"It's this—I suspect Clarke intended us to get entangled among these muskegs where we'd have no chance of renewing our provisions, and misled us about the Stony village, which he didn't wish us to reach. Well, he has succeeded in getting us into trouble and now he has to help us out. The fellow is a doctor."
Benson looked up eagerly. "You're going to bring him here? It's a daring plan, because it will be difficult to make him come."
"He'll come if he values his life," said Harding drily. "The Indian will take me to the village, and perhaps see me through if I offer him enough; he seems to have some grudge against the Stonies. I'll have to drop in upon the doctor late at night when none of his Indian friends are about."
"But who'll look after Blake? He can't be left."
"That's your part. You'd run more risk than I would, and I'm his partner."
"I'd hate to stay," Benson protested, and added with feeling: "You know how I'm indebted to Blake."
"It's your place," said Harding. "Now you had better try to arrange the thing with the Indian."
It took some time, but the man proved amenable. He frankly owned that he would not have ventured near the Stony camp alone and hinted at some quarrel between its inhabitants and his tribe, originating, Benson gathered, over a dispute about trapping grounds; but he was ready to accompany the white man, if the latter went well armed.
"That's fixed; we start at daybreak," said Harding. "I'll lie down now; it's your watch."
Five minutes later he was sound asleep and awoke, quietly determined and ready for the march, in the cold of dawn. He was a man of the cities, bred to civilized life and had a just appreciation of the risks he ran, since he meant to abduct the doctor, who was dangerous to meddle with, from an Indian village where he was apparently held in some esteem. The Stonies, living far remote, had, so Harding understood, escaped the chastening influence of an occasional visit from the patrols of the North-West Police. Moreover there was a possibility that Clarke might prove too clever for him. It was certainly a strange adventure for a business man, but he believed that Blake would perish unless help was obtained. He shook hands with Benson, who wished him a sincere "Good-luck!" and then, with the Indian leading, struck out through the muskeg towards the shadowy hills.