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She, however, remembered that she was still pledged to him, and determinedly brushed these thoughts aside, until she heard his footsteps inside the house, when she became possessed of a burning curiosity as to what Wyllard had to say to him, which, however, remained unsatisfied. In the meanwhile, Hawtrey entered a room where Wyllard sat awaiting him with a paper in his hand.
There was, however, no sign of Wyllard, and at last Dampier, coming back jaded and dejected from another fruitless search, after the time agreed upon had expired, shut himself up alone for a couple of hours in the little cabin.
What Lewson had had to face in the awful icy wastes to the north of them Wyllard could scarcely imagine, and Lewson could not tell, but he and his two other comrades had borne things almost beyond endurance since he began his search, and now there was far too much at stake for him to increase the odds against them by any undue precipitancy.
"Have you got many of those trees over here?" he asked. Then a light dawned upon the girl, for, though he had spoken without perceptible accent, she had been slightly puzzled by something in his speech and appearance. "I believe they're not uncommon. You are an American?" she said. Wyllard laughed. "No," he said.
They obeyed somehow, hanging on to the mast-hoops, and now and then enveloped by the madly flogging canvas. After that they trimmed her fore-staysail over, and there was by contrast a curious quietness as Dampier jammed his helm up, and the schooner swung off before the sea. Then somebody lighted a lantern, and Charly stooped over Wyllard, who lay limp and still beside the wheel.
"There's one other course," said Dampier; "the sensible one, and that's to wait until it has gone altogether. Seems to me I ought to mention it, though it's not likely to appeal to you." Wyllard laughed. "From all appearances we might wait a month. I don't want to stay up here any longer than is strictly necessary." "You'll head north?" "That's my intention."
Nothing moved on the still, grey water; there was no sign of life ashore; and they seemed to be steaming into a great desolation. By and bye, Wyllard appeared from somewhere, and after a glance at her face slipped his hand beneath her arm, and led her down to the lighted saloon. Then her heart grew a little lighter. Once more she was conscious of an unreasoning feeling that she was safe with him.
With an expressionless face he sat down among the stones, and Charly decided that it was Wyllard's part to pick the trail. "You could beat me every time at trailing or shooting when we went ashore on the American side, and I'm not sorry to let it go at that now," he said. Wyllard smiled grimly. "And I've carried this rifle a week on top of my other load.
"It's Harry Wyllard's money!" she commented, as she met his glance with flashing eyes. A bitter wind was blowing when Wyllard stood outside the little tent the morning after he had made a landing on the ice. He was to leeward of the straining canvas which partly sheltered him, but the raw cold struck through him to the bone, and he was stiff and sore from his exertions during the previous day.
The hide moccasins he wore had chafed through, and Wyllard noticed that the blood was trickling from one of his feet. "Well?" he said, harshly. Wyllard laid a stern restraint upon himself. Their case looked desperate, but it must, at least, be grappled with. "We must go back and meet the rest," he said. "That first what is to come afterwards I don't quite know."
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