CHAPTER XIV
ON THE TRAIL
When Prescott got up the next morning, dawn was breaking across the muskeg. There was frost in the air, the freight-cars on the side-track and the roofs of the shacks were white, and a nipping breeze swept through the camp. It was already filled with sounds of activity—hoarse voices, heavy footsteps, the tolling of a locomotive bell, and the rattle of wheels—and Prescott’s new friends were eating in a neighboring shed. Going in, he was supplied with breakfast, and when he left the table the Englishman joined him.
“Have you made up your mind whether you want a job or not?” he asked.
Prescott said he thought he would push on, and the man looked at him deprecatingly.
“Well,” he said, “we don’t want to appear inhospitable, but as things are run here, you’re the guest of the boss, and since he didn’t give the invitation, there might be trouble if he noticed you.”
“As it happens, I want to get hold of Kermode as soon as I can,” Prescott answered.
“You shouldn’t have much difficulty in finding him. It’s hardly possible for a man of his gifts to go through the country without leaving a plain trail behind.”