"Go back and make your traverse," he said.

"Forty north with the gully over the fork of the river." "Forty," said Seaforth, "and a half." "Well," said Alton, "whatever you don't remember, hold tight on to that." Seaforth felt the depression he had shaken off return to him.

"There are," he said slowly, "few things that you forget." Alton, glancing at him, understood, and then turned his eyes towards the snow of the wilderness.

"It's the man that can't look forward who gets left," he said.

"Now something might stop me coming back with you for that grub." Seaforth said nothing, and he was a little graver than usual as they packed the tent and blankets on the remaining horse, and an extra load upon their own backs.