For all that, he pushed on as fast as possible. The warning he had been given was indefinite, but it looked as if a train was shortly expected and the locomotive, with its outside cylinders, would not give them much room. He imagined that refuges would be provided at intervals, but did not know where to find them. Now and then they stopped to listen, but heard nothing. There was deep silence, which was a relief, and they blundered on again as fast as they could. It was rather daunting work and one could not make much speed, but when a faint, m.u.f.fled throbbing reached them they began to run.

Foster had no means of guessing the length of the shed, and as he slipped among the ballast looked anxiously in front, but could not see the glimmering patch of light he expected. The darkness was impenetrable, but the contour of the hillside had indicated that the shed was curved, and the outlet might be nearer than he thought. In the meantime, the sweat ran down his face and his breath came hard. He was in good training, for his journeys among the Scottish hills had strengthened his muscles, but the footing was bad among the stones, and he labored through them awkwardly with set lips and clenched hands. He thought of throwing away his heavy coat, but it would take a few moments to get it off and he must put down the bag, in which there was the letter he would need. By and by his foot struck something and lurching forward he lost his balance and came down heavily. The blow shook him and he was a little slow in getting up until he felt a rail he put his hand on quiver. Then he scrambled to his feet, but could not find the bag.

"I hae't," said Pete, who seized his arm and urged him forward.

A deep snorting reached them and a tie he trod on trembled, but as he ran savagely with labored breath there was an elusive glimmer in the dark ahead. It grew brighter, an irregularly-shaped white patch appeared, and making a tense effort while the ballast rolled beneath his feet, he staggered into the sunshine. Then with a gasp of keen relief he threw himself upon the snow beside the track.

About a hundred yards away, a giant locomotive toiled up the incline, hurling out clouds of smoke that streamed far back among the pines.

The road bed shook and the hillside rang with the din of wheels. While Foster lay panting, the locomotive labored past, and then long, flat cars, on which men sat upon the load of jarring rails, clanged by. The black mouth of the shed swallowed them, a cloud of smoke and dusty snow curled about the opening, and the uproar suddenly sank to a m.u.f.fled rumble. This died away and the deep silence of the mountains was emphasized by the sound of the river.

"We were not much too soon," Foster said with a breathless laugh. "Now I come to think of it, there's no obvious reason we shouldn't have stopped on board the train and got our lunch comfortably. I seem to have a habit of doing unusual and unnecessary things; it's curious how soon you get into trouble when you indulge a bent like that."

"Yon's a verra true remairk," Pete agreed. "It's a rough and th.o.r.n.y world, an' if ye will not walk in the cleared paths but gang yere air gait, ye must struggle with the briars."

"And scramble through snowsheds? You Scots are a philosophical lot.

But do you call poaching sticking to the beaten path?"

"I'm thinking it's as near it as stravaging aboot the Border mosses, when ye might gang by train."

"A fair hit! But after all, man wears the regulation paths so deep that he can't get out when he wants. What about the pioneers, who blaze the new trails? Aren't they needed?"

"Whiles, maybe," Pete answered grinning. "For a' that, they maun tak'

the consequences. Do ye feel it's yere business to break a new road?"

"Certainly not! I'm not a philanthropist and would be quite satisfied with making things a little easier for myself and my friends, but am much afraid I haven't succeeded yet. In fact, there's one friend in England who's very far from grateful. But the question is--Why did I leave the train?"

"Ye just felt ye had to?"

"I think I did. But why did I feel that?"

Pete chuckled. "There ye have me! This I ken; whiles when I had a hare or a few paltrig in the lining o' my auld coat and cam' to a slap in a d.y.k.e, I had a kind o' feeling yon was no' the road for me. I couldna' tell there was a keeper hiding on the ither side; but I didna'

gang. Maybe it's better no' to argue but follow yere heart."

"No," said Foster, "I imagine it's really better to follow your head.

In the meantime, I've had no lunch and think we'll get on."

They came to a wide hollow in the hills where the snow was deep and loose. The sun was shut out and the frost was keen, while Foster saw by the lengthening shadow of the pines across the river that the afternoon was wearing on. A glance at his watch showed that he had been walking for nearly three hours, but there was no sign of the hotel. Dark ma.s.ses of trees ran up from the water to the line of summer snow, and no roof or curl of smoke broke their somber monotony.

High above, the peaks glittered with a steely brightness that seemed to intensify the cold.

Their breath hung about them as they plodded on, but at length, when they came to the middle of the bend, where the hills curved out again, there was a break and they stopped at the end of a bridge. The low sun shone into the gap, which was profoundly deep and majestically beautiful. On its farther side, tremendous crags held up the snow, which trickled down their faces in thin gray streaks and stretched back above, steeped in soft blue shadow. On Foster's side, giant pines glimmered a bright green in the warm light, running up to a glittering slope that ended in two rugged peaks, and a river that sprang from a wrinkled glacier foamed through the dusky gorge. Where a small clearing had been cut in the forest, steep red roofs stood out in harmonious contrast with the green of the firs, and a picturesque wooden building with pillars and verandas occupied the greater part of the opening.

"If the place is as attractive inside, it's worth the walk," Foster remarked. "You appreciate your quarters best when you've had some trouble to get there."

"I'm thinking that's true. The peat fire and the auld rush chair in the bit cothouse are weel worth winning to when ye come through the rain and wind ower the dark moss. This is a gran' country, but it's no' like that ither amang the Border fells."

Foster stood for a few moments and mused, for he sympathized with Pete.

He remembered the satisfaction with which he had seen the lights of a lonely inn or farmstead twinkle when he tramped, wet and tired, across the Scottish moors. They were bleak and often forbidding, but had a charm one felt but could not a.n.a.lyze, with the half-lights that trembled across them and their subdued coloring. In spite of some hardships, he had been happy in the misty, rain-swept land, but he knew it had been touched by the glamour of romance. That was over. He was on his probation in utilitarian Canada, and very much at a loss; but he meant to make good somehow and go forward, trusting in his luck.

"Well," he said, "I'm hungry and we'll get on. I hope they won't make us wait for supper, though they'll no doubt call it dinner at a place like this."

Five minutes afterwards he stamped the snow off his boots as he entered a gla.s.s-fronted veranda in front of the hotel. It was comfortably furnished, warm, and occupied by three people. A lady sat with some sewing at a table, and a very pretty girl, holding a cigarette case, leaned over the side of a basket chair, in which a man reclined.

Foster, who imagined he was an invalid by his slack pose, was pa.s.sing on to the main door when the man moved. As he turned to take a cigarette Foster saw his face.

"Lawrence!" he exclaimed.

"Jake!" said the other, and would have got up, but the girl put her hand restrainingly on his arm.

Foster stood still for a moment, overcome by surprise and satisfaction, but understanding what he saw. The lady with the sewing was studying him, but he did not resent this and thought he would like her. The girl divided her attention between him and his comrade, whom she restrained with a pretty air of authority. She obviously knew who Foster was and felt curious, but meant to take care of Lawrence. There was something in her protective manner that Foster found singularly charming. Then Lawrence beckoned and held out his hand.

"I'm uncommonly glad to see you, Jake, but how did you get here?"

"Why aren't you in California?"

They both laughed and Lawrence turned to the lady.

"This is my neglectful partner, as I dare say you have guessed. Mrs.

Stephen, of Victoria, Jake."

She gave Foster her hand and he was next presented to Miss Lucy Stephen. Then Lawrence indicated Pete, who waited, looking very big and muscular but quite at ease.

"Who's this and where did you get him? I'll engage that he was born between Ettrick and Liddel."

"He kens!" Peter remarked with a twinkle. "My name's no' far frae Ettrick, sir."

"My friend, Pete Scott," said Foster. "You have heard the ladies'

names, Pete, but this is my partner, Mr. Featherstone, from the Garth."

Pete lifted his hand to his forehead and the movement had a touch of dignity. "Your servant, all; an' if ye'll alloo it, Mr. Foster's friends are mine."

Lawrence laughed. "A very proper sentiment, and a true Borderer! But you haven't told us how you found him, Jake."

"It's a long tale," said Foster. "Besides, I'm hungry. So I expect is Pete."

Lucy Stephen rang a bell. "Tea ought to be ready. We often take it here."

The tea was brought a few minutes afterwards and when Lucy gave him his cup Foster sat in a basket chair studying his comrade. Lawrence's face was pinched and his pose languid, but Foster thought he was not so ill as he had been. He did not know how much he ought to ask and had decided to wait until they were alone when Lawrence smiled.

"You needn't be alarmed, partner. I'm very much better than I was and will soon be quite fit again."

"We have good ground for hoping so," Lucy Stephen added in a friendly tone, and Foster thought she had noted his anxiety and liked him for it.

Her remark seemed to warrant his looking at her and he approved what he saw. The girl was attractive and had character, but what struck him at first sight was the protective gentleness she showed his comrade. He liked her eyes, which were a soft, clear blue, while her supple figure and warm-tinted skin hinted that she was vigorous. It was plain that she had not Alice Featherstone's reserve and pride, nor he thought the depth of tenderness that the latter hid. She was softer and more pliable, for Alice was marked by an unflinching steadfastness. He smiled as he admitted that for him Alice stood alone on an unapproachable plane.

"But how did you get ill?" he asked.

"I was left on an icy _couloir_," Lawrence replied. "When they found me I was half-frozen, but it makes a story that's probably as long as yours. I'll tell it you later. How's our Borderer getting on?"

Foster turned to Pete, who had a large, hot Canadian biscuit on his plate. "This kind of meal isn't very common in this country, Pete.

Perhaps I'd better warn you that there'll be another by and by."