on considerably less than half rations.

They had made, perhaps, two leagues with infinite difficulty, when
toward the middle of the afternoon they came upon a spur of the range
that ran out into the valley. Weston decided that they could probably
see some distance across the timber from the crest of it, so they
climbed up painfully. They were gasping when they reached a ledge of
rock a little below the summit, but that was not why they sat down.
Both shrank from the first momentous glimpse into the head of the
valley, for if there were no lake there they had thrown away their
toil and must drag themselves back to the settlements defeated and
broken men. It is hard to face defeat when one is young, and, perhaps,
harder still when one is old and has nothing to fall back on. Grenfell
expressed part of his thoughts when he turned to his companion.

"We shall decide the thing in a few more minutes," he said. "I suppose
we couldn't risk going on a little farther to-morrow?"

Weston shook his head resolutely, though he felt the same temptation.
It was in one sense curious that the older man should defer to him.

"No," said Weston, "we should have turned back several days ago. It
will be a tough march to reach the cache now."

Grenfell made a little gesture.

"Well," he said, "we'll go up and see."

They went up, part of the way on their hands and knees, and then,
though the slope was less steep, both of them hung back when they
neared the crest of the divide. There was still a faint probability
that their journey had not been futile, and they clung to it
desperately. Grenfell went first, and, when he reached the crest,
stood stone still with his back to Weston, who held his breath as he
scrambled after him. Then Grenfell, turning a little toward him,
suddenly flung out a pointing hand.

The head of the valley stretched away beneath them, but there was no
gleam from a lonely lake in the midst of it. From hillside to hillside
the close ranks of somber firs ran unbroken.

Weston's face grew hard and grim.

"That's the end," he said hoarsely. "There is nothing for it but to
take the back trail."

Then the strength seemed to melt out of Grenfell, and he sat down
limply.

"It was the belief that I should find that lake some day that has kept
me on my feet the last eight years," he said. "Except for that I
should have gone under long ago. Now, it's hardly likely that I shall
ever get back here again."

He turned a