tance then. He would not, however, take the rifle. Nothing
could compel him to drag himself another rod that night, he said, and
the others, who had noticed how he limped, accepted his decision. With
an expressionless face he sat down among the stones, and Charly decided
that it was Wyllard's part to pick the trail.

"You could beat me every time at trailing or shooting when we went
ashore on the American side, and I'm not sorry to let it go at that
now," he said.

Wyllard smiled grimly. "And I've carried this rifle a week on top of my
other load. You can't shoot when you're dead played out."

They called in the Indian and gave the rifle to him. He gravely pointed
to Wyllard.

Charly grinned for the first time in several days.

"Well," he remarked, "in this case I guess I've no objections to let it
be as he suggests."

Wyllard resignedly took up the rifle and strode wearily out of camp.
There was, he knew, scarcely an hour's daylight left, and already the
dimness seemed a little more marked down in the hollow. He, however,
found the place where the Indian had seen the animal's track, and as
there was a wall of rock on one side, up which he believed the beast
could not scramble, he pushed on up stream beside the ice. There was
nothing to guide him, but he was a little surprised to feel that his
perceptions, which had been dull and dazed for the last few days, were
growing clearer. He noticed the different sounds the river made, and
picked out the sharp crackle of ice among the stones, though he had
hitherto been conscious only of a hoarse, pulsating roar. The rocks also
took distinctive shapes instead of looming in blurred masses before his
heavy eyes, and he found himself gazing with strained attention into
each strip of deeper shadow. Still, though he walked cautiously, there
was no sign of any life in the ravine. He was horribly weary, and now
and then he set his lips as he stumbled noisily among the stones, but he
pushed on beside the water while the deep hollow grew dimmer and more
shadowy.

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE UNEXPECTED

After a hard tramp Wyllard felt a troublesome dizziness creeping over
him, and he sat down upon a boulder with the rifle across his knees. He
had eaten little in the last few days, which had been spent in arduous
exertion, and now the leaden weariness which he had fought against since
morning threatened to overcome him. In addition to this, he was
oppressed by a black dejection