“Coffee!” said Alton.  “I left it in the deerhide bag in the canoe.”

Seaforth’s limbs were too stiff to be much use to him yet, and he blundered amidst the boulders, falling over one or two, before he reached the shingle where they had partly drawn out the canoe.  Then he stood still, staring about him, and saw only the green-tinted water sliding by under the uncertain light, and the pines on the other side growing a trifle plainer through the mist.  Turning, he hastened along the shingle until a shelf of rock shut it in, and then back to the tent again.  Alton laid down the axe, for there was something in his comrade’s face that troubled him.

“Have you got it?” he asked.

“No,” said Seaforth very quietly.  “You told me the bag was in the canoe.”

“Of course,” said Alton.  “Well, wasn’t it there?”

“I don’t know,” said Seaforth.  “I couldn’t find the canoe.”

Alton said nothing further, but stumbled in haste towards the river.  Seaforth followed him more slowly, and Alton stood very still when he found nothing but boulders and shingle.  Then he stooped and bent over a little depression in the pebbles, and when he rose again his face was impassive.

“The water has risen since last night, but I’m not sure that accounts for it,” he said.  “The bank slopes a little, but we pulled most of her out.”

“I think we pulled the whole of her clear,” said Seaforth quietly.

Alton stood silent for almost a minute with his right hand clenched.  Then he said slowly, “You’ll have to go down and look for her while I push on, Charley.”

Seaforth was about to speak, but he saw his comrade’s eyes and did not express himself as he had meant to.  “Yes,” he said.  “I don’t know that I shall find her.”

The two men looked at each other, until Alton moved his head.  “Still, one of us must try,” he said.  “Take all you can carry, and a rifle.  I’ll load up as much as I’m fit for, and we’ll cache the rest.  You’ll come on after me, or join Tom, as you think best.”

Seaforth smiled a little.  “I’ll come on, and even if I sacrifice something else I’ll take the rifle.”

Alton said nothing, and for an hour they were busy about the camp.  Then as they stood a moment, loaded like beasts of burden, under the dripping pines, Seaforth held out his hand.

“Harry, are you wise?” he said.

“I don’t know,” said Alton simply; “but I’m going on.”

It was noticeable that they shook hands, which they were not in the habit of doing, and that there was a very faint but perceptible tremor in Seaforth’s voice.

“Good-bye,” he said.

“Well,” said Alton with a smile, which seemed to lack heartiness.  “I wouldn’t put it that way.”

He swung forward with his face towards the north, but the smile faded and his fingers closed on the rifle when he heard Seaforth struggling southwards through the bush.