“One thing more I wanted to ask you,” she said. “How many men are there at the Station?”
“One man; the trader. He stays there the year ’round.”
“One man!” she exclaimed.
“One is all. Time was when there were twenty. Prospectors, traders, Indians, trappers. Two years ago forest fires destroyed the timber. The game sought other feeding grounds and the trappers, traders and Indians went with them. Gold doesn’t seem to exist in the streams hereabouts, so the prospectors have left, too. Now one man keeps the post; sort of holding on, I guess, just to see if the old days won’t return.”
“Do you suppose he could—could leave for a week or two?” Marian faltered.
“Guess not. Company wouldn’t permit it.”
“Then—then—” Marian set her lips tight. She would not worry this kind old man with her troubles. The fact remained, however, that if there was but one man at the Station, and he could not leave, there was no one who could be delegated by the Government Agent to go back with her to help fight her battles against Scarberry.
Suddenly, as she thought of the weary miles they had travelled, of the hardships they had endured, and of the probability that they would, after all, fail in fulfilling their mission, she felt very weak and as one who has suddenly grown old.
CHAPTER XX
A MESSAGE FROM THE AIR
A cup of perfect coffee, followed by a dash into the bracing Arctic morning, completely revived Marian’s spirits. Casting one longing look backward at the mysterious treasure of ancient dishes and old ivory, throwing doubt and discouragement to the winds, with energy and courage she set herself to face the problems of the day.