Tossing snowflakes filled the air, and although it was three o'clock in the afternoon the light was fading, when Charnock opened the door of the caboose. A bitter wind rushed past him and eddied about the car, making the stove crackle. The iron was red-hot in places and a fierce twinkle shone out beneath the rattling door. Half-seen men lay in the bunks along the shadowy wall, tools jingled upon the throbbing boards, but the motion was gentler than usual and the wheels churned softly instead of hammering.

“Is she going to make it?” somebody asked.

Charnock leaned out of the door. Black smoke streamed about the cars and he heard a heavy snorting some distance off, but the caboose lurched slowly along the uneven track. The construction train was climbing a steep grade, the driving wheels slipped and he doubted if the locomotive could reach the summit, from which the line ran down to the camp. Dim pines, hardly distinguishable from the white hillside, drifted past; a shapeless rack loomed up and slowly drew abreast. It was some moments before Charnock lost it in the tossing white haze.

“I don't know if she'll make it or not, but rather think she won't,” he said.

“Then come in and shut the blamed door,” another growled. “No need to worry about it, anyhow! Pay's as good for stopping in the caboose as for humping rails in the snow.”

“You're luckier than me in that way,” Charnock answered as he shut the door. “There are some drawbacks to being your own boss. When you can't get to work it's comforting to know that somebody else has to find the dollars and put up the hash.”

He shivered as he sat down on a box. The snow was obviously deep and things would be unpleasant at the camp, but Festing would not let this interfere with work. Charnock thought he had been foolish to come back, but Festing expected him and Sadie agreed that he ought to go. It was something of an effort to live up to the standards of such a partner and such a wife. Sadie was a very good sort, better than he deserved, but he would not have minded it if she were not quite so anxious about his moral welfare. Besides, after the comfort of the homestead, the caboose jarred. It smelt of acrid soft-coal smoke, the air was full of dust, and rubbish jolted about the floor. Then Charnock grinned as he admitted that he had not expected to find the path of virtue smooth.

His reflections were rudely disturbed, for a violent jolt threw him off the box. The boards he fell upon no longer throbbed, and it was evident that the train had stopped. The others laughed as he got up.

“Loco's hit a big drift,” said one. “I guess the engineer won't butt her through.”

“He'll surely try; Jake hates to be beat,” another remarked, and the caboose began to shake as the train ran backwards down the line.

A minute or two later there was a savage jerk and a furious snorting. The caboose rolled ahead again, faster than before, for the wheels had cut a channel through the snow, and somebody said, “Watch out! Hold tight when she jumps!”

The speed slackened, a jarring crash ran backwards along the train, and the caboose tilted as if the wheels had left the rails. Tools and sacks of provisions rolled across the inclined floor, which suddenly sank to a level, and a man who had fallen from his bunk got up and opened the door.

“She's bedded in good and fast. Guess Jake will be satisfied now,” he said, and laughed when a whistle rang through the snow. “Nobody could hear that a mile ahead, and as she's not over the divide it's some way to camp. I reckon we'll stop here until they dig us out.”

Soon afterwards some more men came in, covered with snow. Then the door was shut, the stove filled and a lamp lighted, and Charnock resigned himself to spending another night in the caboose. After all, it was as warm as the shack, and he reflected with some amusement that Festing probably did not expect him to be punctual. The latter knew his habits, and no doubt imagined that he would find the comfort of the homestead seductive. But Festing did not know Sadie, who had sent him back within the promised time. He enjoyed his supper and slept well afterwards. In fact, he did not waken until a stinging draught swept through the caboose and he saw that it was daylight. The door was open and he heard voices outside. He recognized one as the foreman's, and presently the fellow came in.

“D'you reckon you're here for good, you blamed hibernating deadbeats?” he asked the occupants of the bunks. “Turn out and get busy before I put a move on you!”

The men got up, grumbling, and Charnock buttoned his skin-coat and jumped down into the snow. He sank to his knees, but went deeper before he reached the engine, round which a gang of men were at work with shovels. It was not his business to help them and he floundered on up the track they had made until he crossed the summit and saw the bridge in the distance. Half an hour afterwards he met Festing and thought he looked surprised.

“You didn't come with the boys to dig us out,” Charnock remarked.

“No,” said Festing. “We knew the train had passed the Butte, and guessed where she was held up. But I hardly thought—”

“You didn't think I'd be up to time?” Charnock suggested. “Well, it's remarkable what a good example does!”

“Did you see Helen?”

“Sadie saw her. I understand she was very well and sent you a message. You're to finish your job and make good—Helen understands.”

Festing was silent a moment, and when he looked up his eyes were soft. “Thank you, Bob! Or perhaps it's Sadie I ought to thank?”

“I wouldn't bother about it. Sadie's fond of meddling,” Charnock answered with some embarrassment. “But will the snow stop the work?”

“Not altogether. We can keep busy on the hill and I'm going up now. Will you come?”

“Presently,” said Charnock, smiling. “Food's a thing you don't seem to need when you're occupied, but I want my breakfast before I start.”

Festing went away, and after a time Charnock joined him on the hill, where fresh trees had been felled and roughly squared with the ax. Men and horses were working hard, but Charnock stopped for a minute or two before he began. The snow was different from the thin covering that scarcely hid the short grass on the plains. The pines were glittering white pyramids, with branches that bent beneath their load, and there were no inequalities on the drop to the river. Every projection was leveled up, the hollows were filled, and the snow ran unbroken among the trunks in a smooth white sheet. It was not drying and getting powdery, because the frost was not very keen, and he imagined that Festing meant to get as much lumber as possible down while the surface could be beaten into a smooth track.

“You might take Gordon's team and break a trail by hauling the lighter pieces to the top,” Festing said. “They'll run down when they have worn a chute, but we'll have some trouble man-handling the first.”

Charnock nodded as he glanced over the edge of the narrow tableland. The descent was not steep near the top, but farther on it dropped precipitously to the water, crossing the curve by the bridge.

“How will you stop the heavy stuff going into the river?” he asked.

Festing indicated two men moving about the waterside. They looked curiously stumpy with their legs buried in the snow.

“I sent them to make a chain fast to the rocks. We'll shackle up the first logs we run down and make a lumber pond. A few may shoot across the top, but we'll see what must be done as we get on.”

Charnock hooked the chain round the smallest log he could find and started the horses. They slipped and floundered as they plodded through the soft snow. Sometimes the log ran for a few yards, crushing down the surface, but it often sank overhead and the team struggled hard to drag it out. For all that, Charnock reached the top of the slope, and turning back, widened the trail he had made. The next log ran easier, although it gave him trouble, but when he stopped at noon he had beaten down a road.

When they started again he left the team to somebody else and joined the men who were clearing out a trough down the hill. This was harder work, but the small contractor finds it pays to give his men a lead instead of orders, and for a time Charnock used the shovel and his feet. Then Festing said they had better move a few logs as far as they would go, and they worked the first trunk down hill with handspikes and tackles. The lumber scored the bottom of the trough and would not run, and they struggled through the banked-up snow, lifting the heavy mass when it sank. Now and then they fixed the tackle to a tree and dragged the log across short skids thrust under its end, and at length launched it from the brow of the steeper pitch.

It plunged down some distance, but stopped again, half buried in loose snow, and they scrambled after it, clinging to small trees. Then the work got dangerous. One could scarcely stand on the steep bank, and when the log started it rather leaped than slid. Spikes, torn from the men's hands, shot into the air, and those in front sprang back for their lives, but the mass seldom went far before loose snow brought it up and the struggle with the levers began again. At last, it slipped from a hummock and glided slowly down, crumpling the snow in front, while a man, clinging to the butt and shouting hoarse jokes, trailed down the track behind.

Moving the next was easier, and those that followed ran without much help for most of the way, while when dark came the bank at the top was empty and there was a pile of logs held up by the chain at the waterside. Their descent had worn the channel smooth, and it was now difficult to stop them going too far. In a day or two Festing brought the most part of his material to the spot where it would be used, and got ready to put up the frames.

Stinging frost set in, and on the morning they cleared the ground for the first post Charnock felt daunted as he beat his numbed hands. The sky was clear; a hard, dazzling blue, against which the white peaks were silhouetted with every ridge and pinnacle in sharp outline. They twinkled like steel in places, but there were patches of delicate gray, and here and there a dark rock broke through its covering. The bottom of the gorge was soft blue, and the river a streak of raw indigo, but there was no touch of warm color in the savage landscape. The glitter made Charnock's eyes ache and the reflected sunshine burned his skin.

Some of the construction gangs were laid off, but in places men were at work. They looked small and feeble on the vast white slope, and a few plumes of smoke seemed to curl futilely out of the hollow. Frost and snow defied man's engine power, and the rattle of the machines was lost in the din the river made. Its channel was full of snow that had frozen in the honey-combed masses, and the ragged floes broke with a harsh, ringing crash. Others screamed as they smashed among the rocks and ground across ledges, while the tall cliffs on the opposite bank flung the echoes far among the pines. The uproar rose and sank, but its throbbing note voiced a challenge to human effort, and Charnock admitted that had the choice been left to him, he would have gone back to the warm shack and waited for better conditions.

Festing, however, would wait for nothing, and Kerr and Norton were equally resolute. Just now Festing was clearing away the snow while three or four men cautiously descended the bank, dragging loads of branches. A big fire was soon lighted, and when the resinous wood broke into snapping flame Festing cleared a spot farther on for another. By and by he scattered the first, the thawed surface was pierced, and a hole dug. Then with half an hour's savage labor they got the first big post on end. The next broke the supporting tackle and a man narrowly escaped when it fell, but they raised it again and got to work upon the braces. The wood was unseasoned and hard with frozen sap. Saw and auger would scarcely bite, but somehow they cut the notches and bored the holes. When the first frame was roughly stayed Charnock sat down with a breathless laugh.

“I suppose it's the best job we can make and it's up to specification. Still, when one comes to think of it, the optimism of these railroad men is remarkable. Green wood and uncovered bolts that will soon work loose in the rotting pine! If I was an engineer, the thing would frighten me.”

“The track will stand while they want it,” Festing answered with an impatient look. “Long before it gets shaky they'll pull it down.”

“Pulling things down is a national habit. A man I met in Winnipeg bought a nearly new hotel because he thought he could put up a better building on the site. However, I suppose there's something to be said for his point of view. Progress implies continuous moving on!”

“It does,” said Festing. “While you moralize, the men you ought to put to work are standing still.”

Charnock got up and went off, beating his hands. He noted that there was a hole in the mittens he had brought from home. This was annoying because Sadie had given him the mittens. In spite of many difficulties, they braced the posts securely before they stopped work, and when supper was over Charnock reluctantly put on his coat. He wanted to ask Norton something, and when he left the latter's office came back along a narrow path above the track. After going a short distance he stopped to look down at the half-finished frames.

The moon had not risen, but a pale glow shone above a gray peak and the sky was clear. One could not see much in the hollow, but the snow reflected a faint light. The timbers they had erected rose like a black skeleton, and after glancing at them, Charnock's eyes were drawn towards the pile of logs in the pond at the water's edge. A log pond is generally made in a river, where the stream will carry the trunks into the containing chains. But Festing had made his on land, using the snow instead of the current. Charnock could not tell what had attracted his attention, but stood motionless for a moment or two.

He heard nothing but the roar of the current and the crash of splintering ice, and could hardly distinguish the logs. Their outline was blurred and the dark-colored mass melted into a dusky background of rock and water. Yet he thought something had moved beside the pond.

Then an indistinct object detached itself from the pile. It was shapeless and he lost it next moment, but it had been visible against a patch of snow. It was not a man's height, and, so far as he could see, moved like an animal, but no wild beast would haunt the outskirts of a noisy construction camp. Since he could not imagine why a man should crawl about the logs at night, he resolved to satisfy his curiosity.

This needed caution, and he lay down and rolled himself in the snow. It stuck to his shaggy skin-coat, and remembering that some drills had been left near the track he felt about until he found one. The short steel bar was easy to carry and might be useful. The next thing was to get down without being seen, and he crept to the log-slide and sitting down let himself go. His coat rolled up and acted like a brake, but he reached and shot over the top of the last pitch. Next moment he struck the logs at the bottom with a jar that left him breathless, and he lay still to recover. His coat was white; indeed, the snow had forced its way inside his clothes, but he must be careful about his background and avoid abrupt movements.

Getting on his hands and knees, he crawled along the bottom of the pile. The logs were not numerous, since some had been used, and when Charnock reached the end he crouched in the snow and looked about. Nobody was there and his ears were not of much use because the crash of ice drowned every other sound. This made silence needless, and he tried to get between the logs and the water, but found it dangerous. The chain had sagged with the strain, and the lowest tier was scarcely a foot from the bank, along which the ice-floes rasped.

He came back and crawled half-way up the pile, meaning to reach the top, but stopped and lay flat. An object moved along the highest row, and he knew it was a man. The fellow's figure showed against the sky, though Charnock imagined he would have been invisible from above. He waited and felt his heart beat as he clenched the bar. The other did not seem to know he was watched and Charnock resolved to find out what he meant to do. He thought of the chain that held the logs; if this were loosed, the pile would roll into the river and be washed away, but it would be impossible to slip the fastening toggle while the links were strained. Still one might be nicked with a hacksaw and left to break with the shock when the next log ran down the slide. The man, however, could not get at the chain from the top row.

He came nearer and then stopped abruptly, as if alarmed. Charnock lay close in the hollow between two logs, but his coat was snowy and it was possible that the other had noticed the white patch. He turned and began to move back, not fast but with caution. Charnock felt it was unthinkable that he should get away, and raising himself, swung the drill round his head and let it go. It flew over the other man and vanished without a sound because the turmoil of the water drowned the splash, but Charnock lost his balance and rolled off the logs. He fell into the snow, and when he got up the man had gone.

For a few moments he stood still, hesitating and abusing his folly. He did not know if the fellow had seen the drill fly past or not, but he had thrown away his weapon, and might have a dangerous antagonist. For all that, he meant to discover who his antagonist was. Floundering through the snow, he reached the end of the pile, but found nobody there. The lumber gang had made a path along the water's edge, but Charnock could see nobody among the scattered trees. He climbed to the top of the logs and looked down on the other side, but saw nothing between the water and the pile.

After this, he felt the fastening of the chain, which did not seem to have been tampered with, because the toggle was securely fixed across the strap-link. Then he crept about the pile again, with an uncomfortable feeling that the other might be lying in wait for him, but saw nothing suspicious, and there was no use in examining the trampled snow. By and by he gave up the search and returned to the path, feeling disturbed. It was impossible to guess what the man had meant to do, or who he was, but Charnock resolved to watch.