There was no change in the work the next morning, but in the afternoon it became evident that another party had made that portage ahead of them. The soil was a little drier and where the small trees grew more thickly they could see that a passage had been laboriously cleared. In the swampy hollows, which still occurred, trunks had here and there been flung into the ooze. This saved them some trouble and they made better progress, but both Lisle and Nasmyth became silent and grave as the signs of their predecessors' march grew plainer. By nightfall they had reached the second camping-place, which told an eloquent story of struggle with fatigue and exhaustion. Lisle, stopping in the gathering dusk, glanced around the old camp site. "A good place to pitch the tent, but I think I'd rather move on a little," he said. Nasmyth made a sign of comprehension. "Yes," he agreed. "I couldn't sleep soundly here. Everything about us is too plain a reminder; I've no doubt you feel it as I do. A firm and trusted friend lay, famishing, beside that fire, in what extremity of weakness and suffering I dare not let myself think. It's possible he cut those branches yonder." Lisle's face expressed emotion sternly held in check. "That was Vernon's work--no Englishman new to the country could have slashed them off so cleanly. But look at this small spruce stump. He was the better chopper, but it's significant that he used three or four strokes where I would have taken one." Even the laconic Jake appeared relieved when they forced their way a little farther through the tangled undergrowth, until finding a clear space they set up the tent. CHAPTER III THE CACHE They spent the greater part of a week on the portage, crossing here and there a little lake; and then came out one evening on a river that flowed, green and tranquil, beneath a ridge of hills. Here they camped; and on rising with a shiver in the raw and nipping dawn the next morning, Nasmyth found Lisle busy at the fire. Jake was cutting wood some distance off, for the thud of his ax rang sharply through the stillness. "I was awake--thinking--a good deal last night; in fact, I've been restless ever since we struck the Gladwynes' trail," Nasmyth began. "Now, I understand that an uninterrupted journey of about sixteen days would take us well on our way toward civilization. You say you apprehend no difficulty after that?" "No." Lisle waited, watching his companion in an intent fashion. Nasmyth hesitated. "Then, considering everything, mightn't it be better to waste no time, and push straight on?" "And leave the work that brought me here--I believe that brought us both here--undone?" "You'll forgive me if I don't express myself very fortunately. What I feel is this--Gladwyne's story is a tragic one, but it's twelve months old. In a way, it's forgotten; the wounds it made have healed." "Is such a man as the one you have described forgotten in a year?" Lisle asked with a hardening expression.