Vane, as his partner realised, was ambitious; but in place of aspiring after wealth or social prominence—the latter of which had, indeed, of late began to pall on him—his was a different aim; to rend the hidden minerals from the hills, to turn forests into dressed lumber, to make something grow. Dollars are often, though not always, made that way; but while he affected no contempt for them, in Vane’s case their acquisition was undoubtedly not the end. Fortunately, he was not altogether singular in this respect.
When he next spoke, there was, however, no hint of altruistic sentiment in his curt inquiry: “Are you going to sit there until you freeze?”
Carroll got up, and they spent the rest of the day plodding through the brûlée, with the result that when darkness fell Vane had abandoned all idea of working the spruce. Next morning, they set out for the inlet, and one afternoon during the journey they came upon several fallen logs lying athwart each other with their branches spread in a horrible tangle between. Vane proceeded to walk along one log, which was tilted up several yards above the ground, balancing himself carefully upon the rounded surface; and Carroll followed until the end of a broken branch, which he evidently had not noticed, caught in the leader’s clothes. Next moment there was a sharp snapping, and Vane plunged down into the tangle beneath, while Carroll stood still and laughed. It was not an uncommon accident.
Vane, however, did not reappear; nor was there any movement among the half-rotten boughs and withered sprays, and Carroll, moving forward hastily, looked down into the hole. He was disagreeably surprised to see his comrade lying, rather white in face, upon his side.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to chop me out,” he said, and his voice was hoarse. “Get to work; I can’t move my leg.”
Moving farther along the log, Carroll dropped to the ground, which was less encumbered there, and spent the next quarter of an hour hewing a passage to his comrade. Then as he stood beside him, hot and panting, Vane looked up.
“It’s my lower leg; the left,” he said. “Bone’s broken; I felt it snap.”
Carroll turned from him for a moment in consternation. Looking out between the branches, he could see the lonely hills tower, pitilessly white, against the blue of the frosty sky, and the rigid firs running back as far as his vision reached upon their lower slopes. There was no touch of life in all the picture; everything was silent and motionless, and its desolation came near to appalling him. When he looked round again, Vane smiled wryly.
“If this had happened farther north, it would have been the end of me,” he said. “As it is, it’s awkward.”
The word struck Carroll as singularly inadequate, but he made an effort to gather his courage when his companion broke off with a groan of pain.