"Never mind that. I feel that I ought to help Graham out: he's an old and valued servant. But I don't see how you are interested in the thing." Frobisher smiled. "It's one's duty to help a fellow creature who's in serious danger. Then I believe I may call myself a friend of Allinson's." "There's a point to be considered. The most likely place to meet the party would be in the neighborhood of the food caches. You intimate that there's a risk of Allinson's missing them; but he must have a rough idea as to about where they are. As Mappin's out of town, wouldn't it be well to wire and ask him exactly where they were to be made?" "On the whole, I'd rather get the information from Mrs. Graham. No doubt she knows her husband's plans." The mill-owner gave him a searching glance. He was a shrewd man and suspected that there was a good reason for his visitor's preference. "Yes," he said pointedly, "that might be wiser." "There may have been some misunderstanding about the precise location of the caches," Frobisher explained. "Mrs. Graham will know where her husband meant them to be made--which of course is the most important thing." "Just so," agreed the other. "Excuse me for a few minutes." He went out, and returning a little later announced that three men would be ready to start up-river during the afternoon and that some more from the logging camp would follow in a few days. Frobisher left him and, after calling on Mrs. Graham, went to the store, where he ordered a quantity of provisions to be prepared. It was evening when he reached home. Finding Geraldine waiting for him, he smiled at her as he took off his furs. "I've had a busy day, but I've got things satisfactorily fixed," he said. "You have found men to take up provisions?" Geraldine asked eagerly. "Better than that," replied Frobisher. "I've sent them off." Seeing the pleasure in his daughter's face, he nodded reassuringly and left her. The relief expedition had orders to lose no time. Two of the men, as it happened, had themselves narrowly escaped starvation in the wilds, and their experience led them to urge the pace. It was afterward admitted that they made an excellent march, which was fortunate, because a few hours meant much to the starving men. As Andrew crouched at the side of the rock, half-dazed with fatigue and want of food, it was a moment or two before he could believe that he was not the victim of a disordered imagination as he stared at the three figures on the hillslope. But the figures moved and grew more distinct. He could not doubt that they were men, and they were coming up the hill! With his heart beating painfully fast, he staggered up and raised a wild, hoarse cry.