The next station was probably only marked by an agent’s office and a water-tank.  Besides, his antagonists might get down there and come back to look for him, in which case he would be at their mercy if they met.  It was a long way to the station they had passed, but he thought the safest plan would be to make for it.  This meant a walk of some hours, with nothing to eat on the way, but a train from Winnipeg would stop early in the morning, and the others would not expect him to resume his journey east.  If they had found out their mistake, they would take it for granted that he was a confederate of the man they followed and most likely calculate on his trying to reach the new Canadian Northern line.  Foster felt angry with the fellow who had lured him into the adventure and resolved to extricate himself from it as soon as possible.

Getting up, he started west along the track, and after a time found himself embarrassed by the fur coat.  It was heavy and too warm, but he would need it when he stopped.  Then he wore thin city boots, and the track, as usual, was roughly ballasted with coarse gravel.  The stones rolled about under his feet, and the ties were irregularly spaced, so that he could not step from one to another except by an awkward stride.  He went on, however, and by and by began to wonder where he could get a drink, for the struggle or the shock had made him thirsty.

The big coat proved troublesome to carry when he took it off.  After a time his feet got sore and he tried to walk in the shallow drain beside the line, but this was filled with ice, on which he slipped.  He had traveled by rougher trails and carried heavy loads, but that was some years ago and he wore different boots and fastened on his pack by proper straps.  Moreover, one got soft when leading a business life.

By and by he heard the roar of water and pushing on faster came to a foaming creek that plunged down a stony ravine.  A bridge crossed the gorge, and leaving the track he clambered down the rocky bank.  Where the spray had fallen there were patches of ice, but Foster felt that he must get a drink.  When he was half-way down his foot slipped and he slid the rest of the distance, bringing up with a shock at the edge of the water, where he struck a projecting stone.  He felt shaken, but got a drink, and when he began to climb back found that he had wrenched his knee.  Some movements were not painful, but when his weight came upon the joint it hurt.  He must get up, for all that, and reached the top, where he sat down with his lips firmly set, and after putting on the coat felt in the pocket for a cigarette.

The case he took out was not his, and he remembered that he was wearing another man’s coat.  The cigarettes were of Turkish tobacco, which is not much used in Canada, and he thought the quality remarkably good.  This seemed to imply that their owner had a cultivated taste, and Foster began to wonder whether he was after all not a business man running away from his creditors, but rejected the theory.  It was strange that although the cigarettes were expensive the case was of the kind sold in Western stores for fifty cents, but Foster presently gave up speculating about the man.