ile came
over Clarke's face. Blake had firmly declined to be influenced by his
hints; but Clarke had half expected that, and he had learned enough
about the young man's character to clear the ground for a plan that had
formed and grown in his clever mind.

CHAPTER VIII

TROUBLE

Darkness was settling down over the edge of the timber belt that cuts
off the prairie from the desolate barrens. In the fading light the
straggling wood wore a dreary, forbidding look. The spruces were
gnarled and twisted by the wind, a number of them were dead, and many
leaned unsymmetrically athwart each other.

Blake and Harding found no beauty in the scene as they wearily led two
packhorses through the thin, scattered trees, with Benson lagging a
short distance behind. They had spent some time crossing a wide
stretch of rolling country dotted with clumps of poplar and birch,
which was still sparsely inhabited; and now they were compelled to pick
their way among fallen branches and patches of muskeg, for the ground
was marshy and their feet sank among the withered needles.

Blake checked his pony and waited until Benson came up. The man moved
with a slack heaviness, and his face was worn and tense. He was tired
with the journey, for excess had weakened him, and now the lust for
drink which he had stubbornly fought had grown overwhelming.

"I can go no faster. Push on and I'll follow your tracks," he said in
a surly tone. "It takes time to get into condition, and I haven't
walked much for several years."

"Neither have I," Harding answered cheerfully. "I'm more used to
riding in elevators and streetcars, but this sort of thing soon makes
you fit."

"You're not troubled with my complaint," Benson grumbled; and when
Blake started the pony, he deliberately dropped behind.

"He's in a black mood; we'll leave him to himself," Harding advised.
"So far he's braced up better than I expected; when a man's been
tanking steadily, it's pretty drastic to put him through the total
deprivation cure."

"I wonder," Blake said thoughtfully, "whether it is a cure; we have
both seen men who made some effort to save themselves go down. Though
I'm a long way from being a philanthropist, I hate this waste of good
material. Perhaps it's partly an economic objection, because I used to
get savage in India when any of the Tommies' lives were thrown away by
careless handling."

"It was your soldiers' business to be made use of, wasn't it?"