turned to camp at noon. Tom of Okanagan arrived an
hour or two later, and shook his head when Seaforth glanced at him
inquiringly.

"Rock again. Right down to the river," he said.

Alton nodded, but did not ask if his companion had effected a crossing.
"There was a good deal of water coming down?" he said.

"Oh, yes," said Okanagan. "It was cold. Boulders all along on the
other side. Now if the beast got over he'll be lighting out for home,
and there are some of us better than others at picking up a trail."

Seaforth understood him, and the implication pleased him though it was
not openly expressed. "Had you any especial reason when you asked me
to go, Harry?" he asked.

Alton smiled dryly. "I had, but I don't know that it was a very good
one. You would sooner stay up here. What do you think, Tom?"

"Of course!" said Seaforth, and Alton nodded silently, while Okanagan
rose to his feet.

"Now you have asked me, Charley's right," he said. "I'll be moving
south in ten minutes."

He had set off in somewhat less, and the men he left behind stood still
listening until the sound of his footsteps had sunk into the stillness.
Then Seaforth glanced at his comrade, and Alton laughed.

"It's lonely, Charley," he said. "I don't know that you were wise, but
we'll get a move on and cache some of these provisions."

Seaforth was glad of something to do. Three had started from Somasco,
and already one had gone, while he felt a slight sense of depression as
he glanced north towards the wilderness of rock and snow their path led
into. He did not, however, tell his comrade so, and they toiled for an
hour before Alton, carefully smoothing off the soil that covered what
they had hidden, strewed it with cedar-twigs.

"Step it off, Charley; twenty paces east to the rock, with the big peak
over the shoulder of the hill," he said.

Seaforth walked straight forward with measured strides. "A foot over!"
he said.

Alton nodded. "Go back and make your traverse," he said. "Forty north
with the gully over the fork of the river."

"Forty," said Seaforth, "and a half."

"Well," said Alton, "whatever you don't remember, hold tight on to
that."

Seaforth felt the depression he had shaken off return to him. "There
are," he said slowly, "few things that you forget."

Alton, glancing at him, understood, and then turned his eyes towards
the snow of the wilderness. "It's the man that can't look forward who
gets left," he