“Gladwyne’s trail?” exclaimed Nasmyth. “The one we’re looking for?”
“Why, yes,” drawled Jake, as if it were scarcely worth mentioning. “I guess it is.”
Nasmyth turned to Lisle.
“I was lucky when I lighted on you as a companion for this trip. You have been right in your predictions all along, and now you’re only out in striking the trail a day before you expected.”
“I know the bush,” returned Lisle. “It’s been pretty easy so far—but, for several reasons, I wish the next week or two were over.”
Nasmyth looked troubled. One could have imagined that misgivings which did not concern his personal safety were creeping into his mind.
“So do I,” he confessed, and turning toward the fire he busied himself with Jake’s supper.
There was no change in the work the next morning, but in the afternoon it became evident that another party had made that portage ahead of them. The soil was a little drier and where the small trees grew more thickly they could see that a passage had been laboriously cleared. In the swampy hollows, which still occurred, trunks had here and there been flung into the ooze. This saved them some trouble and they made better progress, but both Lisle and Nasmyth became silent and grave as the signs of their predecessors’ march grew plainer. By nightfall they had reached the second camping-place, which told an eloquent story of struggle with fatigue and exhaustion. Lisle, stopping in the gathering dusk, glanced around the old camp site.
“A good place to pitch the tent, but I think I’d rather move on a little,” he said.
Nasmyth made a sign of comprehension.