"Get a look at that," he cried, in genial disgust.
The man riding at his side turned and laughed without mirth. His eyes remained serious.
"Sure," he said indifferently. "We've got to get 'em, this time of year, Doc. We need a head breeze."
"Got to get? What we're getting is hell—plumb hell," exploded the Scotsman.
The other nodded.
"Sure. But there's worse hell on the trail, and it isn't us who's got it."
The rebuke was without offence. But it was sufficient. In a moment Ross was flung headlong back to the haunting thoughts of the great effort he and his companion were engaged upon.
"Another day—and no sign," he said.
"No."
There was no great display, yet the doctor's words, and the monosyllabic reply, were deeply significant.