Sergeant Inglis asked.

"He said he'd bought it. We're ready to swear to that, and we can give you the names of several more who heard him."

"I'll take them down. Where's Mitcham?"

They told him and he closed his notebook.

"You may be sent for from Edmonton later. Don't let these cases out of your sight until Private Cooper calls for them."

He went out and came back later with the trooper and a teamster they had hired, who loaded the cases on a sled. Sergeant Inglis, however, sat still in his saddle, with a watchful eye on Mitcham and another man who stood, handcuffed, at his horse's side. When the police had ridden off with their prisoners, Morgan, the engineer, sent for Kermode.

"I've seen the sergeant and he gave me an outline of the affair," he said. "It was cleverly thought out--I suppose the idea was yours?"

"I can't deny it," returned Kermode modestly.

"Well," said the other, "see that your friends and you begin work as usual to-morrow."

During the next two weeks Ferguson made some progress in repairing the damage to his church. He found several helpers, now that his strongest opponent had been removed. The weather, however, grew more severe and as the frost interfered with operations, men were freely dismissed. One day Morgan and the contractor's clerk sat talking in the latter's office.

"I'll have to cut out two or three teams," he said. "I don't know whom I ought to fire."

"Kermode," Morgan advised promptly.

The clerk looked surprised.

"Foreman reports him as a pretty good teamster. He strikes me as smart and capable," he objected.

"He is. In fact, that's the trouble. I like the man, but you had better get rid of him."

"You're giving me a curious reason."

Morgan smiled.

"I expect our plans for the winter may lead to some trouble with the boys; such work as we can carry on is going to be severe. Now do you think it prudent to provide them with a highly intelligent leader?"

"Guess you're right," the clerk agreed. "He'll have to go, though I'm sorry to part with him."

"I'll send him to another job nearer the coast," said Morgan.

The next day Kermode was informed of this decision and took it good-humoredly. Before leaving the camp he spent an evening with Ferguson, who expressed keen regret at his departure.

"I have an idea that I may have got you into trouble, and it hurts me,"

the minister said.

Kermode laughed in a rea.s.suring manner.

"It's likely that you're wrong; but I'm not the first man who has found a righteous cause unprofitable."

"That," Ferguson returned gravely, "is in one sense very true."

They sat up late, talking; and the next morning Kermode found means of sending Foster's horses back, and then resumed his journey.

CHAPTER XVII

THE Pa.s.sAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS

Kermode had been gone a fortnight when Prescott reached the camp and heard from Ferguson and others of his latest exploit. He smiled as he listened to their stories, but that he should find people willing to talk about the man did not surprise him. Kermode was not likely to pa.s.s unnoticed: his talents were of a kind that seized attention. Where he went there was laughter and sometimes strife; he had a trick of winning warm attachment, and even where his departure was not regretted he was remembered.

Ferguson insisted on taking Prescott in, for his comrade's sake, and late one evening he sat talking with him beside the stove. His house was rudely put together, shingle-roofed and walled with shiplap boards that gave out strong resinous odors. The joints were not tight and stinging draughts crept in. Deep snow lay about the camp and the frost was keen.

"I can't venture to predict Kermode's movements," said the clergyman. "It was his intention to make for a camp half-way to the coast, but he may change his mind long before he gets there."

"Yes," Prescott replied; "that's the kind of man he is."

Ferguson smiled.

"You and Kermode strike me as differing in many ways; yet you seem strongly attached to him."

"That's true," Prescott a.s.sented. "I can't see that I owe him anything, and he once led me into a piece of foolishness that n.o.body but himself could have thought of. I knew the thing was crazy, but I did it when he urged me, and I've regretted it ever since. Still, when I meet the fellow I expect I shan't have a word of blame for him."

"He's a man I had a strong liking for, though on many matters our points of view were opposite. However, I dare say it's something to be thankful for that we're not all made alike."

"Kermode's unique," Prescott explained. "I'm of the plodding kind and I find that consequences catch me up. Kermode's different: he plunges into recklessness and the penalty falls on somebody else."

"You don't mean by his connivance?"

"Never! It's the last thing I meant. Kermode never shirks. Bring a thing home to him and he'll face it, but somehow he generally escapes. There's the matter I mentioned--he and I played a fool trick, and while he rambles about the country, flinging a foreman down an embankment, a.s.sisting a lady in distress, posing as a temperance reformer, in his usual inconsequent way, I'm deep in trouble, and so are other people who don't deserve it. So far I've always reached the scene of his latest exploit soon after he had left; but the man must be found."

Ferguson laughed.

"What are you going to do about it?"

"Follow him to the Pacific, if necessary. As the country isn't opened up, he can't get off the line."

"I'm afraid you're going to have a very rough journey. 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 pa.s.ses now."

"Anyway," declared Prescott, "I have to get through."

Ferguson pondered the simple answer. It was, he thought, typical of the man, and the contrast between him and his friend became more forcible.

Kermode exercised a curious charm. His gay, careless nature made him excellent company, and he had a strain of somewhat eccentric genius; but he was irresponsible and erratic, one could not depend on him. The Canadian was of different temperament: slower, less subject to impulse, but more stubborn and more consistent. When dealing with him one would know what to expect. He would reason out a purpose and then unwaveringly adhere to it.