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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.
At first I supposed you wished to go because a journey through a rough and little-known country seems to appeal to one kind of Englishman, but I changed my mind when you showed your anxiety to get upon the Gladwyne party's trail." "You were right. I knew the Gladwynes in England; the one who died was an old and valued friend of mine.
To expose a man of one's own circle to the contempt and condemnation of outsiders is, in any walk of life, a strangely repugnant thing. "Well," he said, "to-morrow we'll pull out and portage across the divide to strike the Gladwynes' trail. And now I'll fry the trout and we'll have supper."
Except for the lap of water upon the pebbles and the wild cry of a loon that rang like a peal of unearthly laughter out of a darkening bay, there was nothing to break the deep stillness of the waste. Lisle pointed to the gap in the hills, which was filling with thin white mist. "That's the last big portage the Gladwynes made," he remarked.
"It's one that has been repeated with local variations over and over again. But go on." "There were two Gladwynes cousins. George, the elder of the two, was a man of means and position; Clarence, the younger, had practically nothing two or three hundred pounds a year. They were both sportsmen George was a bit of a naturalist and they made the expedition with the idea of studying the scarcer game.
There were other things a luster chandelier, quaintly-wrought hearth-irons, a carved wood mantel that posited to bygone days. It all impressed him with a sense of the continuity of English traditions and mode of life, as applied to such families as the Gladwynes.
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