"A sure thing!" said Harding. "It hasn't struck you that this was what he meant us to do."
Blake started.
"Are you making a bold guess, or have you any ground for what you're saying?"
"I see you'll have to be convinced. Very well; in the first place, the man would have stuck at nothing. I've already tried to show you that he had something to gain by Benson's death. I suspected when we took you away from him that you were running a big risk, Benson."
"I was running a bigger one before that, if you can call a thing a risk when the result's inevitable," Benson replied. "The pace I was going would have killed me in another year or two, and even now I'm half afraid——" He paused for a few moments, with somber face and knitted brows. "I believe you're right, Harding," he went on thoughtfully; "but you haven't told us how he proposed to get rid of me."
"I'm coming to that. There was, however, another member of this party who was in his way, and he made his plans to remove you both."
"You mean me?" Blake broke in. "I don't see how he'd profit by my death."
"First, let's look at what he did. As soon as he reached the village, he heard that we had started from the Hudson Bay post. It wouldn't be difficult to calculate how long the food we could carry would last, and he'd see that the chances were in favor of our calling at the village for provisions. Presuming on that, he sent his friends away to look for caribou which they couldn't find. They admitted that they were puzzled, because he was a good hunter. Then he cleared out by himself; and I believe that if there was any food left in the place he carefully hid it."
Harding took out a letter and handed it to Blake.
"That," he said, "will show you how he would have profited. I found it in his pocket."