He was even more on his guard after this.
For several hours after his brief fit of talking Blake made no
effort to resume the conversation nor any desire to answer Philip
when the latter spoke to him. A number of times it struck Philip
that he was going the pace that would tire out both man and beast
before night. He knew that in Blake's shaggy head there was a
brain keenly and dangerously alive, and he noted the extreme
effort he was making to cover distance with a satisfaction that
was not unmixed of suspicion. By three o'clock in the afternoon
they were thirty-five miles from the cabin in which Blake had
become a prisoner. All that distance they had traveled through a
treeless barren without a sign of life. It was between three and
four when they began to strike timber once more, and Philip asked
himself if it had been Blake's scheme to reach this timber before
dusk. In places the spruce and banskian pine thickened until they
formed dark walls of forest and whenever they approached these
patches Philip commanded Blake to take the middle of the river.
Pages:
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255