The whole thing was of course preposterous, the product of fear and lack of education. Men of science were putting a lid of reason on all such fancy. His own beloved Edinburgh University was even now full of men of letters who could laugh at the notion of demons and provide evidence backing the misinterpretation of perfectly natural occurrences. The love of God in these modern times did not require a belief in scaly demons from Hades. He and his fellow theologians in Edinburgh enjoyed many a discussion on the topic, usually over a fine port and good cigar. However Edinburgh University, with its gaggle of whiskered, rational men and its comforting neo-classical granite domes, had seemed distant and dream-like as he had sat there that night with Chief Hunting Wolf.

He should, of course have kept the whole thing to himself, but he needed to explain to McEwan why he sympathized with the Indians. He had tried to impress upon the engineer that their beliefs were as deeply held as his, that they believed the Trickster was as real as the engineer believed Christ is our saviour.

Muir was sitting still, waiting for an answer.

‘I know you care, Mr Muir. I am sorry if I seemed to suggest otherwise. My only fear is that by mentioning this fanciful notion it will further inflame the men’s imaginations.’

Muir nodded. ‘My thoughts initially, Reverend, but let me enlighten you as to how far this has progressed.’

Henderson was not sure he wished to hear.

‘They are saying they will not enter the hole in the rock to set new charges without you being present.’

‘This is not completely eccentric. I believe the gang which built the two-hundred-mile stretch of rail east of here would not set any charge unless first blessed by a priest.’

‘I am not done. They also want the Kinchuinick shaman.’

Henderson took a deep breath and sighed. Muir was right to be concerned. He had watched horrified on many occasions as the men had laughed and made ribald jokes at the expense of the solemn and ever-present Kinchuinicks. A Kinchuinick shaman would have been treated with as much respect and belief as a hopeless jester by those men. Obviously these were changed days. Henderson stood.

‘I see. I will think carefully about the sermon, Mr Muir. Thank you for bringing it to my attention.’

Muir stood to go, putting his hat on as he pushed back the stool. ‘Thank you.’

He made to leave. Henderson spoke. ‘Mr Muir. May I ask you something?’

‘Certainly.’

‘Do you share the men’s fears?’

Muir reddened slightly. ‘As I said, Reverend. There is no place in the Christian man’s heart for such beliefs. Good day.’

He opened the door, stepped into the snow and was gone. So Muir was as frightened as his men. James Henderson sat down again and began to prepare a sermon.