of my time in
the country, though I make a few sporting trips abroad when I can afford
it and have nothing better to do. That partly explains this journey. But
I haven't tried to force your confidence, nor offered you mine,
altogether casually."

"So I supposed," returned Lisle. "It strikes me that since we got near
the Gladwyne expedition's line of march we have both felt that some
explanation is needed. To go back a little, when I met you in Victoria
and you offered to join me in the trip, I agreed partly because I wanted
an intelligent companion, but I had another reason. At first I supposed
you wished to go because a journey through a rough and little-known
country seems to appeal to one kind of Englishman, but I changed my mind
when you showed your anxiety to get upon the Gladwyne party's trail."

"You were right. I knew the Gladwynes in England; the one who died was an
old and valued friend of mine. I could give you the history of their
march, though I hardly think that's needful. You seem remarkably well
acquainted with it."

Lisle's face hardened. With the exception of one man, he knew more than
anybody else about the fatal journey a party of four had made a year
earlier through the region he and Nasmyth were approaching.

"I am," he said. "There's a cause for it; but I'll ask you to tell me
what you know."

He threw more branches on the fire and a crackling blaze sprang aloft,
forcing up the ragged spruce boughs out of the surrounding gloom.

"This is the survivor's narrative. I heard it from his own lips more than
once," began Nasmyth. "I dare say most of it's a kind of story that's not
unusual in the North."

"It's one that has been repeated with local variations over and over
again. But go on."

"There were two Gladwynes--cousins. George, the elder of the two, was a man
of means and position; Clarence, the younger, had practically nothing--two
or three hundred pounds a year. They were both sportsmen--George was a bit
of a naturalist--and they made the expedition with the idea of studying the
scarcer game. Well, their provisions were insufficient; an Indian packer
deserted them; they were delayed here and there; and when they reached the
river that we are making for they were badly worn out and winter was
closing in. Knowing it was dangerous to go any farther, they started
down-stream to strike their outgoing trail, but not long afterward they
wrecked their canoe in a rapid and lost everything except