een either very roughly made, or afterward opened and reclosed in
careless haste. Lisle had no hesitation in deciding upon the latter, and
Jake was emphatic in his brief assurance on the point.

On removing the covering stones, they found very little beneath them, but
every object was taken out and Lisle, measuring quantities and guessing
weights, carefully enumerated each in his notebook. Neither he nor
Nasmyth said anything of import then; both felt that the subject was too
grave to be lightly discussed; and walking back silently along the
shingle, they pitched the tent and prepared supper. After the meal, Jake,
prompted by an innate tact, sauntered away down the beach, and the other
two, lounging beside the fire, took out their pipes. A full moon hung
above the lonely gorge, which was filled with the roar of the river, and
the shadows of the cedars lay black upon the stones.

Some minutes passed before a word was spoken; and then Nasmyth looked up.

"Well?" he said briefly.

Lisle moved a little, so that he could see his companion's face.

"In the first place," he explained, "Clarence Gladwyne came down this
bank. One could locate the cache by the blazed tree, even with snow upon
the ground--and it has been opened. Apart from the signs of this, no
party of three men would have thought it worth while to make a cache of
the few things we found."

"Mightn't it have been opened by some Indian?"

"It's most unlikely, because he would have cleaned it out. A white
prospector would certainly have taken the tobacco."

Nasmyth knit his brows. He was deeply troubled, because there were
respects in which the matter would hardly bear discussion, though he
recognized that it must now be thrashed out.

"Well," he admitted reluctantly, "what we have discovered has its
significance; but it isn't conclusive."

His companion took out from a pocket the palm and wrist portion of a fur
glove. It was badly rotted, and the rest had either fallen away or been
gnawed by some animal, but a button with a stamp on it remained.

"Jake found that and gave it to me," he said. "There's enough left to
show that it had finger-stalls, and there are none on the mittens we use
in cold weather. The thing's English, and with a little rubbing I expect
you'll find the maker's name on that button. When the party went up it
was warm weather, but we know there was sharp frost when Gladwyne came
back. A buttoned glove doesn't drop off one's hand, and