hem.

They were not greatly reassured, because Jake's idea of what was really
bad was alarming. Nasmyth glanced at his companion with a smile.

"Is it any better than this?" he asked.

"A little," answered Jake. "An old trail runs in."

"Gladwyne's trail?" exclaimed Nasmyth. "The one we're looking for?"

"Why, yes," drawled Jake, as if it were scarcely worth mentioning. "I
guess it is."

Nasmyth turned to Lisle.

"I was lucky when I lighted on you as a companion for this trip. You have
been right in your predictions all along, and now you're only out in
striking the trail a day before you expected."

"I know the bush," returned Lisle. "It's been pretty easy so far--but,
for several reasons, I wish the next week or two were over."

Nasmyth looked troubled. One could have imagined that misgivings which
did not concern his personal safety were creeping into his mind.

"So do I," he confessed, and turning toward the fire he busied himself
with Jake's supper.

There was no change in the work the next morning, but in the afternoon it
became evident that another party had made that portage ahead of them.
The soil was a little drier and where the small trees grew more thickly
they could see that a passage had been laboriously cleared. In the swampy
hollows, which still occurred, trunks had here and there been flung into
the ooze. This saved them some trouble and they made better progress, but
both Lisle and Nasmyth became silent and grave as the signs of their
predecessors' march grew plainer. By nightfall they had reached the
second camping-place, which told an eloquent story of struggle with
fatigue and exhaustion. Lisle, stopping in the gathering dusk, glanced
around the old camp site.

"A good place to pitch the tent, but I think I'd rather move on a
little," he said.

Nasmyth made a sign of comprehension.

"Yes," he agreed. "I couldn't sleep soundly here. Everything about us is
too plain a reminder; I've no doubt you feel it as I do. A firm and
trusted friend lay, famishing, beside that fire, in what extremity of
weakness and suffering I dare not let myself think. It's possible he cut
those branches yonder."

Lisle's face expressed emotion sternly held in check.

"That was Vernon's work--no Englishman new to the country could have
slashed them off so cleanly. But look at this small spruce stump. He was
the better chopper, but it's significant that he used three or four
strokes where I would have taken o