"That's a matter for the pay-clerk when he comes along. If you quit without notice, he'll make trouble."

Kermode considered this; but he had about ten dollars in his pocket and he was not of provident nature. He decided that something must be left to chance, though the thought that he might have handled heavy rails for the contractor's exclusive benefit was strongly distasteful. Walking across the town, he paid a visit to Miss Foster.

"Can you ride?" he asked her.

"I haven't ridden for years."

"Perhaps you could manage a steady horse which wouldn't go faster than a walk?" he suggested.

"Yes." Then she hesitated. "But horses are expensive, and I have very little money left. Somehow, it seems to disappear rapidly in Canada."

"That's an annoying trick it has," Kermode laughed. "However, you had better start for Drummond this morning, and I'll go with you."

The girl looked dubious. She knew nothing about him, but his manner and appearance were in his favor, and her position was far from pleasant.

Mrs. Jasper, who had already presented what appeared to be an extortionate bill, seemed by no means anxious to keep her, and it might be a long time before she could communicate with her brother. How she was to hold out until he came to her a.s.sistance she could not tell.

"Thank you," she said, gathering her courage; and after promising that he would be back in an hour, Kermode went away.

He was a man who acted on impulse and, as a rule, the more unusual a course was the better it pleased him. In spite of her lameness Miss Foster was attractive, which, perhaps, had its effect, though he was mainly actuated by compa.s.sion and the monotony of his track-laying task.

He did not think the settlement, in which there were very few women, was the kind of place in which she could comfortably remain, particularly if her means were exhausted. Presently he met the livery-stable keeper driving in his buggy and motioned to him to pull up.

"How much will you charge for the hire of the roan, to go to Drummond?"

he asked, and the man named his charge.

"I'll give you eight dollars now and the balance when I come back."

"No sir!" replied the other firmly. "You might fix up to stay there."

"Will an order on the railroad pay-clerk satisfy you?"

"It won't. If you want the horse, you must put the money down."

"Then I can't make the deal."

The man drove on, but Kermode was not to be daunted by such a difficulty; besides, he had noticed Jim, the hired man, dawdling about the outside of the stable. When the buggy was out of sight, he accosted him.

"I want the roan in half an hour," he said. "I see you have Mrs. Leaver's saddle here, and as she's away, you had better put it on. I'm going to take the lady you saw with me to Drummond."

"S'pose you have seen the boss about it?"

"You must have noticed me talking to him," Kermode replied curtly. "Bring the horse along to Mrs. Jasper's as soon as you're ready."

Then he returned to the hotel and wrote a note which he gave the bar-tender, instructing him to let the proprietor of the livery-stable have it when he came in for dinner. After this he succeeded in borrowing a small tent, and when he had supplied himself with provisions he hurried toward the widow's shack. The horse was already there, and when he had strapped on the folded tent and Miss Foster's bag he helped her to mount, and set off, carrying his blankets and stores in a pack on his back. He showed no sign of haste and chatted gaily, though he was anxious to get out of the town as soon as possible, because he did not know when the stable-keeper would return.

It was a clear morning; the girl looked brighter after her night's rest, and the fresh air brought a fine color into her face. 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. He thought it might be wiser to keep to the south of the line he would be expected to take, though this would entail the crossing of rougher country. Reaching the edge of a stream, he stopped and regarded it with some concern. It ran fast between great boulders and looked deep, but as there was no sign of a better crossing he warned the girl to hold on, and led the horse in.

After a few paces he sank above his knees, and found it hard to keep his footing and the horse's head upstream. The roan was slipping badly among the stones and the hem of his companion's skirt was getting wet. He was pleased to notice that she did not look unduly alarmed.

"We'll be across in another minute or two," he said as cheerfully as he could.

She smiled at him rather dubiously and at the next step he sank deeper and dragged the horse round as he clung to the bridle. The roan plunged savagely and the water rippled about Kermode's waist as he struggled for a foothold on the slippery stones. With a desperate effort he managed to find firmer bottom and soon came out on a strip of shingle. Stopping there for a few moments, he gathered breath while the girl looked about.

They were in the bottom of a deep gorge filled with the sound of running water and sweet resinous scents. Here the torrent flashed in bright sunshine; there it flowed, streaked with foam, through dim shadow, while somber pines towered above it. There was no sound or sign of human life; they had entered the gates of the wilderness.

"Where do we go next?" the girl asked.

"Up this slope," said Kermode. "Then among the pines, across the hills, and high plains, into a lonely land. I don't suppose we'll see a house until we get to Drummond."

"Do you know the way?"

"I don't," Kermode said cheerfully. "I've never been here before, but I'm accustomed to traveling about the prairie, where trails are scarce. You don't look daunted."

There was a hint of pleasurable excitement in his companion's laugh.

"Oh," she replied, "adventures appeal to me, and I've never met with any.

For three years since my brother left, I've led a life of drudgery; and before that, half the pleasures I might have had were denied me by an accident."

Recognizing a kindred nature, Kermode looked sympathetic. She was evidently alluding to her lameness, which must prove a heavy handicap to a girl of the active, sanguine temperament he thought she possessed.

"In a way, it was a great adventure for you to come out here alone over the new road," he said.

"I thought so last night," she confessed with a smile. "When I reached the settlement and found I could get no farther, I was really scared.

Now, however, all my fears have gone. I suppose it's the sunshine and this glorious air."

"Well, we had better get on. I'm afraid you'll have to walk a while."

She let him lift her down, with no sign of prudishness or coquetry, and he led the horse uphill while she followed. Her att.i.tude pleased him, because he had no desire for philandering, although he was content to act as protector and guide. Still, while he adapted his pace to the girl's he thought about her. Her rather shabby attire and scanty baggage hinted that she had not been used to affluence; but she showed signs of possessing a vigorous, well-trained mind, and he decided that she must have been a teacher.

When they reached the top of the ascent, she mounted and they went on among scattered clumps of pines and across a tableland as fast as he could travel, because it seemed prudent to place as long a distance as possible between them and the settlement. He had left the place with a valuable horse and saddle which he had not paid for, and he was very dubious whether the livery-stable keeper would be satisfied with the promises he had left. Accordingly he only stopped for half an hour at noon; and evening was near when he helped the girl down and picketed the horse beside a small birch bluff, and set up the tent.

"There are provisions in my pack and you might lay out supper, but I don't think we'll make a fire to-night," he said. "I'll be back in about half an hour; I want to see what lies beyond the top of yonder ridge."

She let him go, and he climbed between slender birches to the summit of a long rise, where he lay down and lighted his pipe. From his lofty position he commanded a wide sweep of country--hills whose higher slopes were still bathed in warm light, valleys filled with cool blue shadow, straggling ranks of somber pines. The air was sharp and wonderfully bracing; the wilderness, across which he could wander where he would, lured him on. Irresponsible and impatient of restraint, as he was, he delighted in the openness and solitude. For all that, he concentrated his gaze on one particular strip of bare hillside. At its foot ran the gorge they had crossed, but it had now grown narrow and precipitous, a deep chasm wrapped in shadow. He did not think a horse could be led down into it, which was consoling, because if any pursuit had been attempted, it would follow the opposite side, near which a trail ran.

After a while his vigilance was rewarded, and he smiled when three very small figures of mounted men appeared on the hillslope. They were going back disappointed, and he did not think he had much to fear from them.

Wages were high about the settlement, where everybody was busy, and the liveryman would, no doubt, find the search too costly to persist in. When the hors.e.m.e.n had vanished, he returned to the camp, and Miss Foster glanced at him keenly.

"Supper's quite ready; you have been some time," she said. "What did you see from the top?"

"Mountains, woods and valleys. They were well worth looking at in the sunset light."

"And what else? As you live in this country, you didn't go up for the view."

Kermode saw that she was suspicious, and thought her too intelligent to be put off with an excuse.

"I'll admit that I wasn't greatly surprised to see three men a long way off. They were riding back to the settlement and I dare say they were angry as well as tired."

"Ah!" she said. "You wouldn't light a fire, though you have a package of tea here and there's a spring near-by. You thought it wouldn't be prudent?"