om the valley."

"No; the farmer's eyes are fixed on the furrow; he must follow the plow.
His crop and his stock are nearer him; he cannot see past them. The
wanderer's mind is free."

"When you had that glimpse of glory, you turned away and looked for
household smoke."

"There you have me," he laughed. "Inconsistent, wasn't it? But we're only
human: one needs rest and food."

Helen changed the subject.

"Well," she declared, "I'm grateful; and if it's any comfort, you won't
be forgotten."

He stopped the restive horses.

"That's good to hear," he told her. "But the ground is rough ahead and
you have come some way."

"Good-by," she said, and gave him her hand.

He held it for a moment, and then, getting into the saddle, turned and
swung off his hat. After that he rode on into the waste, leading one
horse; and Helen Foster watched him for a while before she went back,
slowly and thoughtfully, to the ranch.

CHAPTER XVI

THE MISSIONARY'S ALLY

On reaching the railroad camp, Kermode was engaged by the contractor to
haul in logs cut in a neighboring forest for constructional purposes. The
line ran into a wild valley, clinging to the rocks that formed one side
of it, with a torrent brawling hoarsely among the stones beneath. Above
rose vast slopes, streaked in some places with small firs, in others
ground to a smooth scarp by sliding snow. Farther back were glaciers and
a chain of glittering peaks.

The mouth of the valley had been laid out as the site of a future town,
but so far it was occupied by rows of tents and rude wooden shacks,
inhabited by the construction gangs. A large proportion of them were
orderly, well-conducted men: industrious immigrants who had seized the
first opportunity for getting work, small farmers attracted by high
wages, skilled artisans. There were, however, some of a rougher type; and
the undesirable element, was, as usual, well represented. On the whole,
the camp was sober, largely because no licenses had been issued, though
this did not prevent men who came up from other points from bringing
liquor in, and the authorities suspected another source of supply.

Kermode had little trouble with his work, which he found profitable, and
he rapidly made friends. Among them was a young Presbyterian missionary
whom he met for the first time on the hillside, engaged on a squared log
with a big jack-plane. He wore knee-boots and a threadbare suit of gray,
while his hat had suffer