CHAPTER XXI
A MATTER OF DUTY
The campfire burned brightly in a straggling bluff at the edge of theplain. The scattered trees were small and let in the cold wind, andthe men were gathered close round the fire in a semi-circle on the sideaway from the smoke. Sergeant Lane held a notebook in his hand, whileEmile repacked a quantity of provisions, the weight of which they hadbeen carefully estimating. The sergeant's calculations were notreassuring, and he frowned.
"The time we lost turning back to the Stony village has made a big holein our grub," he said. "Guess we'll have to cut the menoo down and doa few more miles a day."
"Our party's used to that," Blake answered with a smile. "I suggestanother plan. You have brought us a long way, and Sweetwater's a bitoff your line. Suppose you give us food enough to last us on halfrations and let us push on."
"No, sir!" said Lane decidedly. "We see this trip through together.For another thing, the dogs are playing out, and after the way they'veserved us I want to save them. With your help at the traces we makebetter time."
Blake could not deny this. The snow had been in bad condition for thelast week, and the men had relieved each other in hauling the sled.The police camp equipment was heavy, but it could not be thrown away,for the men preferred some degree of hunger to lying awake at nights,half frozen. Moreover, neither Blake nor his comrades desired to leavetheir new friends and once more face the rigors of the wilds alone.
"Then we'll have to make the best speed we can," he said.
They talked about the journey still before them for another hour. Itwas a clear night and very cold, but there was a crescent moon in thesky. The wind had fallen; the fragile twigs of the birches which shotup among the poplars were still, and deep silence brooded over the widestretch of snow.
"Ah!" Emile exclaimed suddenly. "You hear somet'ing?"
They did not, though they listened hard; but the half-breed had beenborn in the wilderness, and they could not think him mistaken. For aminute or two his pose suggested strained attention, and then he smiled.
"White man come from ze sout'. _Mais, oui_! He come, sure t'ing."
Lane nodded.
"I guess he's right. I can hear it now; but I can't figure on the kindof outfit."
Then Blake heard a sound which puzzled him. It was not the quickpatter of a dog team, nor the sliding fall of netted shoes. The noisewas dull and heavy, and as the snow would deaden it, whoever was comingcould not be far away.
"Bob-sled!" Emile exclaimed with scorn. "_V'la la belle chose_!Arrive ze great horse of ze plow."
"The fellow's sure a farmer, coming up with a Clydesdale team," Lanelaughed. "One wouldn't have much trouble in following his trail."
A few minutes later three men appeared, carefully leading two bighorses through the trees.
"Saw your fire a piece back," said one, when they had hauled up aclumsy sled. "I'm mighty glad to find you, Blake; we were wonderinghow far we might have to go."
"Then you came up after me, Tom?" exclaimed Blake. "You wouldn't havegot much farther with that team; but who sent you?"
"I don't quite know. It seems that Gardner got orders from somebodythat you were to be found, and he hired me and the boys. We hadtrouble in getting here, but we allowed we could bring up more grub andblankets on the sled, and we could send Jake back with the team when westruck the thick bush. Then we were going to make a cache, and packalong as much stuff as we could carry. But I have a letter which maytell you something."
Blake opened it, and Harding noticed that his face grew intent; but heput the letter into his pocket and turned to the man.
"It's from a friend in England," he said. "You were lucky in findingme, and we'll go back together in the morning."
After attending to their horses, the new arrivals joined the others atthe fire, and explained that at the hotel-keeper's suggestion they hadmeant to head for the Indian village, and make inquiries on their wayup at the logging camp. Though Blake talked to them, he had apreoccupied look, and Harding knew that he was thinking of the letter.He had, however, no opportunity for questioning him, and he waiteduntil the next day, when Emile, whom they were helping, chose a shorterway across a ravine than that taken by the police and the men with thebob-sled. When they reached the bottom of the hollow, Blake told thehalf-breed to stop, and he took his comrades aside.
"There's something I must tell you," he said. "It was ColonelChalloner who sent the boys up from the settlement with food for us,and he begs me to come home at once. That's a point on which I'd likeyour opinion; but you shall hear what he has to say."
Sitting down on a log, he began to read from his letter:
"'_A man named Clarke, whom you have evidently met, lately called on meand suggested an explanation of the Indian affair. As the price of hiskeeping silence on the subject, he demanded that I should take a numberof shares in a syndicate he is forming for the exploitation of somepetroleum wells._'"
"It was a good offer," Harding interrupted. "Clarke must have hadreason for believing he was about to make a big strike; he'd have keptquiet until he was sure of it."
"'_The fellow's story was plausible,_'" Blake continued reading. "'_Itseems possible that you have been badly wronged; and I have beentroubled----_'" He omitted the next few lines, and went on: "'_Aftergiving the matter careful thought, I feel that the man may have hitupon the truth. It would, of course, afford me the keenestsatisfaction to see you cleared, but the thing must be thoroughlysifted, because----_'"
Blake stopped and added quietly:
"He insists on my going home."
"His difficulty is obvious," Benson remarked. "If you are blameless,his son must be guilty."
Blake did not answer, but sat musing with a disturbed expression.There was now no sign of the men with the bob-sled, and no soundreached them from the plain above. Emile stood patiently waiting somedistance off, and though they were sheltered from the wind it wasbitterly cold.
"In some ways, it might be better if I went home at once," Blake saidat last. "I could come back and join you as soon as I saw how thingswere going. The Colonel would feel easier if I were with him; but, allthe same, I'm inclined to stay away."
"Why?" Harding asked.
"For one thing, if I were there, he might insist on taking some quiteunnecessary course that would only cause trouble."
"I'm going to give you my opinion," said Harding curtly. "I take itthat your uncle is a man who tries to do the square thing?"
Blake's face relaxed and his eyes twinkled.
"He's what you call white, and as obstinate as they're made. Convincehim that a thing's right and he'll see it done, no matter how manypeople it makes uncomfortable. That's why I don't see my way toencourage him."
"Here's a man who's up against a point of honor; he has, I understand,a long, clean record, and now he's prepared to take a course that maycost him dear. Are you going to play a low-down game on him; to twistthe truth so's to give him a chance for deceiving himself?"
"Aren't you and Benson taking what you mean by the truth too much forgranted?"
Harding gave him a searching look.
"I haven't heard you deny it squarely; you're a poor liar. It's yourclear duty to go back to England right away, and see your uncle throughwith the thing he means to do."
"After all, I'll go to England," Blake answered with significantreserve. "However, we'd better get on, or we won't catch the othersuntil they've finished dinner."
Emile started the dogs, and when they had toiled up the ascent they sawthe men with the bob-sled far ahead on the great white plain.
"We may not have another chance for a private talk until we reach thesettlement," Blake said. "What are you going to do about thepetroleum?"
"I'll come back and prospect the muskeg as soon as the frost goes,"Harding answered promptly.
"It will cost a good deal to do that thoroughly. We must hiretransport for a full supply of all the tools and food we are l
ikely toneed; one experience of the kind we've had this trip is enough. Howare you going to get the money?"
"I'm not going to the city men for it until our position's secure. Thething must be kept quiet until we're ready to put it on the market."
"You were doubtful about taking me for a partner once," Bensoninterposed. "I don't know that I could blame you; but now I mean to doall I can to make the scheme successful, and I don't think you'll haveas much reason for being afraid that I might fail you."
"Call it a deal," said Harding. "You're the man we want."
"I ought to be back before you start," Blake said; "and if I can raiseany money in England I'll send it over. You're satisfied that this isa project I can recommend to my friends?"
"I believe it's such a chance as few people ever get," Harding answeredin a tone of firm conviction.
"Then we'll see what can be done. It won't be your fault if theventure fails."
Harding smiled.
"There's hard work and perhaps some trouble ahead, but you won't regretyou faced it. You'll be a rich man in another year or two!"
Blake smiled at his enthusiasm.
"Emile and the dogs are leaving us behind," he said. "We'll have tohustle!"