He had set off in somewhat less, and the men he left behind stood still listening until the sound of his footsteps had sunk into the stillness. Then Seaforth glanced at his comrade, and Alton laughed.
"It's lonely, Charley," he said. "I don't know that you were wise, but we'll get a move on and cache some of these provisions."
Seaforth was glad of something to do. Three had started from Somasco, and already one had gone, while he felt a slight sense of depression as he glanced north towards the wilderness of rock and snow their path led into. He did not, however, tell his comrade so, and they toiled for an hour before Alton, carefully smoothing off the soil that covered what they had hidden, strewed it with cedar-twigs.
"Step it off, Charley; twenty paces east to the rock, with the big peak over the shoulder of the hill," he said.
Seaforth walked straight forward with measured strides. "A foot over!" he said.
Alton nodded. "Go back and make your traverse," he said. "Forty north with the gully over the fork of the river."
"Forty," said Seaforth, "and a half."
"Well," said Alton, "whatever you don't remember, hold tight on to that."
Seaforth felt the depression he had shaken off return to him. "There are," he said slowly, "few things that you forget."
Alton, glancing at him, understood, and then turned his eyes towards the snow of the wilderness. "It's the man that can't look forward who gets left," he said. "Now something might stop me coming back with you for that grub."