“Nothing,” he said. “Personally, I’m pleased. Nairn could have advised us here if there had been any striking developments since we left the last place.”
“I wasn’t expecting to hear from him,” Vane replied.
Carroll read keen disappointment in his face, and was not surprised, although the absence of any message meant that it was safe for them to go on with their project, which should have afforded his companion satisfaction.
They got off shortly afterwards and stood out to the northwards.
Most of that day and the next two they drifted with the tides through narrowing waters, though now and then for a few hours they were wafted on by light and fickle winds. At length they crept into the inlet where they had landed on the previous voyage, and on the morning after their arrival set out on the march. There was on this occasion reason to expect more rigorous weather, and the load each carried was an almost crushing one. Where the trees were thinner, the ground was frozen hard, and even in the densest bush the undergrowth was white and stiff with frost, while, when they could see aloft through some chance opening, a forbidding grey sky hung over them.
On approaching the rift in the hillside which he had glanced at when they first passed that way, Vane stopped a moment.
“I looked into that place before, but it didn’t seem worth while to follow it up,” he said. “If you’ll wait, I’ll go a little farther along it.”
Though the air was nipping, Carroll, who was breathless, was content to remain where he was, and he spent some time sitting upon a log before a faint shout reached him. Then he rose, and making his way up the hollow, found his comrade standing upon a jutting ledge.
“I thought you were never coming,” the latter remarked. “Climb up; I’ve something to show you.”
Carroll joined him with difficulty, and Vane stretched out his hand.