"You're still convinced the grub is here?"
"That is a sure thing—all we have to do is to find it; but it's going to be a big job. I expect both of you want me to talk?"
Their willingness to hear his views was obvious.
"The trouble is," he explained, "you can get down from the neck a number of different ways—there are the spurs one could break a trail along and there are the ravines. We may try them all before we strike the right one; but we'll have a better chance if we work up instead of down."
"Why?" Andrew asked.
"Because the packers would start from the low ground, and the benches look different from below."
"Do you think Mappin told them to pick any particular place?"
"I've been figuring on that. He's learned something about the ground, and my idea is that the provisions are dumped in a hollow that looks like a good road up to the gap; that is, as you would see it from the creek. What we don't know is where his boys would strike the ice. It might be anywhere within three or four miles."
Andrew knit his brows.
"It's a puzzling question and we have only a day or two to find the answer. The worst of it is that we're worn out and famishing; I feel that my wits would be quicker if I could come at it fresh from a square meal."