Harold Bindloss

Harold Bindloss

Summary

Portrait of Harold Bindloss Harold Bindloss For the Allinson Honor

THE CACHE
The two prospectors forgot their weariness as they rushed to the dying fire. Carnally looked at the embers.
"Can't have been gone long," he declared.
"Shout, Jake!" cried Andrew. "I'm out of breath."
Carnally called, and Andrew's heart throbbed when a faint cry rose in answer. His anxiety had not been groundless: a lonely man runs many risks in the frozen North. Following the sound, they hastened up the ravine, and as they rounded a projecting boulder, a red glow flashed out a little distance ahead, died down, and rose more clearly.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Harold Bindloss Harold Bindloss For the Allinson Honor

It had been dark for several hours the next night when Andrew wearily toiled up a long rise dotted with ragged spruces. He was hungry and very cold, though he panted with the exertion he was forced to make. There was no feeling in his feet, which were bound to big snow-shoes; his hands were powerless in his thick mittens, and he carried a light ax under his arm. Fortunately, the trail they had broken when coming out led straight up the rise, and Carnally pressed on in front, a gray shape outlined against the glitter of the snow.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Harold Bindloss Harold Bindloss For the Allinson Honor

It was open weather; by comparison with the Canadian cold, the air was soft and mild. A gray sky hung above the hills, but there was a glimmer of pale red and saffron low in the west, and the rugged slopes, clothed with withered fern, shone a rich, warm brown. Then they dipped into a valley which struck Andrew, accustomed to the monotonous snow-glare, as wonderfully green. The shining riband of a river wound through its midst; clover growing among the stubble and broad strips of raw-red soil where sheep, netted in, stood about the turnip-cutters, checkered the pasture land.
Source: Gutenberg

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