“Ah,” he replied, “the road your comrade traveled is a hard one. You have seen what it leads to.”
Then Wyllard gave another a glimpse of the emotion that he generally kept hidden deep in him.
“No,” he said, quietly, “the hard road leads further—where we do not know—but one feels that the full knowledge will not bring sorrow when it is some day given to those who have the courage to follow.”
Overweg waved a hand as he spoke. “It is not the view of the materialists, but it is conceivable that the materialists may be wrong,” he responded. “In this case, however, it is the concrete and practical we have to grapple with, my friend. You say you are going inland to search for that man, and for a while I go that way, but though I have my base camp there is the question of provisions if you come with me.”
They discussed the matter until Wyllard suggested that he could replace any provisions his companion supplied him with from the schooner, to which Overweg agreed, and they afterwards decided to send the Siwash and one of the Kamtchadales on to the inlet with a letter to Dampier. The two messengers started next day, when they found a place where the river was with difficulty fordable, and the rest pushed on slowly into a broken and rising country seamed with belts of thin forest here and there. They held westwards for another week, and then one evening made their camp among a few stunted, straggling firs. The temperature had risen in the daytime, but the nights were cold, and when they had eaten their evening meal they were glad of the shelter of the tent. A small fire of resinous branches was sinking into a faintly glowing mass close outside the canvas.
The flap was drawn back, and Wyllard, who lay facing the opening, could see a triangular patch of dim blue sky with a sharp sickle moon hanging low above a black fir branch. The night was clear and still, but now and then among the stunted trees there was a faint elfin sighing that quickly died away again. While still determined, Wyllard was moodily discouraged, for they had seen no sign of human life during the journey, and his reason told him that he might search for years before he found the bones of the last survivor of the party. Still, he meant to search while Overweg was willing to supply him with provisions.
By and by he saw Charly sharply raise his head and gaze towards the opening.
“Did you hear anything outside?” asked Charly.
“It must be the Kamtchadales,” Wyllard answered.
“They went back a mile or two to lay some traps.”