bed and kissed, again and again, with tender, reverent kisses, the
pillow where his head had lain.

BOOK THREE

CHAPTER I

THE CAMP BY THE GAP

On the foot-hills' side of The Gap, on a grassy plain bounded on three
sides by the Bow River and on the other by ragged hills and broken
timber, stood Surveyor McIvor's camp, three white tents, seeming
wondrously insignificant in the shadow of the mighty Rockies, but cosy
enough. For on this April day the sun was riding high in the heavens in
all his new spring glory, where a few days ago and for many months past
the storm king with relentless rigour had raged, searching with pitiless
fury these rock-ribbed hills and threatening these white tents and their
dwellers with dire destruction. But threaten though he might and pin
them though he did beneath their frail canvas covers, he could not make
that gang beat retreat. McIvor was of the kind that takes no back trail.
In the late fall he had set out to run the line through The Gap, and
after many wanderings through the coulees of the foothills and after
many vain attempts, he had finally made choice of his route and had
brought his men, burnt black with chinook and frost and sun, hither to
The Gap's mouth. Every chain length in those weary marches was a battle
ground, every pillar, every picket stood a monument of victory. McIvor's
advance through the foot-hill country to The Gap had been one unbroken
succession of fierce fights with Nature's most terrifying forces, a
triumphal march of heroes who bore on their faces and on their bodies
the scars and laurels of the campaign. But to McIvor and his gang it was
all in the day's work.

To Cameron the winter had brought an experience of a life hitherto
undreamed of, but never even in its wildest blizzards did he cherish
anything but gratitude to his friend Martin, who had got him attached to
McIvor's survey party. For McIvor was a man to "tie to," as Martin said,
and to Cameron he was a continual cause of wonder and admiration. He was
a big man, with a big man's quiet strength, patient, fearless of men
and things, reverent toward Nature's forces, which it was his life's
business to know, to measure, to control, and, if need be, to fight,
careful of his men, whether amid the perils of the march, or amid
the more deadly perils of trading post and railway construction camp.
Cameron never could forget the thrill of admiration that swept his soul
one night in Taylor's bil