Masters of the Wheat-Lands Part 45

"It is said so. My name is Overweg--Albrecht Overweg. As to you, it appears you do not understand Russian."

Wyllard drew a little nearer, and sat down upon a boulder. Now that the tension had slackened, his weariness had once more become almost insupportable, and he felt that he might need his strength and senses.

He was bewildered by the encounter, for it was certainly astonis.h.i.+ng in that desolate wilderness to fall in with a man who spoke three civilized languages and wore spectacles.

"No," he replied, after a slight pause, "it is almost the first time I have heard Russian spoken."

"Ah," responded the other, "there is a certain significance in that admission, my friend. May I inquire where you have come from, and what you are doing here?"

Wyllard, who had no desire to give him any information concerning the quest for his lost comrades, pointed towards the east.

"That is where I come from. As to my business at the moment you will excuse me. It is perhaps not a rudeness to ask what is yours."

The stranger laughed. "Caution, it seems, is necessary; and to the east, where you have pointed, there is only the sea. I will, however, tell you my business. It is science, and not"--he seemed to add this with a certain significance--"in any way connected with the administration of the country."

Wyllard was conscious of a vast relief on hearing this, but as he was not quite sure that he could believe it, he felt that prudence was still advisable. In any case, he could not let the stranger go away until he had learned whether there were any more white men with him. He sat still, thinking hard for a moment or two.

"You have a camp somewhere near?" he asked at length.

"Certainly," replied the man. "You will come back with me, or shall I come to yours?"

"There are several of you?"

"Besides myself, two Kamtchadales."

"Then," said Wyllard, "I will come with you. I have left two comrades a little further down the ravine. Will you wait until I bring them?"

The stranger made a sign of a.s.sent, and sitting down upon a ledge of rock took out a cigar. Wyllard now felt more sure of him, since it was evident that had he meditated any treachery he would naturally have preferred him to make the visit unattended. In any case, it seemed likely that he would have something to eat in his camp.

Wyllard plodded back down the ravine, and when he returned with his comrades Overweg was still sitting there in the gathering darkness. He greeted them with a wave of his hand, and rising, silently led the way up the hollow until they came in sight of a little tent that glimmered beneath a rock. There was a light inside the tent and two dusky figures were silhoueted against the canvas. Overweg drew the flap back, and the light shone upon his face as he signed them to enter. Wyllard, standing still a moment, looked at him steadily, and then, seeing a rea.s.suring smile, went in.

Overweg called to one of the Kamtchadales, who came in and busied himself about the cooking-lamp. The three famished men sat down with a sense of luxurious content among the skins that were spread upon the ground sheet. After the raw cold outside the tent was very snug and warm. Wyllard said little, however, and Overweg made no attempt at conversation until the Kamtchadale laid out a meal, when he watched his guests with a smile while they ate voraciously. He had stripped off his furs, and with his knees drawn up sat on one of the skins. He was a little, plump, round-faced man, with tow-colored hair, and eyes that gleamed shrewdly behind his spectacles.

"Shall I open another can?" he asked presently.

"No," answered Wyllard. "We owe you thanks enough already. Provisions are evidently plentiful with you."

Overweg nodded. "I have a base camp two or three days' journey back," he explained. "It is possible that I shall make a depot. We brought our stores up from the south with dog sleds before the snow grew soft, but it is necessary for me to push on further. My business, you understand, is the scientific survey; to report upon the natural resources of the country."

He paused, and his manner changed a little when he went on again. "I have," he added, "to this extent taken you into my confidence, and I invite an equal candor. Two things are evident. You have made a long journey, and your French is not that one hears in Paris."

"First of all," said Wyllard, "I must ask again, are you a Russian?"

Overweg shrugged his shoulders. "My name, which I have told you, is not Slavonic, and it may be admitted that I was born in Bavaria. In the meanwhile, it is true that I have been sent on a mission by the Russian Government."

"I wonder," remarked Wyllard reflectively, "how far you consider your duty towards your employers goes."

Overweg's eyes twinkled. "It covers all that can be ascertained about the geological structure and the fauna of the country, especially the fauna that produce marketable furs. At present I am not convinced that it goes very much further."

It was clear to Wyllard that he was already in this man's hands, since he could not reach the inlet without provisions, and Overweg could, if he thought fit, send back a messenger to the Russian authorities. He was one who could think quickly and make a momentous decision, and he realized that if he could not win the man's sympathy there must be open hostility between them.

"In that case I think I may tell you what has brought me here," he said.

"If you have traveled much in Kamtchatka you can, perhaps, help me. To begin with, I sailed from Vancouver, in Canada, nearly a year ago."

It required some time to make his errand clear, and then Overweg looked at him with an inscrutable expression.

"It is," said the scientist, "a tale that in these days one finds some little difficulty in believing. Still, it must be admitted that I am acquainted with one fact which appears to substantiate it."

As he saw the blood rise to Wyllard's forehead he broke off with a laugh.

"My friend," he added, "is it permitted to offer you my felicitations?

The men who would attempt a thing of this kind are, I think, singularly rare."

"What is the fact that gives me at least partial credence?" asked Wyllard, impatiently.

"There is a Kamtchadale in my base camp who told me of a place where a white man was buried some distance to the west of us. He spoke of a second white man, but n.o.body, I understand, knows what became of him."

Wyllard straightened himself suddenly. "You will send for that Kamtchadale?"

"a.s.suredly. The tale you have told me has stirred my curiosity. As my path lies west up the river valley, we can, if it pleases you, go on for a while together."

Wyllard, who thanked him, turned to Charly with a sigh of relief.

"It seems that we shall not bring those men back, but I think we may find out where they lie," he said.

Charly made no comment, for this was the most he had expected, and a few minutes later there was silence in the little tent when the men lay down to sleep among the skins.

They started at sunrise next morning, and followed the river slowly by easy stages until the man sent back to Overweg's base camp overtook them with another Kamtchadale. Then they pushed on still further inland, and it was a week later when one evening their guide led them up to a little pile of stones upon a lonely ridge of rock. There were two letters very rudely cut on one of the stones, and Wyllard, who stooped down beside it, took off his cap when he rose.

"There's no doubt that Jake Leslie lies here," he said. Looking at Overweg, he asked, "Your man is sure there was only one white man who buried him?"

Overweg spoke to the Kamtchadale, who answered:

"There was only one white man. It seems he went inland afterwards--at least a year ago."

Wyllard turned to Charly, and his face was very grave. "That makes it certain that two of them have died. There was one left, and he may be dead by this time." He made a forceful gesture. "If one only knew!"

Charly made no answer. He was not a man of education or much imagination, but like others of his kind he had alternately borne many privations in the wilderness, logging, prospecting, trail-cutting about the remoter mines, and at sea. As one result of this there crept into his mind some recognition of what the outcast who lay at rest beside their feet had had to face--the infinite toil of the march, the black despair, the blinding snow, and Arctic frost. He met his leader's gaze with a look of comprehending sympathy.

By what grim efforts and primitive devices their comrade had clung to life for a time, it seemed probable they would never know, but they clearly realized that, though some might call it an illegal raid, or even piracy, it was a work of mercy this outlaw had undertaken when he was cast away. In the command to swing the boats over and face the roaring surf in the darkness of the night he had heard the clear call of duty, and had fearlessly obeyed. His obedience had cost him much, but as the man who had come so far to search for him looked down upon the little pile of stones there in the desolate wilderness, there awoke within him a sure recognition of the fact that this was not the end.

That, at least, was unthinkable. His comrade, putting off the half-frozen, suffering flesh, had gone on to join the immortals with his duty done.

It was with warmth at his heart and a slight haziness in his eyes that Wyllard turned away at length, but when he put on his fur cap again he was more determined than ever to carry out the search. There were many perils and difficulties to be faced, but he felt that he must not flinch.

"One man went inland," he said to Overweg. "I must go that way, too."

The little spectacled scientist looked at him curiously.

"Ah," he replied, "the road your comrade traveled is a hard one. You have seen what it leads to."