“Yes,” Davis rose from his seat, voice quavering, “yes, I can see no hope for us. The doctor was gone. I got nothing. Nothing!”
Gloomily he paced back and forth across the rough floor of the sparsely furnished room. The eyes of the white prospector and the half-breed followed him curiously.
“I was afraid of that,” Harbinson declared presently, “I knew you had a chance of missing him. It is a terrible thing!”
Davis stopped short in the middle of his nervous pacing and raised one arm in a hopeless gesture.
“Even if I’d seen him, it might have done us no good. The entire north country is undermined with the thing, especially among the Indians. It’s working gradually south. The missions are filled to overflowing.” His voice lowered to a husky whisper. “It’s awful, Harbinson. Awful!”
The old man gazed dully at his partner through a long interval of silence. Davis spoke again:
“Since I left here two weeks ago, has there been any new development?” He looked searchingly at the other.
“Yes, it’s reached the village.”
“That’s only ten miles away,” Davis calculated roughly. “How did you find this out? Send Baptiste?”
“No. Pierre La Lond passed here two days ago and told us.”