“No telling—­maybe to-night, maybe to-morrow night.”

“And what are we going to do in the mean time?”

“Sit tight.”  Mr. Slater chewed steadily and sighed.  “No soda in camp, and this gum don’t seem to lay hold of me!  That’s luck!”

Darkness had settled when O’Neil reappeared.  He came plunging out of the brush, drenched, muddy, stained by contact with the thickets; but his former mood had disappeared and in its place was a harsh, explosive energy.

“Tom!” he cried.  “You and Appleton and I will leave at daylight.  The men will wait here until we get back.”  His voice was incisive, its tone forbade question.

The youthful engineer stared at him in dismay, for only his anxiety had triumphed over his fatigue, and daylight was but four hours away.  O’Neil noted the expression, and said, more gently: 

“You’re tired, Appleton, I know, but in working for me you’ll be called upon for extraordinary effort now and then.  I may not demand more than an extra hour from you; then again I may demand a week straight without sleep.  I’ll never ask it unless it’s necessary and unless I’m ready to do my share.”

“Yes, sir.”

“The sacrifice is big, but the pay is bigger.  Loyalty is all I require.”

“I’m ready now, sir.”

“We can’t see to travel before dawn.  Help Tom load the lightest boat with rations for five days.  If we run short we’ll ‘Siwash’ it.”  He kicked off his rubber boots, up-ended them to drain the water out, then flung himself upon his bed of boughs and was asleep almost before the two had recovered from their surprise.

“Five days—­or longer!” Slater said, gloomily, as he and Dan began their preparations.  “And me with indigestion!”

“What does it mean?” queried Appleton.

“It means I’ll probably succumb.”

“No, no!  What’s the meaning of this change of plan?  I can’t understand it.”

“You don’t need to,” “Happy Tom” informed him, curtly.  There was a look of solicitude in his face as he added, “I wish I’d made him take off his wet clothes before he went to sleep.”

“Let’s wake him up.”

But Slater shook his head.  “I’d sooner wake a rattlesnake,” said he.

O’Neil roused the members of his expedition while the sky was reddening faintly, for he had a mind which worked like an alarm-clock.  All except Appleton had worked for him before, and the men accepted his orders to await his return with no appearance of surprise.

With the first clear light he and his two companions set out, rowing up the estuary of the Salmon until the current became too swift to stem in that manner.  Then landing, they rigged a “bridle” for the skiff, fitted their shoulders to loops in a ninety-foot tow rope, and began to “track” their craft up against the stream.  It was heartbreaking work.  Frequently they were waist-deep in the cold water.  Long “sweepers” with tips awash in the