The frost got more rigorous, drying the snow to a dusty powder in which Festing's lumber gang floundered awkwardly. Had there been a thaw, the surface would have hardened, but now they were forced to move the logs through loose, billowy drifts. The men sank to their knees, it was difficult to find a fulcrum for the handspikes, and the logs would not run well on the beaten roads. The latter broke into holes, and the dry snow retarded the smooth sliding of the lumber like dust. One could not touch a saw or ax-head with the naked hand.

Festing had seen that he might be embarrassed by hard frost, but had not expected it to continue. On the central tablelands of British Columbia winter is severe, but near the coast and in valleys open to the West the mitigating warmth of the Pacific is often felt. He had imagined that when his work upon the track was hindered the snow would help him to bring down lumber ready for use when a thaw set in. Now, however, wages were mounting up and little work was being done. He began to wonder what would happen if a change did not come.

One morning he knelt in a hole below the track, holding a drill. He wore mittens, but the back of one was split and showed a raw bruise on his skin. It needs practise to hit the end of a drill squarely, and Charnock, who swung the big hammer, had missed. The worst was that the bruise would not heal while the temperature kept low. They were sinking a hole through frozen gravel that was worse to cut than rock, because the drill jambed in the crevices and would not turn. But for the frost, they need not have used the tool; a hole for the post they meant to put in could have been made with a shovel, without using expensive powder.

When he thought they had gone deep enough Festing got up and looked about. White peaks glittered against a vivid blue sky. The pines sparkled with frost and the snow in their shadow was a soft gray. The river looked as black as ink, except where it foamed among the rocks, and the gorge echoed with the crash of drifting ice that shocked and splintered on the ledges. The light was strong, and rocks and trees far up the slopes stood out, harshly distinct. As he turned to the West, however, he noted a faint haziness and shading off in the outline of the hills.

“I don't know if that softness means anything, and hardly believe it does,” he said. “When I made up the wages book last night and saw what the work we have been able to do has cost us, I got a shock. The boys are a pretty good crowd, and if we pay them off we won't get them back; but it's obvious we can't go on long like this.”

Charnock nodded. “How much money have we left?”

When Festing told him he looked thoughtful. “I didn't know things were quite as bad! Well, I suppose I could get another cheque, but don't want to put too much strain on Sadie's generosity. She might imagine I'd got on a jag! There are drawbacks to having a character like mine; it's easier lived up to than got rid of. However, what do you suggest?”

“We'll hold on while the money lasts.”

“The plan's simple, as far as it goes. It's remarkable how short a time money does last and how hard it is to earn. Sadie misled me about that; she used to hint that I had only to apply my talents and pick up the cash; but since she's a business woman, she ought to have known better. The virtuous path is about as rocky as luck can make it; but perhaps you take something for granted if you allow that making money is virtuous.”

Festing frowned impatiently. “One ought to pay one's debts.”

“One's generally forced,” Charnock replied. “But I think I see what you mean. We undertook this contract and must carry it out if possible. Sadie would agree. She's like her father, and the old man often said: 'It's safe to deal with Keller's. When you put up the money, we put up the goods.' But let's get the powder.”

Opening a box, he took out a stick of yellow material that looked rather like a thick candle. A big copper cap was squeezed into one end, and from the cap there trailed a length of black fuse. Festing put the stick into the hole and cautiously filled this up with frozen soil, leaving a short piece of fuse sticking out. While he was feeling for his matches Kerr arrived.

“You are making trouble for me,” the latter began. “You did the square thing in pulling out the weak frames, but they're not replaced, and I can't run the gravel train across the spot. As the back track is nearly ballasted up, I don't know how I'm going to use the locomotive and cars.”

“The frost is stopping us,” said Festing. “It is not our fault.”

“That's so, but my chiefs at headquarters don't want to know whose fault it is. Their method, as you ought to know, is statistical—we're given a number of men and tools, and the value of the work done must equal the expense. It's the only standard for judging an engineer. His business is to overcome the difficulties, and if he's unable he's obviously of no use.”

Charnock grinned. “Employers' logic! Piffle of that kind only goes when there are more engineers than jobs. I imagine there'll be a change some day.”

“I'm sorry Dalton's gone back,” Kerr resumed. “He's a friend of yours, and would have seen what we're all up against. But there's another thing; the boys are beginning to kick. We have had to lay off the ballast gang for a day now and then, and they claim they're not getting a square deal. One fellow told me we oughtn't to have given the contract to a man without capital to carry him over a set-back. He said if you'd had money you could have hired extra labor and kept to schedule, and in the end it wouldn't have cost you more.”

“The argument is sound,” Festing agreed. “In fact, it shows more understanding than I'd expect the boys to use.”

Kerr looked hard at him. “I suspect that somebody is stirring them up. You see, they haven't demanded more wages yet; they only claim that I ought to hustle you.”

“The fellow's object isn't very plain, but I've no doubt the demand for bigger pay will come. Well, we can't hire more help, and if there's no change soon, the frost will break us without your bothering. We'll do our best until then.”

“We'll leave it at that,” said Kerr, with a sympathetic nod; and when he went away Charnock turned to Festing.

“Wilkinson's the man, and as the boys have a real grievance he'll find them easy to work on. That means I've got to write to Sadie.”

“No,” said Festing. “If you write, I stop. Your wife has sent you money enough, and I'm afraid some of it is lost. We must trust to luck, and in the meantime we'll fire the shot.”

He blew a whistle and then striking a match lighted the fuse and hurried away. A minute or two later, lumps of frozen gravel flew about the track and showers of smaller fragments scattered the snow. As Festing came out of his shelter a man with an angry look advanced along the line.

“Why don't you warn folks before you shoot off your rocks?” he asked.

“My partner whistled,” Charnock answered. “What's the matter, anyhow? Did the shot jar your nerves?”

“A rock a foot across mighty near jarred my head! A smaller piece got me plumb on the ribs.”

Festing thought this unlikely, in view of the fellow's distance from the explosion, but could not be certain he was not struck.

“I'm sorry if you got hurt,” he said. “You ought to have heard the whistle.”

“Anyhow, I didn't. You want to stop shooting rocks when there are men around. Then you've mussed up the track and can't put her straight. Why don't you hire more boys and rush the job? Can't see why the bosses let two deadbeats like you and your partner have the contract!”

“We have got it. How we mean to carry it out is our business, not yours.”

“Then it's certainly our business if we work or not,” the other rejoined. “As the bosses will find out if they reckon we're going to lose our time to help you save your dollars!”

He went away grumbling, and Charnock looked at Festing.

“Was that bluff? Do you think he means it?”

“I don't know. They haven't lost much time through our fault, but the frost has interfered with other jobs, and I expect there'll be trouble if it lasts. I'm puzzled, because they're not a bad-tempered lot, and I understand that Wilkinson is not a favorite. Your throwing him down the bank wouldn't strengthen his influence.”

“It's easy to work on men's feelings when they're discontented,” Charnock replied. “The worst is that Kerr can't stand by us if the gang put down their tools. Labor's scarce in the mountains, and he'll be forced to do what they want.”

Festing gloomily agreed. “I'm afraid so. However, we must do the best we can in the time we have left.”

They worked by a blast-lamp until late at night and began again before daybreak in the morning. The weakened frame had been replaced, but others needed strengthening and the rockwork must be built up among the timbers. The stones required careful fitting, and it was impossible to dress them to rough shape. The frozen surface resisted the tool and they broke if much force was used. Fires were made, but the rock thawed irregularly and much time was lost.

Festing's bruised hand gave him trouble, his mittens wore to rags, and his numbed fingers cracked and bled, but he worked savagely until evening. Then he walked stiffly to the shack and sat, dejected and aching, looking at the food on the table. Although he had eaten little all day, it cost him something of an effort to begin his meal.

An hour afterward he heard steps and voices outside and opened the door. The light shone out from behind him and he saw a group of dark figures in the snow.

“Well, boys,” he asked, “what do you want?”

“We want to know when you're going to fix the track,” one replied.

“That's easily answered. We mean to put it right as soon as we can.”

“Not good enough!” remarked another. “We've got to know when.”

“Then I'm sorry I can't tell you. It depends on the weather.”

Some of them growled, and Festing felt Charnock's hand close warningly on his arm.

“Won't you come into the light, boys?” the latter asked. “I'd like to know to whom I'm talking.”

They did not move, and Charnock resumed: “Have you brought your foreman or Wilkinson?”

Somebody said neither had come, and Charnock nodded.

“Well, I reckon they know what's best for them! Wilkinson doesn't like me, but he's not looking for more trouble; I imagine he's had enough. Then the foreman's not a friend of mine, but he has a better job than yours and means to hold it down. If you get up against the bosses, he's not going to be fired.”

There was silence, and he saw his remarks had not been wasted. He had hinted that the men were being used and given them ground to distrust their leaders.

“I half expected another fellow, a friend of Wilkinson's, who claimed he had been hit by a stone. Has he come along?”

“Said he was too sore and would have to lay off to-morrow,” one replied. “That's another thing. When you shoot off your blasts you have got to watch out that nobody gets hurt.”

“Sure,” agreed Charnock. “We did watch out and blew the whistle; but we want to do the square thing. If Pearson got hurt and can't work, let him show you the bruise. We'll stand for his pay until you think he's fit to begin again.”

“That's fair,” admitted the other with a laugh. “He wasn't showing the bruise much. Say, you're pretty smart!”

“I hope so,” said Charnock, modestly. “Looks as if I needed all the smartness I've got. We're up against the weather and a big awkward job, and then you come along and worry us! However, what are you going to do about it if we can't put the rails down as soon as you want?”

“We'll make the bosses break your contract.”

Charnock pondered, keeping his hand on Festing's arm, because he thought he could handle the matter better than his comrade. Festing was too blunt and sometimes got angry. He saw that the men were determined, but while they had, no doubt, been worked upon, he thought they had no personal grudge against him or his partner.

“There's only one way you could put the screw to the bosses, and that way's dangerous. The Colonist states that they have a number of men unemployed in the coast towns. If Kerr wrote to a labor agent, he'd send him up a crowd.”

“It would cost him high to bring the men here, and take some time.”

“That is so,” Charnock agreed. He saw the others had made their plans and calculated the pressure they could put upon the engineers. Time was important, and he thought the foreman had helped them to estimate the expense the company would incur by the delay before they could get new men.

“Putting down your tools would cost you something,” he resumed. “How long do you imagine it would take to persuade Kerr?”

“I guess a week would fix him; he wouldn't stand for a fortnight.”

“Very well! I don't suppose your object is to put us off the road; you want what you're entitled to. So do we all, and though it's often troublesome to get, there's no use in taking the hardest way. If you stop, you lose a fortnight's wages and somebody will get fired. Not now, of course, but afterwards; the bosses know their job. Well, give us ten days, and the time you miss won't run to many dollars. If we can't put the rails down then, we'll quit.”

There was silence for a moment, and then somebody said, “We'll let it go at that. It's a deal!”

The others growled consent and Charnock waited until they moved away, after which he shut the door and sat down wearily.

“You took the right line,” Festing said.

“I hesitated about fixing the time, but we can't go on much longer.”

“No,” said Festing. “Well, we have ten days!”

They said nothing more and soon afterwards went to bed. Next morning there was a marked haziness in the west, but the frost was keener. It looked as if they must be beaten, although they meant to fight until defeat was sure, and Festing was surprised when he glanced at his comrade. This was not the careless lounger he had known. Charnock's face was grim and somewhat pinched; his hands were torn and bruised. He picked the heaviest stones to lift and was the first to take hold of ponderous beams. Festing owned that he had misjudged Charnock, but not more than he had misjudged himself. His farming had been a rash experiment and the contract a reckless gamble; the one threatened to end as badly as the other. Then Bob had somehow kept his wife's love, and he, with senseless obstinacy, had estranged Helen.

His thoughts were depressing, but they drove him on. Hope was dead; he had made a horrible mess of things. All that was left was to take his punishment and hold on until he was knocked out, but he meant to do this. He did not stop for dinner with the rest, but occupied himself with something that needed doing, and forgot that he had gone without the meal. Afterwards a pain began in his left side, but he had other aches, and the extra discomfort did not trouble him much. In the afternoon he worked with a kind of sudden fury, and when at length the tired men dropped their tools found some difficulty in straightening his back. He had never used his muscles as he had done for the past few days, but the strain would soon be over.

It was unusually dark when he went up the hill to the shack. The pines rose in blurred masses from the shadowy snow and he could not see the hollow of the path. Supper was a melancholy meal, but he ate because he was hungry, and afterwards dragged his chair to the fire. There was a great pile of crackling logs and the blaze flickered about the room, but bitter draughts came in beneath the door.

“An open fire's of no use; I thought about getting a stove,” he said, and paused with a dreary smile. “It's lucky I didn't send the order!”

“You may need it yet,” Charnock replied. “Somehow we'll put the rails down in time.”

Festing did not answer and picked up a newspaper. He did not want to read, but could not sleep, although he was very tired, and felt he must have some relief from his anxious thoughts. The newspaper was a Colonist that had left Victoria some days before, and he read it methodically from the first column, trying to fix his attention on things that had happened in remote mining settlements and market reports. His efforts were mechanical, but he long afterwards remembered what he read and how he dully followed the arguments in an article on political reform. Indeed, when he saw the Colonist his imagination carried him back to the log-walled hut, and he felt something of the dazed hopelessness that blunted his senses then.

In the meantime, Charnock, half asleep, lounged with his legs stretched out to the fire. The logs snapped and a fitful wind stirred the tops of the pines. Now and then some snow fell from a branch and a loose roofing shingle rattled, but by degrees the sounds died away. Everything was strangely quiet, except for the roar of the river, which had got more distinct. Charnock shivered and felt a puzzling tension. It was often calm at night, particularly in hard frost, but he felt as if something was going to happen. Looking up, he saw Festing nod with his eyes half shut, and felt for his tobacco.

While he cut the plug, the silence was broken. There was a humming in the pine tops and light branches began to toss. The draught from the door got stronger, but did not bite as keenly, and it sounded as if the snow was falling from the trees. Then some slipped down the roof, and getting up with tingling nerves, he opened the door. All the trees were rustling and waves of sound came up the valley. The sound swelled, the air felt damp, and a drop of moisture from the roof splashed upon his head. He drew a deep breath of relief, for a warm wind from the Pacific was roaring through the defile. Then Festing dropped the newspaper.

“Why have you opened the door?” he asked drowsily, and got up with a jerk as the draught swept the smoke about the room.

“A Chinook!” he exclaimed, and ran to the door. “We'll have rain and warmth while it blows.”

“It's great!” said Charnock hoarsely. “We are through the worst!” Then he caught Festing's arm and laughed. “Say something wise, partner; I want to shout and dance.”

“You had better go to bed. It will be thawing hard to-morrow, and there's much to be done. A Chinook doesn't last long in the mountains.”

“This Chinook is going to last until we put the rails down,” Charnock replied.