"Where are the rest? How have they got on?" Lisle asked.

"I think Batley went back to the last reach with Carew's rod," Crestwick answered. "I met Gladwyne and one of the packers on the low range back yonder; they'd only got a blue grouse."

"I could have done with the man here," said Lisle. "Which way were they heading?"

"Back up-river, the way we came."

Lisle made no comment, but Crestwick thought he found the information rea.s.suring, and thrusting out the canoe he was swept away down the easiest part of the rapid, while Crestwick a.s.sisted Nasmyth to land a trout. Lisle had returned to the camp when the packer who had accompanied Clarence came in alone, bringing a couple of grouse.

"What's become of Mr. Gladwyne?" Lisle asked him.

"Hasn't he got back?" replied the other, glancing about. "I lost him on the far slope of the bluff about noon, but as he could see the river most anywhere from the top I went right on. There was a deer trail I was trying to follow."

Lisle said nothing more to the packer but walked rapidly toward where the cook was getting supper ready. Nasmyth followed him.

"Did you give Mr. Gladwyne any lunch to carry with him when he left camp?" Lisle asked the man.

"I was busy when he came along and I told him to look around for himself.

I think he took some canned stuff and there was quite a big loaf missing."

"Bring the box you keep the canned goods in!"

The cook produced it.

"There's two meat cans gone, anyway," he remarked. "Looks as if Mr.

Gladwyne figured on getting mighty hungry."

Lisle nodded.

"Put me up enough bread and fish for two of us for two days."

He moved away with Nasmyth, and they had left the fire behind when he spoke, his voice hoa.r.s.e with anger.

"Gladwyne's gone to the cache! He's got half a day's clear start of us and he knows the country. It's pretty open and he'll make quite a good pace on a straight trail, while the river bends. Get the stuff I asked for while I give the others a few instructions."

"You mean to start after him at once?"

"As soon as you're ready," Lisle said shortly.

He turned back toward where the others were sitting waiting for supper.

"As Gladwyne hasn't turned up, Nasmyth and I are going to look for him,"

he announced. "There's nothing to be alarmed about, but it's quite likely we may not be back in the morning. If we don't turn up by noon, you had better start down-river and we'll pick you up farther on. I don't want to waste another day."

"Do you think he has got lost altogether?" Millicent asked anxiously.

"No," answered Lisle, in a rea.s.suring manner. "Still, some of these ridges are bad to climb and quite a lot of things may happen to delay him."

He called to a packer and gave him definite orders to take the party down-river and wait at a spot agreed upon; and a few minutes later he and Nasmyth left the camp.

Shortly afterward Batley came in.

"Where are the others?" he asked.

They told him and he looked thoughtful.

"So Lisle started at once! Which way did he and Nasmyth go?"

"Up the ridge behind us, but they turned down-stream when they reached the top," Carew replied.

Batley scented a mystery.

"Well," he said, "I think I'll go after them; I might be useful. Of course, you'll start to-morrow as Lisle told you, and if I'm not back by then, I'll follow the river to the rendezvous he mentioned."

He disappeared, as did Crestwick, who came in for supper later on, and as the packers had pitched their tent lower down, there was now only Carew left with the women in camp. They were all a little uneasy as dusk grew near; the haste with which the men had set out one after another struck them as ominous. Bella's mind was unusually active, for she had promptly decided that there was something behind all this, and when at last Millicent strolled away from the others she followed her to the edge of the water. A ridge of rock cut them off from view of the camp and though she fancied that Millicent was not pleased to see her, Bella sat down upon a stone.

"In a way, the anxiety that Lisle and the rest have shown to find Clarence is flattering," she began, expressing part of her thoughts. "I wonder if they'd all have gone off in such a hurry if Jim had got lost."

"Your brother knows the bush," returned Millicent, hiding her fears.

Bella did not respond to this. She had decided that Millicent must not be allowed to marry Gladwyne, but she could not bring herself to denounce the man. If that must be done, somebody else would have to undertake the task. At the same time, she felt it inc.u.mbent on her to give the girl some warning, or at least to find out how far her confidence in her lover went, in order to determine how advice could best be offered.

"I wonder if you feel quite sure you will be happy with Clarence?" she ventured.

"You have provoked the retort--were you convinced that you would be happy with Arthur Carew, when you made up your mind to marry him so suddenly?"

Bella's smile expressed forbearance. It was getting dark, but she could see the hot flush in her companion's cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes.

Neither was encouraging, but Bella was not easily, daunted, and she felt that her persistence was really meritorious, considering that until lately Millicent had never been cordial to her.

"Perhaps I'd better answer," she said sweetly. "I was sure of Arthur, and that means a good deal more than that I knew he was in love with me--I don't suppose you heard that he'd proposed to me once before?"

"Why didn't you take him then?" Millicent asked coldly. "Remember you have justified my being personal."

Bella grew rather hot--when Carew had made his first offer she had been in eager pursuit of Gladwyne--but she sternly suppressed a desire to retaliate.

"I don't think we need go into that," she replied. "As I said, I was sure of Arthur--I knew his character, knew he was better than I am, that he could be depended on. He's the kind of man one is safe with; I felt that the more I saw of him, the more I could trust him. Perhaps the feeling's a safer guide than pa.s.sion--it stands longer wear--and now I'm getting to like him better every day."

Her voice dropped to a tender note and Millicent felt a little astonished, and ashamed of her harshness. This was a new Bella, one in whose existence she could hardly have believed.

"I haven't quite finished, though I don't often talk like this," Bella went on. "I feel that without the confidence I've tried to describe marriage must be a terrible risk--one might find such ugly qualities in the man; even defects you could forgive beforehand would become so much worse when you had to suffer because of them. Of course, one can't expect perfection, but there ought to be something--honor, a good heart, a generous mind--that one can rely on as a sure foundation. When you have that, you can build, and even then the building may be difficult." She paused before she concluded: "My dear, I'm happier than I deserve to be; I have chosen wisely."

Nothing more was said for a few minutes, but Bella, studying her companion's face, was more or less content. Millicent's faith in Clarence was weak, she was forcing herself to believe in him; it might be possible to make her see her lover in his true character, though Bella had not yet determined on the exact course she would adopt. Then Carew called from the camp and she went back, while Millicent sat still with grave doubts in her heart. Bella's faith in her husband was warranted, and Millicent was enough of an optimist to believe that such men were not uncommon--there was Lisle, for example, and Nasmyth. With them one would undoubtedly have something to build a happy and profitable life upon--but what could be done with one in whom there was no foundation, only the shifting sands of impulses, or, perhaps, unsounded depths of weakness into which the painfully-raised edifice might crumble? She stove to convince herself that she was becoming wickedly hypercritical, thinking treasonably of her lover, particularly in contrasting him with her guide. There must be no more of that, and she rose and walked back to her tent with a resolution that cost her an effort.

In the meanwhile Lisle and Nasmyth were pushing on as fast as possible along the stony summit of the ridge. There was moonlight, which made it a little easier, but they stumbled every now and then. Here and there they were forced to scramble down the sides of a gully and on reaching the bottom to plunge into water, and once they had to scramble some distance shut in by the rocks before they could find a means of ascending. Still, they were hard and inured to fatigue, and they never slackened the pace.

When striding along a stretch of smoother ground Nasmyth gathered breath to speak.

"We were easily taken in," he declared; "though the thing was cunningly planned. Gladwyne took the packer with him and headed back at first, to divert suspicion. It would be easy enough to lose the man and turn down-stream again; and that he intended something of the kind is proved by his taking so much food with him. No doubt, he'd rather have avoided that, in case it looked suspicious, but he's had one hungry march over the same ground, and I dare say it was quite enough. Besides, he could defy us once he'd emptied and obliterated the caches."

"You understand the way your people's minds work better than I do," Lisle returned dryly.