Part 24 (1/2)

”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.