ouver, in Canada, going on for a
year ago."

It took him some time to make his errand clear, and then Overweg looked
at him in a rather curious fashion.

"It is," he said, "a tale that in these days one finds some little
difficulty in believing. Still, it must be admitted that I am
acquainted with one fact which appears to substantiate it."

Then as he saw the blood rise to Wyllard's forehead he broke off with a
little soft laugh.

"My friend," he added, "is it permitted to offer you my felicitations?
The men who would attempt a thing of this kind are, I think, singularly
rare."

"The fact?" said Wyllard, impatiently.

"There is a Kamtchadale in my base camp who told me of a place where a
white man was buried some distance to the west of us. He spoke of a
second white man, but nobody, I understand, knows what became of him."

Wyllard straightened himself suddenly. "You will send for that
Kamtchadale?"

"Assuredly. The tale you have told me has stirred my curiosity. As my
path lies west up the river valley, we can, if it pleases you, go on
for a while together."

Wyllard, who thanked him, turned to Charly with a faint sigh of relief.

"It seems that we shall not bring those men back, but I think we may
find out where they lie," he said. Charly made no comment, for this
was the most he had expected, and a few minutes later there was silence
in the little tent when the men lay down to sleep among the skins.

They started at sunrise next morning, and followed the river slowly by
easy stages until the man sent back to Overweg's base camp overtook
them with another Kamtchadale. Then they pushed on still further
inland, and it was a week later when one evening their guide led them
up to a little pile of stones upon a lonely ridge of rock. There were
two letters very rudely cut on one of them, and Wyllard, who stooped
down beside it, took off his cap when he rose.

"There's no doubt that Jake Leslie lies here," he said, and looked at
Overweg. "Your man is sure it was only one white man who buried him?"

Overweg spoke to the Kamtchadale, who answered him.

"There was only one white man," he said. "It seems he went inland
afterwards--at least a year ago."

Then Wyllard turned to Charly, and his face was very grave. "That
makes it certain that two of them have died. There was one left, and
he may be dead by this time." He spread his hands out with a forceful
gesture. "If one only knew!"

Charly m