Wyllard nodded. "Dunton of the _Cypress_ got your message," he said. "He was in difficulties then, but he afterwards sent it me."
"Well," said Lewson, "there isn't much more to it. We hung about the beach awhile, and then went north before the winter. Jake played out on the trail. By and bye he had to let up, and in a day or two I buried him."
He spread his hands out, and his voice grew hoarse. "After that it didn't seem to matter what became of me, but I kept the trail somehow, and found I couldn't stay up yonder. That's why I started south with some of them before the summer came. Now I'm here--talking English--talking with white men--but it doesn't seem the same as it should have been--without the others."
He broke off, and said no more that night, but Wyllard translated part of his story for the benefit of Overweg. The latter made a little expressive gesture.
"The thing, it seems incredible," he commented. "This man, who has so little to tell, knows things which would make a trained explorer famous."
"It generally happens that way," said Wyllard with a dry smile. "The men who know can't tell."
Overweg made a sign of assent, and then changed the subject.
"Start for the inlet where we expect to find the schooner at sunrise. I want to say"--and Wyllard hesitated--"that you have laid an obligation on me which I can never repay; but I can, at least, replace the provisions you have supplied me with."
"That goes for nothing," said the other with a smile. "I have, however, drawn upon my base camp rather heavily, and should be glad of any stores from the schooner that you could let me have. The difficulty is that I do not wish to go too far towards the beach."
They arranged a rendezvous a day or two's march from the inlet, and in another half-hour all of them were fast asleep.
When the first of the daylight came Wyllard set off with his two companions, and since it was evident that Dampier must have now lain in the inlet awaiting them a considerable time, they marched fast for several days. Then to their consternation they came upon the Siwash lying beside a river badly lame. It appeared that in climbing a slippery ridge of rock the knee he had injured had given way, and he had fallen some distance heavily, after which the Kamtchadale finding him helpless had disappeared with most of the provisions. None of the party ever learned what had become of him, but they realised in the meanwhile that the situation was now a rather serious one. Charly, who looked at Wyllard when he had heard the Indian's story, explained it concisely.