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"It would be awkward to let these fellows quit," the engineer protested. "If you would tell the foreman to send the boys I'll mention ahead up the track, so they couldn't get back before evening, and give two of us a day off, it would get over the difficulty." When he heard the names the engineer looked hard at Kermode. "Has this request any connection with the collapse of Mr. Ferguson's church?"
"Bring him in!" replied a voice, and Prescott entered the building. It contained a pump and two large steel tanks. Near one of them a man was doing something with a drill, but he took out his pipe and pointed to a piece of sacking laid on a beam. "Sit down and have a smoke," he said. "You have plenty of time. Was Kermode a friend of yours?" Prescott looked about the place.
The sound grew plainer, and when Kermode shouted, an answer came out of the gathering darkness. Then a moving shape appeared from behind the bluff, and a minute or two later the newcomer pulled up his team. "Well," he said, "what do you want?" "Tom!" cried the girl excitedly. The man sprang down, and Kermode needed no explanation.
"It has its drawbacks now and then," declared Kermode, smiling. "Anyway, you needn't imagine you're shut off from everything of the kind. You took a big risk and faced a startling change when you came out here." "So I felt. Though I had misgivings, the thought of it drew me." "I understand. You have courage, the greatest gift, and you felt circumscribed at home.
The track's surveyed and blazed; they're working at it in sections, but there are big gaps where nothing has been done yet, and they have been withdrawing a large number of men. Crossing the mountains is a tough proposition in the winter." "Kermode didn't seem afraid of it." "He started two weeks ago, when there had been less snow. You'll find it difficult to get through the passes now."
Kermode kept her laughing with his light chatter, but he was nevertheless glad when they reached the shadow of the pines, where they could travel faster without attracting attention. After half an hour's rapid walking, he left the trail, which ran on toward Drummond for a day's journey before it stopped at a ranch, and turned down into the valley.
The expedition had only to go on or wait until it met them; but Kermode did not envy the man whose duty it would be to ride across the open waste to the lonely post where Sergeant Inglis might be found. Resting, however, was out of the question.
By degrees the foreman's gibes grew less frequent. Kermode was more than a match for him, and his barbed replies were repeated with laughter about the camp; but his oppressor now relied on galling commands which could not be disobeyed. Kermode's companions sympathized with him, and waited for the inevitable rupture, which they thought would take a dramatic shape.
Half a dozen men were present, steady and rather grim toilers with saw and shovel, and though two or three had been born in Ontario, all were of Scottish extraction. Their hard faces wore a singularly resolute expression when Kermode entered. "Boys," he said, "before we begin I'd better mention that taking a part in a church assembly is a new thing to me."
There were further warnings, but they held on, until Kermode raised his voice harshly: "A good shove, boys, and let her go!" They stopped, exhausted, but the dump rolled on with its heavy load of rock, struck the guard-beams at the end of the track and smashed through them. Then with a crash and a roar the big steel car plunged down the slope, plowing up the gravel, hurling out massive stones.
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