where a candle flickered and a stove roared. Grant
was holding something hot to his lips, and then--

It was morning. He was weak and sick; he felt as if he had awakened from
a hideous dream. "I played out, didn't I?" he queried, wonderingly.

"You sure did," Grant laughed. "It was a tight squeak, old boy. I never
thought I'd get you through."

"Played out! I--can't understand it." Cantwell prided himself on his
strength and stamina, therefore the truth was unbelievable. He and Mort
had long been partners, they had given and taken much at each other's
hands, but this was something altogether different. Grant had saved his
life, at risk of his own; the older man's endurance had been the greater
and he had used it to good advantage. It embarrassed Johnny tremendously
to realize that he had proved unequal to his share of the work, for he
had never before experienced such an obligation. He apologized
repeatedly during the few days he lay sick, and meanwhile Mort waited
upon him like a mother.

Cantwell was relieved when at last they had abandoned camp, changed
guides at the next village, and were on their way along the coast, for
somehow he felt very sensitive about his collapse. He was, in fact,
extremely ashamed of himself.

Once he had fully recovered he had no further trouble, but soon rounded
into fit condition and showed no effects of his ordeal. Day after day he
and Mort traveled through the solitudes, their isolation broken only by
occasional glimpses of native villages, where they rested briefly and
renewed their supply of dog feed.

But although the younger man was now as well and strong as ever, he was
uncomfortably conscious that his trail mate regarded him as the weaker
of the two and shielded him in many ways. Grant performed most of the
unpleasant tasks, and occasionally cautioned Johnny about overdoing.
This protective attitude at first amused, then offended Cantwell, it
galled him until he was upon the point of voicing his resentment, but
reflected that he had no right to object, for, judging by past
performances, he had proved his inferiority. This uncomfortable
realization forever arose to prevent open rebellion, but he asserted
himself secretly by robbing Grant of his self-appointed tasks. He rose
first in the mornings, he did the cooking, he lengthened his turns
ahead of the dogs, he mended harness after the day's hike had ended. Of
course the older man objected, and for a time they had a good-nat