It took him some time to make his errand clear, and then Overweg looked at him in a rather curious fashion.
"It is," he said, "a tale that in these days one finds some little difficulty in believing. Still, it must be admitted that I am acquainted with one fact which appears to substantiate it."
Then as he saw the blood rise to Wyllard's forehead he broke off with a little soft laugh.
"My friend," he added, "is it permitted to offer you my felicitations? The men who would attempt a thing of this kind are, I think, singularly rare."
"The fact?" said Wyllard, impatiently.
"There is a Kamtchadale in my base camp who told me of a place where a white man was buried some distance to the west of us. He spoke of a second white man, but nobody, I understand, knows what became of him."
Wyllard straightened himself suddenly. "You will send for that Kamtchadale?"
"Assuredly. The tale you have told me has stirred my curiosity. As my path lies west up the river valley, we can, if it pleases you, go on for a while together."
Wyllard, who thanked him, turned to Charly with a faint sigh of relief.
"It seems that we shall not bring those men back, but I think we may find out where they lie," he said. Charly made no comment, for this was the most he had expected, and a few minutes later there was silence in the little tent when the men lay down to sleep among the skins.