A half-moon shone down upon the rugged wilderness, and he could see the
black pines rush past. The cars lurched and he heard the great
locomotive snort on the inclines. Now and then there was a roar as
they sped across a bridge, and water glimmered among the rocks below;
afterwards the roar sank into a steady clatter and a soothing throb of
wheels. The car was warm, and Foster, who had given the porter his
overcoat, was lighting another cigarette when a man came in and sat
down opposite. He looked hard at Foster, who quietly returned his
gaze. The man was about his own height but some years older, and his
expression was disturbed.

Foster felt interested. He had faced danger in the northern
wilderness, where he had risked starvation and traveled on frozen
rivers when the ice was breaking up. Besides, he had once or twice
been involved in savage fights about disputed mining claims, and knew
how men looked when they bore a heavy strain. He thought the stranger
was afraid but was not a coward.

"You're going to Ottawa, aren't you? I heard you talking to your
friend," said the man.

"I'm going to Montreal, but don't see what that has to do with you."

The other made a sign of impatience. "Well, I dare say you can be
trusted, and I've got to take a risk."

"It is a risk to trust a man you don't know," Foster rejoined. "But
how can I help?"

"I want you to put on my coat and cap, and stay here, reading the