It will be a tough march to reach the cache now." Grenfell made a little gesture.
"Well," he said, "we'll go up and see." They went up, part of the way on their hands and knees, and then, though the slope was less steep, both of them hung back when they neared the crest of the divide.

There was still a faint probability that their journey had not been futile, and they clung to it desperately.

Grenfell went first, and, when he reached the crest, stood stone still with his back to Weston, who held his breath as he scrambled after him.

Then Grenfell, turning a little toward him, suddenly flung out a pointing hand.
The head of the valley stretched away beneath them, but there was no gleam from a lonely lake in the midst of it.

From hillside to hillside the close ranks of somber firs ran unbroken.
Weston's face grew hard and grim.
"That's the end," he said hoarsely.