"Keep closer!" Blake shouted, but it seemed that Benson did not hear him, for there was no reply.
"Hadn't you better go after him?" Harding suggested.
"No," said Blake shortly. "It would make things worse to scatter." He raised his voice. "Come back before your tracks fill up."
The silence that followed filled them with alarm, but while they listened in strained suspense a minute or two later a faint call came out of the snow. The words were indistinguishable, but the voice had an exultant note in it, and Blake said with deep relief, "He has found the trail."
It was difficult to see the print of Benson's shoes and Harding could not move a step alone, but they called out at intervals as Blake slowly helped him along, and at length a shadowy object loomed in front of them. As they came up Benson pointed to a slight depression.
"We can follow it if it gets no fainter, but there's no time to lose," he said. "It might be safer if I went first and kept my eye on the trail."
He shuffled forward with lowered head while Blake came behind, helping Harding as best he could, and all three long remembered the next half hour. Once or twice they lost the trail and were seized with despair, but searching anxiously they found it again. At length a pale, elusive light appeared amidst the snow ahead and they saw it grow clearer with keen satisfaction. When it had changed to a strong yellow glow they passed a broken white barrier which Blake supposed was a ruined stockade, and the hazy mass of a building showed against the snow. Then there was a loud barking of dogs, and while they sought for the door a stream of light suddenly shone out with a man's dark figure in the midst of it.
Next minute they entered the house and Harding lurching forward across the floor of a large room, clutched at a table and then fell with a crash into a chair. After the extreme cold outside, the air was suffocatingly hot and, overcome by the change and pain, he leaned back with flushed face and half closed eyes. His companions stood still, with the snow thick upon their ragged furs, and the other man shut the door before he turned to them.
"A rough night," he said calmly. "Ye might as weel sit down. Where do ye hail from?"
Blake laughed as he found a seat. He imagined that their appearance must have been somewhat startling, but he knew it takes a good deal to disturb the equanimity of a Hudson's Bay Scot.