Ranching for Sylvia | Page 9

down from his upper berth. He had some difficulty in getting into his jacket and putting on his boots, but he pushed through the startled passengers and sprang down upon the track before the train quite stopped. He knew that accidents were not uncommon in the wilds of northern Ontario.
Ragged firs rose, dripping, against the rosy glow in the eastern sky, with the narrow gap, hewed out for the line, running through their midst. Some had been stripped of their smaller branches by fire, and leaned, dead and blackened, athwart each other. Beneath them, shallow pools gleamed in the hollows of the rocks, which rose in rounded masses here and there, and the gravel of the graded track was seamed by water channels. George remembered having heard the roar of heavy rain and a crash of thunder during the night, but it was now wonderfully still and fresh, and the resinous fragrance of the firs filled the chilly air.
Walking forward, clear of the curious passengers who poured from the cars, he saw a lake running back into the woods. A tall water-tank stood on the margin with a shanty, in which George imagined a telegraph operator was stationed, at its foot. Ahead, the great locomotive was pouring out a cloud of sooty smoke. When George reached it he waited until the engineer had finished talking to a man on the line.
"What are we stopping for? Has anything gone wrong?" he asked.
"Freight locomotive jumped the track at a wash-out some miles ahead," explained the engineer. "Took the fireman with her; but I don't know much about it yet. Guess they'll want me soon."
George got the man to promise to take him, and then he went back until he met Edgar, to whom he related what he had heard.
"I'm not astonished," remarked the lad, indicating one of the sleepers. "Look at that--the rail's only held down by a spike or two; we fasten them in solid chairs. They're rough and ready in this country."
It was the characteristic hypercritical attitude of the newly-arrived Englishman; and George, knowing that the Canadians strongly resent it, noticed a look of interest in the eyes of a girl standing near them. She was, he imagined, about twenty-four years of age, and was dressed in some thin white material, the narrow skirt scarcely reaching to the tops of her remarkably neat shoes. Her arms were uncovered to the elbows; her neck was bare, but this displayed a beautiful skin; and the face beneath the turned-down brim of the big hat was attractive. George thought she was amused at Edgar's comment.
"Well," he said, "while we put down a few miles of metals they'd drive the track across leagues of new country and make a start with the traffic. They haven't time to be particular, with the great western wheat-land waiting for development."
The girl moved away; and when word went around that there would be a delay of several hours, George sat down beside the lake and watched the Colonist passengers wash their children's clothes. It was, he thought, rather a striking scene--the great train standing in the rugged wilderness, the wide stretch of gleaming water running back among the firs, and the swarm of jaded immigrants splashing bare-footed along the beach. Their harsh voices and hoarse laughter broke discordantly on the silence of the woods.
After a while an elderly man, in badly-fitting clothes and an old wide-brimmed hat, sauntered up with the girl George had noticed, and stopped to survey the passengers.
"A middling sample; not so many English as usual," he remarked. "If they keep on coming in as they're doing, we'll get harvest hands at a reasonable figure."
"All he thinks about!" Edgar commented, in a lowered voice. "That's the uncivil old fellow who smokes the vile leaf tobacco; he drove me out of the car once or twice. It's hard to believe he's her father; but in some ways they're alike."
"I can't help feeling sorry for them," the girl replied. "Look at those worn-out women, almost too limp to move. It's hot and shaky enough in our cars; the Colonist ones must be dreadful."
"Good enough for the folks who're in them; they're not fastidious," said the man.
They strolled on, and George felt mildly curious about them. The girl was pretty and graceful, with a stamp of refinement upon her; the man was essentially rugged and rather grim. Suddenly, however, a whistle blast rang out, and George hurried toward the engine. It was beginning to move when he reached it but, grasping a hand-rail, he clambered up. The cab was already full of passengers, but he had found a place on the frame above the wheels when he saw the girl in the light dress running, flushed and eager, along the line. Leaning down as far as possible, he