l 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 reassuring 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 PASSAGE 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 pass
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