"I asked old Elmira last night. She thinks she knows. A man told her he had his trap line on the upper Umpqua, and his main headquarters--you know that trappers have a string of camps--was at the mouth of Little River, that flows into the Umpqua. But it is a long way from here." Bruce was still a moment. "How far?" he asked. "Two full days' tramp at the least--barring out accidents. But if you think it is best--you can start out to-day." Bruce was a man who made decisions quickly. He had learned the wisdom of it,--that after all the evidence is gathered on each side, a single second is all the time that is needed for any kind of decision. Beyond that point there is only vacillation. "Then I'll start--right away. Can you tell me how to find the trail?" "I can only tell you to go straight north. Use your watch as a compass in the daytime and the North Star at night." "I didn't suppose that it was wisdom to travel at night." She looked at him in sudden astonishment. "And where did you learn that fact, Bruce?" The man tried hard to remember. "I don't know. I suppose it was something I heard when I was a baby--in these mountains." "It is one of the first things a mountaineer has to know--to make camp at nightfall. You would want to, anyway, Bruce. You've got enough real knowledge of the wilderness in you--born in you--to want a camp and a fire at night. Besides, the trails are treacherous." "Then the thing to do is to get ready at once. And then try to bring Hudson back with me--down to the valley. After we get there we can see what can be done." Linda smiled rather sadly. "I'm not very hopeful. But he's our last chance--and we might as well make a try. There is no hope that the secret agreement will show up in these few weeks that remain. We'll get your things together at once." They breakfasted, and after the simple meal was finished, Bruce began to pack for the journey. He was very thankful for the months he had spent in an army camp. He took a few simple supplies of food: a piece of bacon, a little sack of dried venison--that delicious fare that has held so many men up on long journeys--and a compact little sack of prepared flour. There was no space for delicacies in the little pack. Besides, a man forgets about such things on the high trails. Butter, sugar, even that ancient friend coffee had to be left behind. He took one little utensil for cooking--a small skillet--and Linda furnished him with a camp ax and a long-bladed hunting knife. These things (with the exception of the knife and ax) he tied up in one heavy, all-wool blanket, making a compact pack for carrying on his back. In his pocket he carried cartridges for the rifle, pipe, tobacco, and matches. Linda took the hob-nails out of her own shoes and pounded them into his. For there are certain trails in Trail's End that to the unnailed shoe are quite like the treadmills of ancient days; the foot slips back after every step.