“It was somewhere here that Raven fell in with you?”
“No, some ten miles off the line, down the old Kootenay trail.”
“Aha!” said the Inspector. “It might not be a bad idea to beat up that same old trail. It is quite possible that we might fall in with your old friends.”
“It would certainly be a great pleasure,” replied Cameron, “to conduct Mr. Raven and his Indian friend over this same trail as they did me some nine months ago.”
“We will take a chance on it,” said the Inspector. “We lose time going back the other way.”
Upon the site of McIvor's survey camp they found camped a large construction gang. Between the lines of tents, for the camp was ordered in streets like a city, they rode till they came to the headquarters of the Police, and enquired for the Superintendent. The Superintendent had gone up the line, the Sergeant informed them, following the larger construction gangs. The Sergeant and two men had some fifty miles of line under patrol, with some ten camps of various kinds on the line and in the woods, and in addition they had the care of that double stream of humanity flowing in and flowing out without ceasing day or night.
As the Inspector stepped inside the Police tent Cameron's attention was arrested by the sign “Hospital” upon a large double-roofed tent set on a wooden floor and guyed with more than ordinary care.
“Wonder if old Martin is anywhere about,” he said to himself as he rode across to the open door.
“Is Dr. Martin in?” he enquired of a Chinaman, who appeared from a tent at the rear.
“Doc Matin go 'way 'long tlain.”