It was a long, wet sail up the coast with the wind ahead, and Carroll was quite content when, on reaching Comox, Vane announced his intention of stopping there until the mail came in. Immediately after its arrival, Carroll went ashore, and came back empty-handed.
"Nothing," he reported. "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 tersely.
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 and that should have afforded his companion satisfaction. The latter sat on deck, gazing somewhat moodily across the ruffled water toward the snow-clad heights of the mainland range. They towered, dimly white and majestic, above a scarcely-trodden wilderness, and Carroll, at least, was not pleasantly impressed by the spectacle. Though not to be expected always, the cold snaps are now and then severe in those wilds. Indeed, at odd times a frost almost as rigorous as that of Alaska lays its icy grip upon the mountains and the usually damp forests at their feet.
"I wish I could have got a man to go with us, but between the coal development and the logging, everybody's busy," he remarked.
"It doesn't matter," Vane assured him. "If we took a man along and came back unsuccessful, there'd be a risk of his giving the thing away. Besides, he might make trouble in other respects. A hired packer would probably kick against what you and I may have to put up with."
Carroll was far from pleased with this hint, but he let it pass.
"Do you mean that if you don't find the spruce this time, you'll go back again?"
"Yes, that's my intention. And now we may as well get the mainsail on her."
They got off shortly afterward and stood out to northward with the wind still ahead of them. It was a lowering day, and a short, tumbling sea was running. When late in the afternoon Carroll fixed their position by the bearing of a peak on the island, he pointed out the small progress they had made. The sloop was then plunging close-hauled through the vicious slate-green combers, and thin showers of spray flew all over her.