CHAPTER XVII

VANE POSTPONES THE SEARCH.

When Vane rose early next morning, there was frost in the air, and when breakfast was ready the men ate hastily, eager for the exertion that would put a little warmth into them.

"We had it a good deal colder on other trips; I suppose I've been getting luxurious, since I seem to resent it now," said Vane. "There's no doubt that winter's beginning earlier than I expected up here; As soon as you can strike the tent, we'll move on."

The valley grew wilder and more rugged as they proceeded. In places, its bottom was filled with muskegs, cumbered with half-submerged, decaying trunks of fallen trees; and when they could not spring from one falling log to another they sank in slime and water to the knee. They entered transverse valleys, and after hours of exhausting labour, abandoned the search of each in turn and plodded back to the one they had been following. Their boots and clothing suffered; their packs were rent upon their backs, and, since men engaged in such work must be generously fed, their provisions diminished rapidly.

At length, one lowering afternoon, they were brought to a standstill by the river, which forked into two branches, one of which came foaming out on a cleft in the rocks. This would have mattered less had it flowed across the level; but just there it had scored itself out a deep hollow, from which the roar of its turmoil rose in long reverberations. Carroll, who was aching all over, stood upon the brink, and first of all gazed ahead. He surmised from the steady ascent and the contours of the hills that the valley was dying out, and that they should reach the head of it in another day's journey. The higher summits, however, were veiled in leaden mist, and there was a sting in the cold breeze that blew down the hollow and set the ragged firs wailing. Then he glanced dubiously at the dim, green water, which swirled in deep eddies and boiled in white confusion among the fangs of rock sixty or seventy feet below. Not far away the stream was wider and he supposed in consequence shallower, though it ran furiously.

"It doesn't look encouraging, and we have no more food left than will take us back to the sloop if we're economical," he said. "Do you think it's worth while going on?"

"I haven't a doubt about it," Vane declared. "We ought to reach the head of the valley and get back here in two or three days."

"Three days will make a big hole in the provisions."

"Then we'll have to put up with short rations," Vane rejoined.

"If you're determined, we may as well get on."

He stepped cautiously over the edge of the descent, and went down a few yards with a run, while loosened soil and stones slipped away under him. Then he clutched a slender tree, and proceeded as far as the next on his hands and knees. After that, it was necessary to swing himself over a ledge, and he was on the whole astonished when he alighted safely on one below, from which he could scramble down to the narrow strip of gravel between rock and water. He was standing, breathless, looking at the latter, when Vane joined him. The stones dipped sharply, and two or three large boulders, ringed about with froth, rose near the middle of the stream, which seemed to be running slacker on the other side of them.

There was nothing to show how deep it was, but Carroll braced himself for an effort and sturdily plunged in.

Two steps took him up to the waist, and he had trouble in finding solid bottom at the next, because the gravel rolled and slipped away beneath his feet in the strong stream. The current also dragged hard at his limbs, and he set his lips tight when it crept up to his ribs. Then he lost his footing, and was washed away, plunging and floundering, with now and then one toe resting momentarily upon the bottom, until he was hurled against the first of the boulders with a crash that almost drove the little remaining breath out of his body. He clung to it desperately, gasping hard; and then with a determined struggle contrived to reach the second stone, against which the stream pressed him, without finding any support for his feet. A moment or two later, Vane was washed down towards him, and grabbing at the boulder held on by it. They said nothing to each other, but they looked at the sliding water between them and the opposite bank. Carroll was getting horribly cold, and felt the power ebbing out of him; he thought if he must swim across he had better do so at once.

Launching himself forward, he felt the flood lap his breast, but as his arms went in he struck something violently with one leg and found that he could stand up on a submerged ledge. This carried him a yard or two, and though he stepped over the end of the ledge into deeper water, he reached a strip of shelving shingle, up which he staggered. Vane overtook him, and they scrambled up the slope ahead, which was a little less steep than the one they had descended. The work warmed them slightly, and they needed it, but as they strode on again, keeping to the foot of the hillside where the timber was less dense, a cold rain drove into their faces. It grew steadily thicker; the straps began to gall their wet shoulders, and their saturated clothing clung heavily about their limbs. In spite of this, they went on until nightfall, when it was difficult to make a fire, and after a reduced supper found a little humid warmth in their wet blankets.

The next day's work was much the same, only that they crossed no rivers and it rained harder; and, when evening came, Carroll, who had burst one boot, was limping badly. They made camp among the dripping firs which partly sheltered them from the bitter wind, and shortly after supper both fell asleep.

At evening next day they reached the head of the valley. It was still raining and heavy mists obscured the summits of the hills, but above the lower slopes of rocks glimmering snow ran up into the vapour. There were a few balsams and hemlocks about them, but no sign of a spruce.

"Now," said Carroll, "I expect you'll be satisfied."

Vane was no nearer to owning himself defeated than he had been when they first set out. "We know there's no spruce in this valley; and that's something," he replied. "When we come back again we'll try the next one."

"It has cost us a good deal to make sure of the fact."

Vane's expression changed. "We haven't ascertained the cost just yet. As a rule, you don't make up the bill until you're through with the undertaking; and it may be a longer one than either of us think. Now we'll turn upon our tracks."

Carroll recalled his speech afterwards, but just then he only hitched his burden a little higher on his aching shoulders as he plodded after his comrade down the rain-swept hollow, and he had good cause to remember the march to the inlet. It rained most of the way, and their clothes were never dry; parts of them, indeed, flowed in tatters about their aching limbs, and before they had covered half the distance their boots were dropping to pieces. What was more important, their provisions were rapidly running out, and they marched on a few handfuls of food, carefully apportioned twice daily. At last one night they lay down hungry, with empty bags, to sleep shelterless in the rain, for they had thrown their tent away; and Carroll had some difficulty in getting on his feet next morning.

"I believe I can hold out until sundown, though I'm far from sure of it," he said. "You'll have to leave me behind if we don't strike the inlet then."

"We'll strike it in the afternoon," Vane assured him.

They set out as soon as they had reslung their packs, and Carroll limped and stumbled. He managed, however, to keep pace with Vane, and some time after noon the latter cried out as a twinkling gleam among the trees caught his eye. Then the shuffling pace grew faster, and they were breathless when at last they stopped and dropped their burdens beside the boat. It was only at the third or fourth attempt they got her down to the water, and the veins were swollen high on Vane's flushed forehead when at last he sat down, panting heavily, on her gunwale.

"We ran her up quite easily, though we had the slope to face then," he remarked.

"You could scarcely expect to carry boats about without trouble, after a march like the one we've made," Carroll pointed out.

They ran her in and pulled off to the sloop. When they sat down in the little saloon, in which there was a mirror, Vane grinned.

"I knew you looked a deadbeat, but I'd no idea I was quite so bad," he said. "Anyhow, we'll get the stove lighted and some dry things on. The next question is--what shall we have for supper?"

"That's simple," Carroll answered. "Everything that's most tempting and the whole of it."

Some little time later, they flung their boots and rent garments overboard and sat down to a feast. The plates were empty when they rose, and in another hour both of them were wrapped in heavy slumber.