Lady Merton, Colonist | Page 6

did not seem to her that he had been
making much use of them.
"Whatever is the matter, Yerkes? What is a sink-hole?"
Yerkes looked round.
"A sink-hole, my lady?" he said slowly--"A sink-hole, well, it's as you
may say--a muskeg."
"A _what?_"
"A place where you can't find no bottom, my lady. This one's a vixen,
she is! What she's cost the C.P.R.!"--he threw up his hands. "And
there's no contenting her--the more you give her the more she wants.
They give her ten trainloads of stuff a couple of months ago. No good!
A bit of moist weather and there she is at it again. Let an engine and
two carriages through last night--ten o'clock!"
"Gracious! Was anybody hurt? What--a kind of bog?--a quicksand?"
"Well," said Yerkes, resuming his dusting, and speaking with polite
obstinacy, "muskegs is what they call 'em in these parts. They'll have to
divert the line. I tell 'em so, scores of times. She was at this game last
year. Held me up twenty-one hours last fall."
When Yerkes was travelling he spoke in a representative capacity. He
was the line.

"How many trains ahead of us are there? Yerkes?"
"Two as I know on--may be more."
"And behind?"
"Three or four, my lady."
"And how long are we likely to be kept?"
"Can't say. They've been at her ten hours. She don't generally let
anyone over her under a good twenty--or twenty-four."
"Yerkes!--what will Mr. Gaddesden say? And it's so damp and horrid."
Elizabeth looked at the outside prospect in dismay. The rain was
drizzling down. The passengers walking up and down the line were in
heavy overcoats with their collars turned up. To the left of the line there
was a misty glimpse of water over a foreground of charred stumps. On
the other side rose a bank of scrubby wood, broken by a patch of
clearing, which held a rude log-cabin. What was she to do with Philip
all day?
Suddenly a cow appeared on the patch of grass round the log hut. With
a sound of jubilation, Yerkes threw down his dusting brush and rushed
out of the car. Elizabeth watched him pursue the cow, and disappear
round a corner. What on earth was he about?
Philip had apparently not yet been called. He was asleep, and Yerkes
had let well alone. But he must soon awake to the situation, and the
problem of his entertainment would begin. Elizabeth took up the
guide-book and with difficulty made out that they were about a
hundred miles from Winnipeg. Somewhere near Rainy Lake apparently.
What a foolishly appropriate name!
"Hi!--hi!--"
The shout startled her. Looking out she saw a group of passengers
grinning, and Yerkes running hard for the car, holding something in his

hand, and pursued by a man in a slouch hat, who seemed to be
swearing. Yerkes dashed into the car, deposited his booty in the kitchen,
and standing in the doorway faced the enemy. A terrific babel arose.
Elizabeth appeared in the passage and demanded to know what had
happened.
"All right, my lady," said Yerkes, mopping his forehead. "I've only
been and milked his cow. No saying where I'd have got any milk this
side of Winnipeg if I hadn't."
"But, Yerkes, he doesn't seem to like it."
"Oh, that's all right, my lady."
But the settler was now on the steps of the car gesticulating and
scolding, in what Elizabeth guessed to be a Scandinavian tongue. He
was indeed a gigantic Swede, furiously angry, and Elizabeth had
thoughts of bearding him herself and restoring the milk, when some
mysterious transaction involving coin passed suddenly between the two
men. The Swede stopped short in the midst of a sentence, pocketed
something, and made off sulkily for the log hut. Yerkes, with a smile,
and a wink to the bystanders, retired triumphant on his prey.
Elizabeth, standing at the door of the kitchen, inquired if supplies were
likely to run short.
"Not in this car," said Yerkes, with emphasis. "What _they'll_ do"--a
jerk of his thumb towards the rest of the train in front--"can't say."
"Of course we shall have to give them food!" cried Lady Merton,
delighted at the thought of getting rid of some of their superfluities.
Yerkes showed a stolid face.
"The C.P.R.'ll have to feed 'em--must. That's the regulation.
Accident--free meals. That hasn't nothing to do with me. They don't
come poaching on my ground. I say, look out! Do yer call that bacon,

or buffaler steaks?"
And Yerkes rushed upon his subordinate, Bettany, who was cutting the
breakfast bacon with undue thickness, and took the thing in hand
himself. The crushed Bettany, who was never allowed to finish
anything, disappeared hastily in order to answer the electric bell which
was ringing madly from Philip Gaddesden's berth.