‘Be seated.’ The foreman’s reply was a surprise. Henderson had assumed Muir was here on McEwan’s business. Another order perhaps to make the Indians move away from the blasting site.

‘How may I help you, Mr Muir?’ Henderson sat opposite his stocky, grey-haired fellow Scot.

Muir cleared his throat and looked grave. ‘I fear for the men’s morale, Reverend.’

‘The deaths.’

‘No. Well, yes. The deaths. But more than that.’

‘What then?’

‘They are becoming superstitious.’

Muir said this as though he had admitted the men were for the madhouse.

‘Is that so unusual? Especially in a wilderness encampment, cut off from the world by this infernal weather?’

‘The manner of their superstitions is becoming unusual. Yes.’

James Henderson looked at the weatherbeaten man on the other side of the stove. This was not a man who was frightened of anything. Respectful of the elements, yes, but unsettled by the unknown like an Aberdonian fish-wife, no. He was baffled. ‘I am afraid I do not understand, Mr Muir. What precisely is dismaying the men?’

Muir leaned forward slightly, his hands still turning his hat. ‘The Trickster.’

Henderson was now astonished. ‘The Trickster?’

‘The thing the Indians say was locked in the mountain.’

Henderson was annoyed now. ‘How can the men know of the Indians’ fears, Mr Muir? To my knowledge I am the only Siouan speaker on this camp, and the Indians have no English whatsoever.’

‘Mr McEwan told Bailey about it, in preparation to remove the natives from the rock. He told the rest of the men.’

This was unfortunate. Henderson had indeed related the whole ridiculous and primitive myth to McEwan, in order to let him understand these people’s deepest fears and the reasons, in fact, why they were adamant that the blasting be cancelled. He had not expected McEwan to be foolhardy enough to repeat the nonsense to a gang of simple, uneducated men. Muir’s face was testimony that it had been an error.

‘And do they believe this nonsense?’

‘They would deny it, Reverend, but I know it is colouring their behaviour.’

‘What do you wish me to do about it, Mr Muir?’

‘You need to settle their minds at the funeral, Reverend. Could you find a way in your sermon of reminding them that the Christian man has no room in his heart for such heathen beliefs?’

‘It is affecting their work, I trust.’

He hadn’t meant the comment to be barbed, but Muir took it that way.

‘I would ask you even if it were not, Reverend. I care about their souls as well as their labours.’