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For McIvor was a man to "tie to," as Martin said, and to Cameron he was a continual cause of wonder and admiration.
We shall have a few days there, and as many more in Oxford, where Walter has some engagements with old friends, and then to Southampton and home. We all sail October first, all except Ian McIvor, who comes over in December for a very important event. You and Allen must come some time, and visit with us the châteaux that we have seen, and see the others that we have not yet visited.
But to McIvor and his gang it was all in the day's work. To Cameron the winter had brought an experience of a life hitherto undreamed of, but never even in its wildest blizzards did he cherish anything but gratitude to his friend Martin, who had got him attached to McIvor's survey party.
It was proved that the Prophet's real name was McIvor, that he had a wife living, and that this wife was a sister to the murdered carman, Peter Magennis. After the murder, McIvor fled to America with his daughter, and his wife lost sight of him. She had only returned to these parts recently, and she identified the skeleton of her brother because of a certain malformation of the foot.
He remembered hearing McIvor tell how the Stonies never went on a hunting expedition without their hymn books and never closed a day without their evening worship. The voices were high-pitched and thin, but from that distance they floated up soft and sweet.
Breakfast over, McIvor heaved his great form to the perpendicular. "How is the foot, Cameron?" he asked, filling his pipe preparatory to the march. "Just about fit," replied Cameron. "Better take another day," replied the chief. "You can get up wood and get supper ready. Benoit will be glad enough to go out and take your place for another day on the line."
It was not the courage of his big chief so much that had filled Cameron with amazed respect and admiration as the calm indifference to every consideration but that of getting his men out of harm's way, and the cool-headed directness of the method he employed. "Come along, boys," McIvor had said, gripping them by their coat collars. "I don't pay you good money for this sort of thing."
I don't know what side old Tom would have taken if it had not been for young Sam. Judging by his usual conduct, I suspect that he would have stood with his arms folded, and let the rest, as he would have said, fight it out by themselves. At daylight the boat pulled away with Mr McIvor and another additional hand, taking a couple of muskets with them.
Rives said that both Red McIvor and a man named Podmore were after the money and he was afraid that if they secured it they would steal it whereas he, Rives, was anxious to restore it to the rightful owner. If Jimmy would help him to do this, get the money and turn it over to him, he would see that he was suitably rewarded.
"Here comes the torchlight parade. Get a wiggle on. Looks like they was goin' to set the woods on fire!" All three sprang to their feet in consternation. For the time being they had forgotten all about the McIvor gang. Kendrick joined McCorquodale on the run.
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