lake, looking out from behind a slab of rock in the
shelter of which a few junipers clung, thought that three or four miles
would be the longest distance that he could see. This was peculiarly
unfortunate, because an Indian trapper whom they had met two days
before had told them that their course led across a wide untimbered
stretch, on the opposite side of which one or two isolated bluffs would
indicate the neighborhood of the factory. Disastrous consequences
might follow the missing of these woods.

A pannikin of weak tea made from leaves which already had been twice
infused stood among the embers; and Benson was leaning over a log,
dividing the last of the meat. He held up a small piece.

"I had thought of saving this, but it hardly seems worth while," he
said. "If we make the factory tonight, we'll get a good supper."

"You don't mention what will happen if we miss it," Harding commented
with grim humor. "Anyway, that piece of meat won't make much
difference. What do you think, Blake?"

Blake forced a cheerful laugh.

"Put it all in; we're going to make the post; as a matter of fact, we
have to! How's the leg this morning?"

"I don't think it's worse than it was last night," Harding answered.
"If I'm careful how I go, it ought to stand another journey."

He made a grimace as he stretched out the limb. It was very sore, for
during the last few days the strain the snowshoe threw on the muscles
had nearly disabled him. Now, he knew it would be difficult to hold
out for another journey; but he had grown accustomed to pain and
weariness and hunger. They were, he imagined, the lot of all who
braved the rigors of winter in the northern wilds.

"Well," said Benson, "there's no use in carrying anything that's not
strictly needful, and the empty grub-bag may stay behind. Then here's
a pair of worn-out moccasins I was keeping as a stand by. I should be
able to get new ones at the factory."

"It's still some distance off," Harding reminded him.

"If we don't make it, the chances are that I won't need the things.
But what about your collection of gum?"

Nothing had been said on this point for some time, but Harding's face
wore a curious look as he took up a bag which weighed three or four
pounds.

"Some of the stuff might be used for low-grade varnish; but that's not
what I'm out for. I've been trying to believe that a few of the
specimens might prove better on analysis; but I guess it's a delusion."