“No, George, you’re not.”
She was right. Chanler was in no shape to paddle any more, so Betty took his place in the bow, and, with George crouched in the middle, the journey up the fiord began. Save for an occasional groan or exclamation from George and a soothing response from Betty, we spoke but little.
I was lost in admiration of the manner in which Betty tackled the task before us. She sat up, slim and straight, bending but little to her paddle, but by our progress I knew the force which her young arms placed behind each stroke. There was no hesitation, no faltering, though I knew that she, too, dreaded returning to Brack in this fashion. She seemed to have forgotten herself in the need to help George; and the Spring-like youth of her reached back to me, putting new life into my tiring arms, new confidence in my troubled thoughts. I had for the moment almost fallen into despair, accepting Brack’s will with us as invincible. Without Betty I would have felt that we were beaten. But there was the indomitable confidence of youth in the poise of her little head, there was inspiration in the swing of her young-woman body, and as we paddled on into the darkness my heart cried out:
“Bravo, Betty! Bravo, brave girl! We’ll beat him yet.”
XXVIII
The problem of the Wanderer’s whereabouts was one which offered no clue for its solution. One thing I felt certain: the yacht had not gone to sea. Whatever Riordan’s wishes in that matter might be—and I knew such a move would have pleased him as revenge upon Betty and me—Pierce and Wilson would never have permitted it.
True, Wilson was crippled, but if I had gaged the man’s character rightly it would have required more than a wounded leg to prevent his intervention in so colossal a piece of treachery. As for Pierce, with his terrible neckties and soul of gold, he would have died rather than allow Miss Baldwin to be treated in such fashion. More, he would be too clever to die; he would at least have escaped to join us.
The yacht must be somewhere in the fiord. Riordan would not have moved her without Brack’s orders. These orders probably had been given at noon, and Riordan had waited until George and I were out of sight before obeying them. With the yacht hidden we would be at Brack’s mercy in that wilderness, the only shelter and food being at the mine. The pistol in my shirt grated against my ribs as I dug viciously at the water.
Had Captain Brack been present when we reached the mine I am quite certain that we would have clashed.
The light was still burning in the cabin as we reached the mine-clearing, and with the pistol in my hand I walked straight up to the cabin door, leaving Betty to guide George, who now was staggering and groaning constantly. Brack was not there. In his place Dr. Olson was sitting, refreshing himself from the remnants of a meal and a bottle of whisky.