unfit you are to brave exposure to cold, and long marches over
the snow."

Irritated beyond endurance by Crayford's obstinacy; seeing, or
thinking he saw, signs of yielding in Frank's face, Wardour so
far forgot himself as to seize Crayford by the arm and attempt to
drag him away from Frank. Crayford turned and looked at him.

"Richard," he said, very quietly, "you are not yourself. I pity
you. Drop your hand."

Wardour relaxed his hold, with something of the sullen submission
of a wild animal to its keeper. The momentary silence which
followed gave Frank an opportunity of speaking at last.

"I am gratefully sensible, Crayford," he began, "of the interest
which you take in me--"

"And you will follow my advice?" Crayford interposed, eagerly.

"My mind is made up, old friend," Frank answered, firmly and
sadly. "Forgive me for disappointing you. I am appointed to the
expedition. With the expedition I go." He moved nearer to
Wardour. In his innocence of all suspicion he clapped Wardour
heartily on the shoulder. "When I feel the fatigue," said poor
simple Frank, "you will help me, comrade--won't you? Come along!"

Wardour snatched his gun out of the hands of the sailor who was
carrying it for him. His dark face became suddenly irradiated
with a terrible joy.