Harding was glad to comply; and, lighting their pipes, the men began to talk. Their host, who told them his name was Robertson, was a rather hard-featured man of middle age.
"I'm all my lone; my clerk's away with the breeds at the Swan Lake," he said. "Where are ye making for?"
"For the south," Blake answered. "We came here for shelter, badly tired, and we want to hire a dog team and a half-breed guide, if possible, as soon as my partner's fit to travel. Then we want provisions."
"I'm afraid I cannot supply ye. Our stores are low—we got few fish and caribou the year, and we have not a team to spare."
"Well," said Benson, "I don't suppose you'll turn us out, and we'd be glad to pay for our accommodation. We have no wish to take the trail again without food or transport."
Robertson looked thoughtful.
"Ye might wait a week or two; and then we'll maybe see better what can be done."
He asked them a few questions about their journey, and then Harding took the piece of gum from its case.
"I guess you have seen nothing like this round here?"
"No," said Robertson, after examining it carefully. "I have made it my business to study the natural products o' the district, and it's my opinion ye'll find no gum of this kind in the northern timber belt."