ghbourhood in vain. On going back into his own room, Anderson noticed
an open drawer. He had placed his pocketbook there the night before, but
without locking the drawer. It was gone, and in its place was a dirty
scrap of paper.

"Don't you try chivvying me, George, for you won't get any good of it.
You let me alone, and I'll let you. You were a stingy fellow about that
money, so I've took some of it. Good-bye."

Sick at heart, Anderson resumed the search, further afield. He sent
Ginnell along the line to make confidential inquiries. He telegraphed to
persons known to him at Golden, Revelstoke, Kamloops, Ashcroft, all to
no purpose. Twenty-four--thirty-six hours passed and nothing had been
heard of the fugitive.

He felt himself baffled and tricked, with certain deep instincts and
yearnings wounded to the death. The brutal manner of his father's
escape--the robbery--the letter--had struck him hard.

When Friday night came, and still no news, Anderson found himself at the
C.P.R. Hotel at Field. He was stupid with fatigue and depression. But
he had been in telephonic communication all the afternoon with Delaine
and Lady Merton at Lake Louise, as to their departure for the Pacific.
They knew nothing and should know nothing of his own catastrophe; their
plans should not suffer.

He went out into the summer night to take breath, and commune with
himself. The night was balmy; the stars glorious. On a siding near the
hotel stood the private car which had arrived that evening from
Vancouver, and was to go to Laggan the following morning to fetch the
English party. They were to pick him up, on the return, at Field.

He had failed to save his father, and his honest effort had been made in
vain. Humiliation and disappointment overshadowed him. Passionately, his
whole soul turned to Elizabeth. He did not yet grasp all the bearings of
what had happened. But he began to count the hours to the time when he
should see her.

CHAPTER XI

A day of showers and breaking clouds--of sudden sunlight, and broad
clefts of blue; a day when shreds of mist are lightly looped and meshed
about the higher peaks of the Rockies and the Selkirks, dividing the
forest world from the ice world above....

The car was slowly descending the Kicking Horse Pass, at the rear of a
heavy train. Elizabeth, on her platform, was feasting her eyes once more
on the great savage landscape, on these peaks and valleys that have
never till now known man, save