The information thus obtained Rosenblatt was careful to impart to his friend and partner, Samuel Sprink.  As a result of further interviews with the priest and of much shrewd bargaining with railroad contractors and officials, in early spring, before the break up of the roads, Mr. Samuel Sprink had established himself along the line of construction as a vendor of “gents’ furnishings,” working men’s supplies, tobaccos and cigars, and other useful and domestic articles.  It was not announced, however, in the alluring posters distributed among the people in language suited to their comprehension, that among his stores might be found a brand of whiskey of whose virtues none could speak with more confidence than Mr. Sprink himself, for the sufficient reason that he was for the most part the sole manufacturer thereof.

Chief among Mr. Sprink’s activities was that of “claim jumping,”—­to wit, the securing for himself of homesteads for which patents had not been obtained, the homesteaders for one reason or another having not been able to complete the duties required by Government.  In the prosecution of this business Mr. Sprink made a discovery, which he conveyed in a letter to Mr. Rosenblatt, who was still in charge of the Winnipeg end of the Company’s business.

“You must come at once,” wrote Mr. Sprink.  “I have a great business on hand.  I have discovered that no application has been made for the coal mine claimed by young Kalmar, and this means that the mine is still open.  Had I the full description of the property, I should have jumped the claim at once, you bet.  So get a move on and come.  Get the description of the land on the quiet, and then do some work among the Galician people to prepare for the change of ownership, because there will be trouble, sure.  So, come along.  There is other big business too, so you must come.”

Rosenblatt needed no further urging.  In a week he was on the ground.

Meanwhile, Kalman was developing his mine, and dreaming great dreams as to what he should do when he had become a great mine owner.  It was his custom, ever since Irma’s coming, to spend the Sunday evening with her at the hospital.  His way to the mine lay through scrub and sleugh, a heavy trail, and so he welcomed the breaking up of the ice on the Eagle River.  For, taking Brown’s canoe, he could paddle down to the Saskatchewan, and thence to the mouth of the Night Hawk Creek, from which point it was only a short walk to camp.

It was a most fortunate thing for old Pere Garneau that Kalman had adopted this method of transportation on the very night the old priest had chosen for his trip down the Eagle.  Pere Garneau, a pioneer priest of the North Saskatchewan country, had ministered for twenty years, by river and by trail, to the spiritual and temporal needs of the half-breeds and the Indians under the care of his church.  A heroic soul was the old Father, not to be daunted by dangers, simple as a child, and kindly.  But the years had done