CHAPTER XVII
ALONE
The frost held for two days, and the men made small progress through the dusty snow. On the third it grew softer as they floundered wearily down into a valley, and Seaforth was aching in every limb when at last they halted at the edge of a river. Not far below them it plunged frothing into a gloomy canon, and the roar of its turmoil came out of the thin white vapour which curled through the stupendous portals of stream-worn stone. Seaforth felt moist and generally uncomfortable, as well as weary, for it was humid and a trifle warmer now, while his long boots were soaked, and at every step he dragged after him a clogging weight of snow. He leaned against a cedar, glad to rest a while, and glanced inquiringly at his comrade.
Alton, however, showed no sign of fatigue.
