthy suggestion! The voice of cowardice that had been
speaking in Lounsbury's craven soul had found expression in words at
last. He was frightened by the storm and the darkness, and he was cold
and tired, and a beacon light for the two wanderers in the storm was
only a subterfuge whereby he might justify their return to camp. The
understrapper understood, but he didn't disagree. They were two of a
kind.

It was not that they did not know their rightful course. Both were
fully aware that such a fire as they could build could only gleam a few
yards through the heavy spruce thicket. They knew that braver men would
keep watch over that dreadful river for half the night at least, calling
and searching, ready to give aid in the feeble hope that the two
exhausted swimmers might come ashore.

"Sure thing," Vosper agreed. "It'll be hard to make a good fire in the
snow, and we can't build one at all if them pack horses has got away by
now."

"You mean--we'd die?" Lounsbury's eyes protruded.

"The ax is in the pack. We wouldn't have a chance."

Lounsbury turned abruptly, scarcely able to refrain from