"I don't suppose the explanation is that Clarke has some conscience,
and feels that he has robbed him enough."

Harding laughed.

"He has about as much pity as a hungry wolf; in fact, to my mind, he's
the more dangerous brute, because I've a feeling that he delights in
doing harm. There's something cruel about the man; getting fired out
of his profession must have warped his nature. Then there was another
point that struck me--why's he going so far to stay with those Indians?"

"It's puzzling," Blake answered thoughtfully. "He hinted that he was
interested in their superstitions, and I think there was some truth in
it. Meddling with these things seems to have a fascination for
neurotic people, and as the fellow's a sensualist he may find some form
of indulgence that wouldn't be tolerated near the settlements. All
this, however, doesn't quite seem to account for the thing."

"I've another idea," said Harding. "Clarke's known as a crank, and he
takes advantage of it to cover his doings. At first, I thought of the
whisky trade; but taking up prohibited liquor would hardly be worth his
while; though I dare say he has some with him to be used for gaining
his Indian friends' good will. He's on the trail of something, and
it's probably minerals. What the prospector told us suggested it to
me."

"You may be right. Anyway, it doesn't seem to concern us."

"Well," said Harding gravely, "I'm troubled about his leaving Benson
alone. The fellow had some good reason--I wish I knew."

He rose to throw more wood on the fire, and they changed the subject.

CHAPTER X

THE MUSKEG

A fortnight later the party entered a hollow between two low ranges.
The hills receded as they progressed, the basin widened and grew more
difficult to traverse, for the ground was boggy and thickly covered
with small, rotting pines. Every here and there some had fallen and
lay in tangles among pools of mire. A sluggish creek wound through the
hollow and the men had often to cross it; and as they plodded through
the morass they found their loads intolerably heavy. Still, Clarke's
directions had plainly indicated this valley as their road, and they
stubbornly pushed on, camping where they could find a dry spot.

They were wet to the waist, and their temper began to give way under
the strain. When they lay down in damp clothes beside the fire at
nights, Blake was annoyed to find his sleep disturbed by a touch of
malarial fever