“That’s right,” agreed the other man. “The thing can’t be done.”
Prescott fell in with his opinion. It would, he thought, require a number of expert mountaineers to trace the men he sought through the desolation of rock and forest to the south. Besides, British Columbia was well populated along the Canadian Pacific line, from which many avenues of communication opened up, and there would be a strong probability of his missing Kermode.
“Well,” he said reluctantly, “perhaps, I had better stop round here in case they keep this track; and my foot’s too sore to let me move. Could you put me up for a week or two? I’ll try to make it worth your while.”
“Stop as long as you want,” Steve responded. “We’ll have to charge you for the grub, because we paid quite a pile for it, but we’ll only strike you for your share.”
“Thank you,” said Prescott, and the others began to talk of Hollin.
“If that man would let up on prospecting he’d get rich,” declared one. “When a survey outfit goes up into the bush, Hollin’s picked for the boss packer’s job, and when there’s a new wagon road to be staked out they generally put him on. A smart man at striking the easiest line through rough country.”
“That’s so,” agreed Steve. “Trouble is that he can’t stay with it. Soon as he collects some pay, he goes off on the prospecting trail, and then heads for Vancouver with a bag of specimens that aren’t worth anything. When the mineral men hear of a new Hollin discovery they smile. Guess he’s found most everything—gold, copper, zinc, and platinum—and never made fifty cents out of them, ’cept once when, so the boys say, a mining company fellow gave him five dollars to promise he wouldn’t worry him again. Now they’ve orders in all the offices that if Hollin comes round with any more specimens they’re not to let him in.”
Prescott laughed. The man he had heard described was Kermode’s companion, and he could imagine their wandering up and down the province, one as irresponsible as the other; meeting with strange experiences, stubbornly braving the perils of the wilds; making themselves a nuisance to business men in the cities. The matter had, however, a more serious aspect. Prescott had spent some time on the useless search and he could not continue it throughout the winter. It would be futile to speculate on the movements of men so erratic as those he had followed. He could not neglect his farm, and he had a heavy crop to haul in and sell: this was a duty that must be attended to.
If he went back without Jernyngham, and Curtis still clung to his theory, the police might give him trouble; but he must run that risk. Though convinced of it, he had no means of proving that Jernyngham was wandering through British Columbia in company with a crazy prospector.
After a while he grew drowsy and got into the bunk, where he lay down, enjoying the warmth and softness of the spruce twigs until he went to sleep.