Seaforth was about to speak, but he saw his comrade's eyes and did not express himself as he had meant to. "Yes," he said. "I don't know that I shall find her."
The two men looked at each other, until Alton moved his head. "Still, one of us must try," he said. "Take all you can carry, and a rifle. I'll load up as much as I'm fit for, and we'll cache the rest. You'll come on after me, or join Tom, as you think best."
Seaforth smiled a little. "I'll come on, and even if I sacrifice something else I'll take the rifle."
Alton said nothing, and for an hour they were busy about the camp. Then as they stood a moment, loaded like beasts of burden, under the dripping pines, Seaforth held out his hand.
"Harry, are you wise?" he said.
"I don't know," said Alton simply; "but I'm going on."
It was noticeable that they shook hands, which they were not in the habit of doing, and that there was a very faint but perceptible tremor in Seaforth's voice.
"Good-bye," he said.
"Well," said Alton with a smile, which seemed to lack heartiness. "I wouldn't put it that way."
He swung forward with his face towards the north, but the smile faded and his fingers closed on the rifle when he heard Seaforth struggling southwards through the bush.