“To the Barren Grounds. But who leads?”
Hume was writing on a slip of paper, and he did not reply. The faces of three of them showed just a shade of anxiety. They guessed who it would be, but they were not sure. Cloud-in-the-Sky, however, grunted at them, and raised the bowl of his pipe towards the subfactor. The anxiety then seemed to disappear.
For ten minutes more they sat so, all silent. Then Hume rose, handed the slip of paper to Sergeant Gosse, and said: “Attend to that at once, Gosse. Examine the food and blankets closely.”
The five were left alone.
Then Hume spoke: “Jeff Hyde, Gaspe Toujours, Late Carscallen, and Cloud-in-the-Sky, this man, alive or dead, is between here and the Barren Grounds. He must be found—for his wife’s sake.”
He handed Jeff Hyde her letter. Jeff rubbed his fingers before he touched the delicate and perfumed missive. Its delicacy seemed to bewilder him. He said: in a rough but kindly way: “Hope to die if I don’t,” and passed it on to Gaspe Toujours, who did not find it necessary to speak. His comrade had answered for him. Late Carscallen held it inquisitively for a moment, and then his jaws opened and shut as if he were about to speak. But before he did so Hume said: “It is a long journey and a hard one. Those who go may never come back. But this man was working for his country, and he has got a wife—a good wife.” He held up the letter. “Late Carscallen wants to know who will lead you. Can’t you trust me? I will give you a leader that you will follow to the Barren Grounds. To-morrow you will know who he is. Are you satisfied? Will you do it?”
The four rose, and Cloud-in-the-Sky nodded approvingly many times. Hume held out his hand. Each man shook it, Jeff Hyde first. Then he said: “Close up ranks for the H.B.C.!” (H.B.C. meaning, of course, Hudson’s Bay Company.)
With a good man to lead them, these four would have stormed, alone, the Heights of Balaklava.
Once more Hume spoke. “Go to Gosse and get your outfits at nine to-morrow morning. Cloud-in-the-Sky, have your sleds at the store at eight o’clock, to be loaded. Then all meet me at 10.15 at the office of the chief factor. Good night.”
As they passed out into the semi-arctic night, Late Carscallen with an unreal obstinacy said: “Slow march to the Barren Grounds—but who leads?”