We must wait an hour; then I may be able to form some opinion." Harding lighted his pipe, and, though he found it strangely hard to sit still, he smoked steadily.

His mouth grew dry with the strain he was bearing, but he refilled the pipe as it emptied, and bit savagely on its stem, crushing the wood between his teeth.

There was, so far as he could see, no change in Blake, and he was stirred by a deep pity and a daunting sense of loneliness.

He knew now that he had grown to love the man; Blake's quick resourcefulness had overcome many of the obstacles they had met with, his whimsical humor had lightened the toilsome march, and often when they were wet and worn out be had banished their dejection by a jest.

Now it looked as if they would hear his cheerful laugh no more; and Harding felt that, if the worst came, he would, in a sense, be accountable for his partner's death.