The Vancouver express was running in the dark through the woods west of Fort William. After the rain of early summer, wash-outs that undermine the track are numerous and the express had been delayed. Now, however, the road was good and the engineer drove his big locomotive with throttle wide open. Black smoke blew about the rocking cars, cinders rattled on the roofs, and showers of sparks sped past the windows. The wheels roared on shaking trestles and now and then awoke an echoing clang of steel, for the company was doubling the track and replacing the wooden bridges by metal.
This was George Lister's business, and he lounged in a corner of a smoking-compartment, and rather drowsily studied some calculations. He was bound West from Montreal, and in the morning would resume his labors at a construction camp. There was much to be done and the construction bosses who had sent for him were getting impatient.
Lister's thoughts wandered from the figures. He liked his occupation and admitted that he had been lucky, but began to see he had gone as far as he could expect to go. The trouble was, he had not enjoyed the scientific training that distinguished the men who got important posts. His mechanical career began in the engine-room of a wheat-boat on the lakes, and he had entered the railroad company's service when shipping was bad and steamers were laid up. Although he had studied for a term or two at McGill University, he knew his drawbacks. Sometimes promotion was given for merit, but for the most part the men who made progress came from technical colleges and famous engineering works.
An accident in the ranges on the Pacific slope, when a mountain locomotive jumped the track and plunged down a precipitous hillside, gave Lister his first chance. He got the locomotive back to the line, and being rewarded by a better post, stubbornly pushed himself nearer the front. Now, however, it looked as if he must stop. Rules were not often relaxed in favor of men who had no highly-placed friends. Yet Lister wondered.
Not long since, a gentleman whose word carried some weight at the company's office had visited the construction camp with his indulged daughter. The girl was clever, adventurous, and interested by pioneer work, and Lister had helped her to some thrills she obviously enjoyed. She had, with his guidance, driven a locomotive across a shaking, half-braced bridge, fired a heavy blasting shot, and caught big gray trout from his canoe. Although Lister used some reserve, their friendship ripened, and when she left she hinted she had some power she might be willing to use on his behalf.
All the same, Lister was proud. The girl belonged to a circle he could not enter, and if he got promotion, it must be by his merits. He was not the man to get forward by intrigue and the clever use of a woman's influence; he had no talent for that kind of thing. He let it go, and tried to concentrate on his calculations.
By and by the colored porter stopped to tell him his berth was fixed and the passengers were going to bed. Lister nodded, put up his papers, and then lighted a cigarette. The smoking-compartment was hot, the light the rocking lamp threw about had hurt his eyes, and he thought he would go out on the platform for a few minutes.
He went. The draught that swept the gap between the cars was bracing and cool. There was a moon, he saw water shine and dark pines stream past. The snorting of the locomotive broke in a measured beat through the roll of wheels; the rocks threw back confused echoes about the clanging cars. Then the gleam among the trees got wider and Lister knew they were nearing a trestle that crossed an arm of a lake. In fact, he had wondered whether he would be sent to pull down the bridge and rebuild it with steel.
He sat down on the little box-seat, with his back against the door. The platform had not the new guards the company was then fitting; there was an opening in the rails, and one could go down the steps when the train was running. The moonlight touched the back of the car in front, but Lister was in the gloom, and when the vestibule door opposite opened he was annoyed. If somebody wanted to go through the train, he must get up.
A girl came out of the other car and seizing the rails looked down. She was in the light, and Lister remarked that she did not wear traveling clothes; he thought her small, knitted cap, short dress, and loose jacket indicated that she had come from a summer camp. Then she turned her head and he saw her face was rather white and her look was strained. It was obvious that something had disturbed her.
The girl did not see him, and while he wondered whether he ought to get up she put her foot on the step and leaned out, as if she weighed the possibility of jumping off. She swung back when the cars lurched round a curve, and the measured roll of wheels changed to a sharp, broken din. The train was running on to the trestle and Lister saw the water shine below the platform. He got up, and moving quietly, seized the girl's arm and pulled her from the rails.
"A jolt might throw you off," he said.
She looked up with a start and the blood came to her skin, but she gave him a quick, searching glance. Lister was athletic, his face was bronzed by frost and sun, and his look was frank. She lowered her eyes and her color faded.
"Does the train stop soon?" she asked.
"If the engineer's lucky, we won't stop until he makes the next water-tank, and it's some distance."
She turned with a quick, nervous movement and glanced at the door. Lister imagined she was afraid somebody might come out.
"Could one persuade or bribe the conductor to pull up?"
Lister hesitated. He knew the train gang and was a railroad boss, but the company was spending a large sum in order to cut down the time-schedule and somebody must account for all delay.
"I think not. You see, unless there's a washout or the track is blocked, nothing is allowed to stop the Vancouver express."
The girl glanced at the door again and then gave him an appealing look.
"But I must get off! I oughtn't to have come on board. I want to go East, towards Montreal, and not to Winnipeg."
Although he was not romantic, Lister was moved. She was very young and her distress was obvious. Somehow he felt her grounds for wanting to leave the train were good. Indeed, he rather thought she had meant to jump off had they not run on to the bridge. Yet for him to stop the express would be ridiculous; the conductor and engineer would pay for his meddling. With quiet firmness he pulled the girl farther from the opening of the rails.
"We stop long before we get to Winnipeg," he said soothingly. "Then it's possible we'll be held up by a blocked track. Wash-outs are pretty numerous on this piece of line. However, if we do stop and you get down, you'll be left in the woods."
"Oh!" she said, "that's not important! All I want is to get off."
"Very well," said Lister. "If we are held up, I'll look for you. But I don't know if the jolting platform is very safe. Hadn't you better go back to your car?"
She gave him a quick glance and he thought she braced herself.
"I'm not going back. I can't. It's impossible!"
Lister was curious, but hesitated about trying to satisfy his curiosity. The girl was afraid of somebody, and, seeing no other help, she trusted him.
"Then, you had better come with me and I'll find you a berth where you won't be disturbed," he said.
She followed him with a confidence he thought moving, and when they met the conductor he took the man aside.
"That's all right," said the other. "Nobody's going to bother her while I'm about."
Lister returned to the smoking-compartment, but the adventure had given him a pleasant thrill and he did not feel sleepy. He got out his calculations and tried to interest himself until a man entered the car. The fellow was rather handsome and his clothes were good, but Lister thought he looked perplexed. He gave Lister a keen glance and went on through the car. Some minutes afterwards, he came back, frowning savagely, stopped in front of Lister, as if he meant to speak, hesitated, and went out by the vestibule.
It was plain the fellow had gone to look for the girl and had not found her. The conductor had seen to that. Lister smiled, but admitted that the thing was puzzling. The man was older than the girl, although he was not old enough to be her father. If he were her husband, she would not have run away from him, and it did not look as if he were her lover. Lister saw no light, but since it was obvious she feared the man he resolved, if possible, to help her to escape.
Some time afterwards, the whistle pierced the roll of wheels, and Lister, going to the platform, saw a big electric head-lamp shine like a star. The cars were slowing and he imagined the operator had tried to run a construction train across the section before the express came up. They would probably stop for a minute at the intersection of the main and side tracks. Hurrying through the train, Lister found the conductor, who look him to a curtained berth, and the girl got down. She was dressed and wore her knitted cap.
"If you are resolved to go, I may be able to help you off," Lister said.
"I must go," she replied, and although Lister remarked that her hands trembled as she smoothed her crumpled dress, her voice was steady.
"Very well," he said. "Come along."
When he opened the vestibule door the train was stopping and the beam from a standing locomotive's head-lamp flooded the track with dazzling light. For a moment the girl hesitated, but when Lister went down the steps she gave him her hand and jumped. Lister felt her tremble and was himself conscious of some excitement. He did not know if he was rash or not, but since she meant to go, speed was important, because the man from whom she wanted to escape might see them on the line. He went to the waiting engine in front of a long row of ballast cars, on which a big gravel plough loomed faintly in the dark.
"Who's on board?" he asked.
A man he knew looked out from the cab window.
"Hallo, Mr. Lister! I'm on board with Jake. We're going to Malcolm cut for gravel. Washout's mixed things; operator reckoned he could rush us through—"
"Then you'll stop and get water at the tank," Lister interrupted. "Will you make it before the East-bound comes along?"
"We ought to make it half-an-hour ahead. Wires all right that way. Nothing's on the road."
Lister turned to the girl. "If you're going East you must buy a new ticket at Malcolm. Have you money?"
"I have some—" she said and stopped, and Lister imagined she had not until then thought about money and had not much.
"You'll take this lady to Malcolm, Roberts, and put her down where she can get to the station," he said to the engineer. "Nobody will see you have a passenger, but if the agent's curious, I'll fix the thing with him."
It was breaking rules, but the man knew Lister, and Lister knew he could be trusted. He took some bills from his wallet, and as he helped the girl up the steps pushed the paper into her hand.
She turned to the cab door, and Lister imagined she was hardly conscious of the money he had given her. Her color was high but her look indicated keen relief.
"Oh!" she said, "I owe you much! You don't know all you have done. I will not forget—"
Somebody waved a lantern, a whistle shrieked, and the locomotive bell began to toll. Lister jumped back and seized the rails above the platform steps as the car lurched forward. They moved faster, the beam of the head-lamp faded, and the train rolled on into the dark.
When the train started Lister did not go to his berth. His curiosity was excited and he wondered whether he had been rash. Now he came to think about it, the girl was attractive, and perhaps this to some extent accounted for his willingness to help. Moreover she was young, and it was possible her relations had put her in the man's control. If so, his meddling could not be justified.
After a time he heard the whistle, and imagined the train was going to stop at a small station to which mails were brought from some mining camps. The neighboring country was rugged and lonely, but a trail ran south through the woods to the American frontier. When the cars stopped he pushed down the window and looked out.
Small trees grew along the track and the light from the cars touched their branches. The line was checkered by illuminated patches and belts of gloom. Lister heard somebody open the baggage car and then saw a man run along the line beside the train. Another jumped off a platform and they met not far from Lister's window. The man who got down was the fellow who had gone through the car looking for the girl. The locomotive pump throbbed noisily and Lister could not hear their talk, but he thought they argued.
The one who came up the line looked impatient and put his hand on his companion's arm, as if to urge him away. The other stepped back, and his gesture implied that he refused to go. The train was long, the passengers were asleep, and the men, no doubt, imagined nobody saw them. Lister thought the fellow who got down did not know the girl was gone and did not mean to leave the train without her. The light touched the men's faces, and it was obvious that one was angry and the other disturbed. The scene intrigued Lister. It was like watching an act in a cinema play of which one did not know the plot.
After a minute or two a lantern flashed up the track, the bell tolled, and the nearer man jumped back on the step. Lister heard a vestibule door shut and then the throb of wheels began. The fellow on the line frowned and threw out his hands angrily. From the movement of his lips Lister thought he swore, but the car rolled past him and he melted into the dark.
Lister went to his berth, but did not undress. Much of the night had gone, he would reach his camp soon after daybreak, and the train would only stop long enough for him to jump off. He could sleep in his clothes for an hour or two. A slackening of the roll of wheels wakened him and he got out of his berth, but the big lamps were burning and when he went to the door he saw dawn had not come. It was obvious they had not reached the construction camp. Lister shivered, and was returning to his berth when the conductor opened the door.
"Our luck's surely not good to-night," he said. "They're pulling us up at Maple. If it's not a washout, somebody will get fired."
He went off, grumbling, but when the train stopped came back with a trooper of the North-West Mounted Police.
"Where's the guy you told me to watch out for?" he asked.
Lister said he did not know and offered to go with them and help find the man. It looked as if he were going to see the end of the play.
When they opened a vestibule door a man came out of the car in front and stopped, as if he were dazzled by the beam from the conductor's lifted lamp.
"That's the fellow," Lister shouted.
He thought the other saw the trooper's uniform, because he stepped back quickly. The door, however, was shut. When he let go the handle the spring-bolt had engaged.
"Nothing doing that way!" said the trooper. "My partner's coming along behind you; you're corraled all right. I've a warrant for you, Louis Shillito."
The North-West Police work in couples and the situation was plain. One trooper had begun his search at the front of the train, the other at the back, and Shillito, hearing the first turn the passengers out of their berths, had tried to steal away and met the other. His face got strangely white, but Lister thought it was rather with rage than fear. His lips drew back in a snarl, and the veins swelled on his forehead. He occupied the center of the illuminated circle thrown by the conductor's lamp, and his savage gaze was fixed. Lister saw he was not looking at the policeman but at him.
"Blast you!" Shillito shouted. "If you hadn't butted in—"
"Cut it out!" said the trooper. "Hands up; we've got you! Don't make trouble."
Shillito's hand went behind him. It was possible he felt for the door knob, but the trooper meant to run no risks. Although he had put down his rifle and taken out his handcuffs, he jumped forward, across the platform, and Shillito bent sideways to avoid his spring. The fellow was athletic and his quick side-movement indicated he was something of a boxer; the policeman was embarrassed by his handcuffs and young. Shillito seized him and threw him against the rails, close to the gap where the steps went down. The trooper gasped, his grasp got slack, and his body slipped along the rails. It looked as if Shillito would throw him down the steps, and Lister jumped.
He saw Shillito's hand go up and next moment got a heavy blow. For all that, he seized the man and held on, though blood ran into his eyes and he felt dizzy. Shillito struggled like a savage animal and Lister imagined the trooper did not help much. He got his arms round his antagonist and tried to pull him down; Shillito was trying to reach the opening in the rails. After a moment or two, Lister felt his muscles getting slack, lurched forward, and saw nothing in front. He plunged out from the gap, struck a step with his foot, and somebody fell on him. Then he thought he heard a rifle-shot, and knew nothing more.
By and by somebody pulled him to his feet and he saw the conductor holding his arm. A group of excited passengers stood round them in the light that shone from the train and some others ran along the edge of the woods. The trooper and Shillito were gone.
Lister's head hurt, he felt shaky, and when he wiped his face his hand was wet with blood.
"My head's cut. S'pose I hit something when I fell," he said.
"Shillito socked it to you pretty good," the conductor replied, and waved his lamp. "All aboard!" he shouted, and pushed Lister up the steps.
When they reached the platform the car jolted and Lister sat down, with his back against the door.
"My legs won't hold me," he said in an apologetic voice. "Did Shillito get off?"
"Knocked out the trooper and made the bush; the other fellow was way back along the train," the conductor replied. "They want him for embezzlement and will soon get on his trail, but the wash-out's broke the wires and I reckon he'll cross the frontier ahead. Now you come along and I'll try to fix your cut."
Lister went, and soon after a porter helped him into his berth. His head hurt and he felt very dull and slack, but he slept and when he woke bright sunshine streamed into the standing car and he saw the train had stopped at Winnipeg. Soon afterwards the conductor and one of the station officials put him into an automobile.
"If the reporters get after you, remember you're not to talk about the girl," he said to the conductor.
The other nodded, and signed the driver to start. The car rolled off and stopped at the house of a doctor who dressed the cut on Lister's head and ordered him a week's rest. Lister went to a hotel, and in the morning found a romantic narrative of Shillito's escape in the newspaper, but was relieved to note that nothing was said about the girl. The report, however, stated that a passenger who tried to help the police had got badly hurt and Shillito had vanished in the woods. The police had not found his trail and it was possible he would reach the American frontier.
Lister thought the thing was done with, and when a letter arrived from the construction office, telling him to stay until he felt able to resume his work, resigned himself to rather dreary idleness. For some days his head ached and he could not go out; the other guests were engaged in the city and there was nobody to whom he could talk. He got badly bored, and it was a relief when one afternoon the gentleman he had met at the construction camp arrived with his daughter. For all that, Lister was surprised. Duveen was a man of some importance, Miss Duveen was a fashionable young lady, and Lister had imagined they had forgotten him. He took his guests to a corner of the spacious rotunda where a throbbing electric fan blew away the flies, and Duveen gave him a cigarette.
"TheRecorddid not give your name, but we soon found out who was the plucky passenger," he said with a friendly smile. "Ruth thought she'd like to see you, and since I wasn't engaged this afternoon we came along."
"I did want to come, but I really think you proposed the visit," Ruth remarked.
"Oh, well," said Duveen, "I don't know if it's important, but perhaps we oughtn't to make Mr. Lister talk."
Lister declared he wanted to talk, and Duveen said presently, "I don't see why you butted in."
For a moment or two Lister hesitated. He was resolved to say nothing about the girl; it was obvious she would not like her adventure known, but he must be cautious. Duveen was clever, and he thought Miss Duveen gave him a curious glance.
"The trooper was young and I sympathized with his keenness. Looked as if it was his first important job and he meant to make good."
"A romantic impulse?" Duveen remarked, and laughed. "Well, when one is young, I expect it's hard to stand off while a fight's going on. All the same, it's strange you didn't sympathize with the fellow who was corraled. That's youth's natural instinct, although I allow it's not often justified."
"The trooper was corraled. He'd put down his rifle and Shillito had a gun; I reckon it was the sharp butt of a heavy automatic that cut my head. Then I didn't like the fellow; he'd come through the train before and looked a smart crook."
"He is a crook and got away with a big wad of the lumber firm's money. However, you were rash to jump for a man with a pistol. You didn't know he'd use the butt. All the same, you look brighter than we thought and can take a rest. I expect the construction office won't rush you back until you're fit."
"I want to get back. Loafing round the hotel is dreary and my job's not getting on. Although I'm ordered to lie off, this won't count for much. I'll be made accountable for getting behind."
Duveen said nothing for a moment or two, but he looked thoughtful, and Lister imagined Miss Duveen studied him quietly. He did not belong to the Duveens' circle; he was ruder. In fact, it was rather strange to see these people sitting with him, engaged in friendly talk, although, now he thought about it, Miss Duveen had not said much.
She was a pretty girl and Lister liked her fashionable dress. Somehow Ruth Duveen harmonized with the tall pillars and rich ornamentation of the rotunda. One felt she belonged to spacious rooms. Duveen's clothes were in quiet taste, he wore a big diamond, and looked commanding. One felt this was a man whose word carried weight.
"You're something of a hustler," he remarked with a smile. "For all that, you got a nasty knock, and your quitting for a time is justified. Well, if you feel lonesome, come along and dine at our hotel. Then we'll go and see the American opera. I'm told the show is good."
Lister made some excuses, but Duveen would not be refused.
"When we stopped at your camp you made things smooth for us. You gave Ruth some thrills, showed her the romance of track-grading, and generally helped her to a good time. Anyhow, the thing is fixed. We'll send the car for you."
They went off soon afterwards, and Lister mused and smoked. He had hardly expected to meet the Duveens again and wondered whether he owed the visit to Ruth or her father; he had remarked at the camp that she was generally indulged. Well, it was plain Duveen could help him and Lister was ambitious, but he frowned and pulled himself up. He was not going to intrigue for promotion and use a girl's friendship in order to force his chiefs to see his merits. Things like that were done, but not by him; it demanded qualities he did not think were his. Moreover he did not know if Ruth Duveen was his friend. She was attractive, but he imagined she was clever. All the same, if he could get the doctor to fix his bandage so as to make it inconspicuous he would dine with the Duveens.
Lister went to the opera with his hosts and was moved by the music and the feeling that he was one of a careless, pleasure-seeking crowd. For the most part, his life had been strenuous and the crowds he knew were rude. His home was a bare shack, sometimes built on the wind-swept alkali plains, and sometimes in the tangled woods. From daybreak until dusk fell, hoarse shouts, the clank of rails, the beat of heavy hammers filled his ears, and often the uproar did not stop at dark. When a soft muskeg swallowed the new track, he must watch, by the flaring blast-lamps, noisy ploughs throw showers of gravel from the ballast cars.
Labor and concentration had left their mark. Lister's muscles were hard, but his body and face were thin. He looked fine-drawn and alert; his talk was direct and quick. As a rule, his skin was brown, but now the brown was gone, and the lines on his face were deeper. His injury accounted for something and he felt the reaction from a strain he had hardly noted while it must be borne. Although he had not altogether hidden his bandage and his clothes were not the latest fashion, Ruth Duveen was satisfied. Somehow he looked a finer type than the business men in the neighboring stalls. One felt the man's clean virility and got a hint of force.
Lister was highly strung. The music stirred his imagination, and when the curtain went down the light and glitter, the perfume that drifted about, the women's dress, and the society of his attractive companion gave him a curious thrill. He began to see he had missed much; ambitions that had forced him to struggle for scope to use fresh efforts took another turn. Life was not all labor. Ruth Duveen had enlightened him.
He studied her. She had grace and charm; it was much to enjoy, for one evening, the society of a girl like this. Duveen went off between the acts to meet his friends, but Ruth stopped and talked. Her smile was gracious and Lister let himself go. He told her about adventures on the track and asked about her life in the cities. Perhaps it was strange, but she did not look bored, and when the curtain went down for the last time he felt a pang. The evening was gone and in a day or two he must resume his labor in the wilds. Lister did not cheat himself; he knew the strange, romantic excitement he had indulged would not be his again. When they went down the passage Ruth gave him a smiling glance and saw his mouth was firm.
"You look rather tired," she said. "Have we tired you?"
Lister turned and his eyes were thoughtful. She had stopped to fasten her cloak, and the people pushing by forced her to his side. An electric lamp burned overhead and her beauty moved him. He noted the heavy coils of her dark hair, her delicate color, and the grace of her form.
"I'm not at all tired," he said. "I feel remarkably braced and keen, as if I'd waked up from sleep. In fact, I think I have awakened."
Ruth laughed. She saw he was not smiling and his graveness gave her a sense of power. He had owned, with typical frankness, that she had moved him.
"Sometimes to wake up suddenly gives one a jolt," she said. "However, you will soon get calm again in the woods."
He sensed something provocative and challenging in her voice, but he would not play up.
"I wonder—" he said quietly. "In a way, the proper line's to go to sleep again."
"Sometimes one dreams! I expect you dream about locomotives breaking through trestles and dump-cars plunging into muskegs?"
He laughed. "They're things I know, and safe to dream about. All the same, I rather expect I'll be haunted by lights and music, pretty dresses and faces—"
He stopped, and Ruth remarked: "If these have charm, there are no very obvious grounds for your going without. You can command a locomotive and Winnipeg's not very far from your camp. But we're stopping the people, and I can't fix this clasp."
She moved, and the opera cloak fell back from her arm, which was uncovered but for the filmy sleeve that reached a little below the shoulder. He noted its fine curves and the silky smoothness of her skin. Although he fastened the clasp with a workman's firm touch, he thrilled. Then the crowd forced them on and they found Duveen waiting by the car. When they stopped at Lister's hotel Ruth said, "We are going to Winnipeg Beach, Saturday. Would you like to come?"
Duveen nodded. "A happy thought! I've got to talk to some business people who make Ruth tired. If you come along, I needn't bother about her."
"That's how one's father argues!" Ruth exclaimed.
Lister hesitated. "I was told to lie off because I was hurt. If I'm fit to enjoy an excursion, I'm fit to work."
"You're too scrupulous, young man. Have a good time when it's possible, or you'll be sorry afterwards. I reckon you're justified to take all the company will give."
"It was caution, not scruples. Suppose I meet one of the railroad chiefs?"
"I'll fix him," Duveen rejoined. "Your bosses won't get after you when you belong to my party. Anyhow, we'll look out for you."
The car rolled off, and Lister, going to the rotunda, lighted a cigarette and mused. Ruth Duveen had beauty, he liked her but must use caution, since he imagined the friendship she had given him was something of an indulged girl's caprice. Then he began to think about the girl he had met on board the train. Now he was able, undisturbed, to draw her picture, he saw she, too, had charm, but she was not at all like Ruth. The strange thing was, one did not note if she were beautiful or not. In a way, this did not matter; her pluck and firmness fixed one's interest.
Lister threw away his cigarette. He was poor and not romantic. The girl he had helped had vanished, and after their excursion he hardly expected to see Ruth again. Ruth was kind, but she would soon forget him when he was gone. He would go to Winnipeg Beach with her, and then return to the woods and let his job absorb him. In the meantime, his head had begun to ache and he went to bed.
The Saturday morning was typical of Winnipeg in summer. The fresh northwest breeze that sweeps the Manitoba plains had dropped. Dark thunder-clouds rolled about the sky, but the sun was hot and an enervating humidity brooded over the town. The perspiring crowd in Main Street moved slackly, the saloon bars were full, and the groups of holiday-makers flocking to the station wore a languid look.
Lister met his hosts in the marble waiting hall where a gold-framed panorama of Canadian scenery closes the view between the rows of stately pillars. Duveen had brought three or four keen-eyed, nervous business men, a rather imposing lady, and Ruth, and they got on board a local train soon after Lister arrived. Winnipeg Beach was then beginning to attract holiday-makers from the prairie town. One could row and fish in sheltered bays, and adventure on board a gasoline launch into the northern wilds. Boating, however, had no charm for Duveen's friends. The excursion was an opportunity for friendly business talk, and when lunch was over Ruth and Lister went out on the lawn in front of the hotel.
There was no wind. A few dark clouds floated motionless overhead, but outside their shadow the lake shone like glass, running back until it melted into faint reflections on the horizon. A varnished launch flashed in the sun and trailed a long white wake across the water.
"Do you want to stay and talk to Mrs. Knapp?" Ruth asked.
"I do not," said Lister. "Anyhow, I imagine Mrs. Knapp doesn't want to talk to me. I'm not a big-business man."
Ruth laughed. "Oh, well, when you speculate at the Board of Trade, a railroad engineer is not a useful friend. I suppose I ought to stay, but the things one ought to do are tiresome. Let's go on the lake."
Lister got a canoe, and fixing a cushion for Ruth, picked up the paddle.
"Where shall we go?"
"North, as far as you can. Let's get away from the boats and trippers and imagine we're back in the woods where you helped me catch the big gray trout."
"Then you liked it at the construction camp?" Lister remarked. "It was a pretty rude spot."
"For an indulged city girl?" Ruth said, smiling. "Well, perhaps I'd got all the satisfaction dinner parties and dances and the society at hotels can give. I knew the men who handle finance and work the wires behind the scenes, but I wanted to know the others who do the strenuous things and keep the country going. I came, and you helped me to understand the romance of the lakes and woods."
Lister did not remember if he had tried to do so and thought he had not. All the same, the girl was keen and interested. In summer, it was not hard to feel the lonely sheets of water and tangled bush were touched by romance. Then, perhaps, everybody felt at times a vague longing for the rude and primitive. But he was not a philosopher, and dipping the paddle, he drove the canoe across the tranquil lake.
In the meantime, he imagined Ruth studied him with quiet amusement, and wondered whether she thought he was not playing up. He did not mean to play up; the game was intricate, and, if he were rash, might cost him much. He had taken off his hat and jacket and effort had brought back the color to his skin. His thin face had the clean bronze tint of an Indian's; the soft shirt showed the fine-drawn lines of his athletic figure; but Lister was not conscious of this. He knew his drawbacks, but not all his advantages.
When he had gone some distance and the hotel and houses began to melt into the background, he stopped and let the canoe drift.
"How far shall we go?" he asked.
Ruth indicated a rocky point, cut off by the glimmering reflection, that seemed to float above the horizon.
"Let's see what is on the other side. Now and then one wants to know. Exploration's intriguing. Don't you think so?"
"Sometimes; in a practical sense. When a height of land cuts the landscape, I wonder whether one could find an easy down-grade for the track across the summit. That's about as far as my imagination goes."
"Oh, well," said Ruth, "exploration like that is useful and one doesn't run much risk. But risk and adventure appeal to some people."
Lister resumed paddling. The girl had charm and he was young; if he were not cautious, there might be some risk for him. He was not a clever philanderer, and Ruth and Duveen had been kind. By and by a puff of cool wind touched his hot skin and he looked round. A black cloud had rolled up and there were lines on the water.
"We may get a blow and some thunder," he remarked. "Shall we go back?"
"Not yet. We'll make the point first. If it does thunder, summer storms don't last."
He paddled harder and a small white wave lapped the canoe's bows. The sky was getting dark, and now the lines that streaked the lake were white, but the wind was astern and they were going fast. The glimmering reflections had vanished and the rocks ahead rose sharply from the leaden water. The point was some distance off, but Lister knew he must reach it soon.
A flash of forked lightning leaped from the sky and touched the lake, there was a long, rumbling peal, and then a humming noise began astern. Angry white ripples splashed about the canoe and lumps of hail beat Lister's head. Then, while the thunder rolled across the sky, the canoe swerved. It was blowing hard, the high bow and stern caught the wind, the strength was needed to hold her straight with the single paddle. If he brought her round, he could not paddle to windward, and to steer across the sea that would soon get up might be dangerous. They must make the point and land. He threw Ruth his jacket, for spray had begun to fly and the drops from the paddle blew on board.
"Put on the thing; I've got to work," he said.
In a few minutes his work was hard. Short, white waves rolled past, the canoe lurched and swerved, and Lister knew if she swung off across wind and sea she might capsize. He must keep her running and let the combers split against her pointed stern. The combers were getting large and their hissing tops surged by some height above the gunwale, but so long as he could keep her before them they would not come on board. When her bows went up she sheered, as if she meant to shoot across the hollow left by the sea that rolled by. He stopped her with a back-stroke and then drove hard ahead, for he must have speed to steer when the next sea came on. In the meantime, the lightning flickered about the lake and between the flashes all was nearly dark. The tops of the waves tossed against leaden cloud and he could hardly see the rocks for which he steered.
By and by, however, the point stood out close ahead. The trees on the summit bent in the wind; spray leaped about the bowlders where the white foam rolled. He must go round and find a landing to lee, but to go round he must cross the belt of breaking water, with the savage wind abeam. The canoe shipped some water, and riding in on a comber's crest, narrowly missed a rock that lifted its top for a moment out of the foam. Then Lister drove her in behind the point and helped Ruth to land on a gravel beach. Her eyes sparkled and he saw she had not been daunted.
"We're all right now, but we have got to stay until the storm blows out," he said.
They found shelter in a hollow of the cliff and sat among the driftwood while the rain that blotted out the lake drove overhead. The deluge did not reach them and the cold was going.
"You go back on Monday?" Ruth said at length.
Lister smiled with humorous resignation. "I must. The strange thing is, when I left my job before I was keen to get back. Now I'd rather stop and loaf."
"Then you were not bored at Winnipeg?"
"Not at all," Lister declared. "If it would give me a holiday like this, I'd get hurt again."
"I expect the woods get dreary. Then, perhaps, one doesn't make much progress by sticking to the track? Don't you want to get into the office where the big plans are made?"
"I don't know," said Lister thoughtfully. "On the track you're all right if you know your job; at headquarters you need qualities I don't know are mine. Anyhow, I'm not likely to get there, if I want or not."
Ruth gave him a curious glance. "Sometimes one's friends can help. Would you really like a headquarters post?"
Lister moved abruptly and his mouth got firm. Perhaps Ruth exaggerated her father's importance, but it was possible Duveen could get him promotion. All the same, Lister saw what his taking the job implied; he must give up his independence and be Duveen's man. Moreover, if the girl meant to help, she had some grounds for doing so. He thrilled and was tempted, but he thought hard. It looked as if she liked him and was perhaps willing to embark upon a sentimental adventure, but he thought this was all. She would not marry a poor man.
"No," he said, with a touch of awkwardness. "I reckon I had better stick to the track. To know where you properly belong is something, and if I took the other job, my chiefs would soon find me out."
"You're modest," Ruth remarked. "One likes modest people, but don't you think you're obstinate?"
"When the trail you hit goes uphill, obstinacy's useful."
"If you won't take help, you may be long reaching the top, but we'll let it go. The wind hasn't dropped much. How can we get back?"
"We must wait," Lister replied with a twinkle. "The trouble about an adventure is, when you start you're often forced to stay with it and put it over. That sometimes costs more than you reckon."
Ruth's eyes sparkled, but she forced a smile. "Logical people make me tired. But why do you imagine I haven't the pluck to pay?"
"I don't," said Lister. "I've no grounds to imagine anything like that. My business was to take care of you and I ought to have seen the storm was coming. Now I'm mad because I didn't watch out."
"Sometimes you're rather nice," Ruth remarked. "You know I made you go on. All the same, we must start as soon as possible."
Lister got up presently and launched the canoe. The thunder had gone, but the breeze was strong and angry white waves rolled up the lake. To drive the canoe to windward was heavy labor, and while she lurched slowly across the combers the sun got low. Lister's wet hands blistered and his arms ached, but he swung the paddle stubbornly, and at length the houses and hotel stood out from the beach. When they got near the landing Ruth looked ahead.
"The train's ready to pull out!" she exclaimed. "Can you make it?"
Lister tried. His face got dark with effort and his hands bled, but in a few minutes he ran the canoe aground. Ruth jumped out and they reached the station as the bell began to toll. Duveen waved to them from the track by the front of the train and then jumped on board, and Lister pushed Ruth up the steps of the last car. The car was second-class and crowded by returning holiday-makers, but the conductor, who did not know Lister and Miss Duveen, declared all the train was full and they must stay where they were. When he went off and locked the vestibule Lister looked about.
All the seats and much of the central passage were occupied, for the most part by young men and women. Some were frankly lovers and did not look disturbed by the banter of their friends. Lister was embarrassed, for Ruth's sake, until he saw with some surprise that she studied the others with amused curiosity. Looking down he met her twinkling glance and thought it something like a challenge. His embarrassment got worse. One could not talk because of the noise and to shout was ridiculous. He must stand in a cramped pose and try not to fall against Ruth when the cars rocked. He admitted that his proper background was the rude construction camp, and it was something of a relief when they rolled into Winnipeg.
Duveen's car was at the station, and Ruth stopped for a moment before she got on board.
"You start on Monday and we will be out of town to-morrow. I wish you good luck."
Lister thanked her, and when she got into the car she gave him a curious smile. "I think I liked you better in the woods," she said, and the car rolled off.
Soon after his return from Winnipeg, Lister stood one evening by a length of track planned to cut out an awkward curve. The new line ran into a muskeg that sucked down brush and logs and the loads of numerous gravel trains. Angry foremen declared one could not fill up the bog, and Lister knew the heads of the construction office grumbled about the delay. He was tired, for he had been strenuously occupied since morning, but could not persuade himself that the work had made much progress.
Small trees lay in tangled rows about the fresh gravel; farther back, the standing bush ran in a broken line against the fading light. In front, thin mist drifted across the muskeg where slender trunks rose from the quaking mud. Not far off a high, wooden trestle carried the rails across a ravine. The bridge would presently be rebuilt with steel, but in the meantime the frame was open and the gaps between the ties were wide.
It was getting dark and noisy blast-lamps threw up pillars of white fire. The line had sunk in the afternoon and it was necessary to lift the rails and fill up the subsidence before the next gravel train arrived. Lister was angry and puzzled, for he had pushed the road-bed across to near the other side, but the rails had not sunk in the new belt but in ground over which the trains had run.
By and by a man joined him and remarked: "The boys have got the ties up, but I reckon they won't fix the track for three or four hours. Looks as if the blamed muskeg was going to beat us."
"She can't beat us," Lister rejoined impatiently. "The trouble is, hauling the stuff she swallows runs up construction costs, and that counts against us. Did you leave Willis with the gang?"
The other laughed. "I did not. He was tired. Wanted something at the office and allowed he'd stop and take a smoke."
"Hustle him out when you go along, Kemp. I'd sooner our chiefs down East had kept that young man. The job's not soft enough for him. However, I s'pose he lighted the lamp across the bridge?"
"Willis has friends," Kemp remarked meaningly, and indicated a reflection behind the trees. "The lamp's burning."
Lister glanced at the trembling light. "I expect it's good enough for the engineer, but the flame's not steady. Willis hasn't bothered to get the pressure right. It's possible he didn't wait until she warmed the oil."
The powerful lamp had been carried across the bridge in order to warn the engineer of the gravel train, who on his last journey had run to the end of the line. The light could be seen for some distance up the track.
"I got after Hardie about making good time. We must dump his load in the soft spot before we stop," Lister resumed.
"He's coming now; climbing the height of land," said Kemp. "He'll let her go all out when he makes the top."
A measured throb rolled across the woods, and as the noise got louder the beat of the exhaust marked the progress of the train. The explosive snorts indicated that the locomotive labored up the last steep pitch, and Lister sat down by the rails. He was tired and would not be needed until the gravel plough threw the rattling ballast off the cars. After a few moments he looked up, for a man came out of the gloom.
"Hello, Willis! I s'pose you've been taking a quiet smoke?"
"That's so," said the other. "I've hustled round since sun-up and imagined the gang could get along for half an hour without my watching. You want to leave something to your foremen."
Lister said nothing. He did not choose his helpers, but tried to make the best use of those the bosses sent. Willis had some useful qualities, but he was slack, and got sulky if one drove him hard. The young man had come from the drawing-office of a famous bridge-building works.
In the meantime, the rumble of the gravel train grew to a pulsating roar. The locomotive had crossed the divide and was running furiously down grade. The roughly-ballasted track was uneven, but the engineer had been on board since daybreak and no doubt wanted to finish his job.
"She's in the rock cut now," Kemp remarked. "Hardie ought to throttle down when he runs out and sees the light."
Lister listened. The swelling note indicated that the train had left the cut, but it did not look as if the engineer was pulling up.
"She's coming along pretty fast," said Willis. "If he doesn't snub her soon, she'll jump the steel and take the muskeg."
Next moment Lister was on his feet. Hardie was driving too fast; Lister doubted if he could stop before the heavy train plunged through the broken track. The unsteady white flicker behind the trees had sunk and changed to smoky red. If looked as if the oil was not vaporizing properly and the lamp was going out. When the engineer saw the light it would be too late.
"Get the boys off the track. I'll try to fix the lamp," Lister shouted, and started for the bridge.
The errand was not his. Willis had lighted the lamp: moreover, one might have sent a workman, but when a job was urgent Lister went himself. The job was urgent and dangerous. Unless he made good speed, he would meet the train on the bridge and the cylinders of the locomotive projected beyond the edge.
The track was rough and fresh gravel rolled under his feet. Now and then he struck a cross-tie and nearly fell. It had got dark and among the trees the gloom was deep; one could not see the ties. Yet he must run, and his breath got labored and his heart thumped. He did not know where the train was, only that it was near. The woods throbbed with a savage din; the big cars, loaded with rattling gravel, clanged and roared as they plunged down grade.
Lister hardly thought he could stop the train. It looked as if he would be caught on the trestle, but he meant to go on. He did not argue about it; he was rather moved by instinctive stubbornness. At moments of strain one does not argue and logic has no appeal. Character counts for all, and Lister followed his bent. His job was urgent and must be carried out.
When he reached the bridge he saw white threads of water between the timbers of the open frame. The spacing of the ties was not regular, and if he stepped short, or too far, he would go through. Then, if he did not strike a brace, he would fall upon the rocks in the stream. All the same, he saw the blaze of the head-lamp pick out the trees across the ravine and sprang on to the bridge.
Somehow he hit the ties; perhaps by subconscious judgment, and perhaps by good luck. Then he felt loose gravel under his feet and thrilled with a strange fierce satisfaction. His breath was labored and his body wet by sweat, but the moving beam had not reached the lamp. He was going to make it.
When the black front of a gravel car leaped out of the gloom he jumped off the track. The locomotive pushed the cars, the train was long, and the lamp was but a few yards off. It had not gone out, although the flame had sunk to a faint red jet that would not be seen in the dust. His hands shook, but he gave the pump a few strokes and turned the valve wheel. The red jet got white and leaped higher and Lister, pumping hard, looked up the track. Big cars, rocking and banging, rushed past in a cloud of dust. Bits of gravel struck him and rattled against the lamp. The blurred, dark figures of men who sat upon the load cut against the fan-shaped beam, and in the background he saw a shower of leaping sparks.
But the other light was growing and Lister turned the wheel. Burning oil splashed around him, a pillar of fire rushed up, and when a whistle screamed he let go the valve and turned from the blinding dust. He was shaking, but the heavy snorting stopped. The engineer had seen the light and cut off steam.
When Lister looked round the train was gone. He had done what he had undertaken, and after waiting for a few moments he started back. Now he could go cautiously, he stopped and tried to brace himself at the end of the bridge. Although he had run across not long since, he shrank from the dark, forbidding gaps. For all that, he must get back, and feeling carefully for the ties, he reached the other side and was for some time engaged at the muskeg where two cars had overrun the broken rails. At length he went to the log shack he used for his office and sleeping-room, and soon after he lighted his pipe Kemp came in.
"You made it," Kemp remarked. "When you stopped me at the bridge I saw you'd get there."
Lister laughed. "Now you talk about it, I believe I did shout you to go back. Anyhow, you were some way behind. Did Willis come?"
"He did not. Willis was badly rattled and started for the muskeg. Thought he might get the track thrown across the hole, perhaps! I'm rather sorry for the kid. But what are you going to do about it?"
"Report we had two cars bogged and state the cost of labor. That's all, I think."
Kemp nodded. "Well, perhaps there's no use in talking about the lamp. Our business is to make good, using the tools we've got. All the same, if they want a man somewhere else, I guess I'd recommend Willis."
He smoked quietly for a time, and then resumed: "We don't get forward much. In fact, if the new Western irrigation company would take me on, I think I'd quit."
Lister pondered. Since his short stop at Winnipeg he had been conscious of a strange restlessness. He wanted something the woods could not give, and had begun to think life had more to offer than he had known. Besides, he was not making much progress.
"Since the double track is to be pushed on across the plains, the department will need a bigger staff and there ought to be a chance for some of us," he said. "Then there's the new work with the long bridges on the lake section that will carry higher pay. We're next on turn and have some claim. They ought to move us up."
"I doubt. We didn't come from a famous office, and it's not always enough to know your job."
"Somebody will get a better post, and if I'm lucky I'll stay. If not, I think I'll try the irrigation works."
"I feel like that," Kemp declared. "But suppose the irrigation people turn our application down?"
"Then I'll lie off for a time. Except when I went, to McGill with money I earned on a wheat barge, I haven't stopped work since I was a boy. Now I'm getting tired and think I'll pull out and go across to look at the Old Country. My father was an Englishman, and I have some money to burn."
"A good plan," Kemp agreed. "After a change you come back fresh with a stronger punch. Well, if we're not put on to the lake section, we'll try the irrigation scheme."
He got up and went off, but Lister sat on his bunk and smoked. The bunk was packed with swamp-grass on which his coarse Hudson's Bay blankets were laid, and the shack was bare. Ragged slickers and old overalls occupied the wall, long gum-boots a corner. A big box carried an iron wash-basin, and a small table some drawing instruments. Lister was not fastidious, and, as a rule, did not stop long enough at one spot to justify his making his shack comfortable. Besides, he found it necessary to concentrate on his work, and had not much time to think about refinements.
All the same, he felt the shack was dreary and his life was bleak. He had not felt this until he went to Winnipeg. On the whole, he had liked the struggle against physical obstacles. It was his proper job, but the struggle was stern and sometimes exhausting, and his reward was small. Now he wanted something different, and gave himself to vague and brooding discontent.
Ruth Duveen had broken his former tranquillity. In a sense, she had awakened him, and he imagined she had meant to do so. All the same, to think she loved him was ridiculous; she was rather experimenting with fresh material. Yet she was accountable for his discontent. She had helped him to see that while he labored in the woods he had missed much. He wanted the society of cultivated women and men with power and influence; to use control instead of carrying out orders; and to know something of refinement and beauty. After all, his father was a cultivated Englishman, although Lister imagined he had inherited qualities that helped him most from his Canadian mother. It was all he had inherited, except some debts he had laboriously paid.
He admitted that to realize his ambitions might be hard, but he meant to try. Canada was for the young and stubborn. If his chiefs did not promote him, he would make a plunge, and if his new plan did not work, he would go over and see the Old Country. Then he would come back, braced and refreshed, and try his luck again.
Putting down his pipe, he got into bed. He was tired and in the morning the gravel cars must be pulled out of the muskeg. The job was awkward, and while he thought about it he went to sleep.
A boisterous wind swept the high plain and round, white-edged clouds rolled across the sky. The grass that ran back from the horizon was parched, and in the distance a white streak of blowing dust marked a dried alkali lake. Dust of dark color drove along the row of wooden stores and houses that fronted the railroad track, across which three grain elevators rose like castles. The telegraph posts along the track melted into the level waste, and behind the spot where they vanished the tops of a larger group of elevators cut the edge of the plain.
The street was not paved, and the soil was deeply ploughed by wheels. The soil was the black gumbo in which the wheat plant thrives, but the town occupied the fringe of a dry belt and farming had not made much progress. Now, however, a company was going to irrigate the land with water from a river fed by the Rockies' snow. The town was square, and although it looked much smaller than real-estate agents' maps indicated, it was ornamented by four wooden churches, a Y.M.C.A. like a temple, and an ambitious public hall.
The Tecumseh Hotel occupied a corner lot at the end of the street and was not remarkably commodious or clean, but its charges were less than the Occidental's by the station, and Lister and Kemp were not fastidious. Some time had gone since they pulled the gravel cars out of the swamp and they had not been sent to the lake section. In consequence, they had applied to the irrigation company for a post, and having been called to meet the engineers and directors, imagined they were on the short list.
Lister lounged against the rails on the Tecumseh veranda. The boards were cracked and dirty; burned matches and cigar ends were scattered about, and a skeleton, gauze covered door that shut with a powerful spring kept some of the flies and mosquitoes out of the hotel.
"We'll know to-morrow," he remarked presently.
Kemp nodded. "I can't figure on our chances. Feel anxious about it?"
"Not much. In fact, I mean to use the thing to test my luck. If we're engaged, I'll stay in Canada; if they turn us down, I'll start for the Old Country."
"You have no particular plans, I reckon."
"No," said Lister, smiling. "I'm going to look about. I know our new Western towns, but I want to see old cities, churches, and cathedrals; the great jobs men made before they used concrete and steel. Then I'd like to study art and music and see the people my father talked about. Ours is a good country, but when it's all you know it gets monotonous." He indicated the row of wooden houses and lonely plain. "One wants more than the track and this."
"It's possible you may go across," said Kemp. "Looks as if the company's short list was pretty long. There's a gang of candidates in town, we have no pull on the directors, and I don't know if our advantages are very marked—" He stopped and laughed, for a man came round the corner. "Hello, Willis!" he exclaimed. "When did you arrive?"
"I came in on the last train. Got a notice to meet the Irrigation Board."
"Oh, well," said Kemp, "since the applicants are more numerous than the posts, I reckon another won't count. Do you expect they're going to take you on?"
"I expect my chance is as good as yours."
"I'll sell you my chance for ten dollars," Kemp rejoined.
"Nothing doing, at the price," said Willis, and went off.
Kemp laughed. Willis was marked by a superficial smartness his comrades sometimes found amusing and sometimes annoying. For the most part, they bore with him good-humoredly, but did not trust him when work that needed careful thought was done.
"The kid looks confident, but his applying for a job is something of a joke," Kemp remarked. "I'd put his value at fifty cents a day."
Lister agreed, and looked up the dusty street. The fronts of the small frame houses were cracked by the sun, and some were carried up to hide the roof and give the building a fictitious height. A Clover-leaf wagon stood in front of a store, the wheels crusted by dry mud, and the team fidgeted amidst a swarm of flies. Except for one or two railroad hands waiting by the caboose of a freight train, nobody was about. The town looked strangely dreary.
Yet Lister knew it stood for all the relief from labor in the stinging alkali dust one could get. One could loaf in a hard chair in front of the hotel, lose a dollar or two at the shabby pool-room, or go to a movie show and see pictures of frankly ridiculous Western melodrama. In the real West, the pictures were ridiculous, because romantic shootings-up did not happen. In fact, unless a stubborn labor dispute began, nothing broke the dull monotony of toilsome effort. Romance had vanished with the buffaloes. Lister admitted that he had not long felt the monotony. The trouble began when he stopped at Winnipeg.
"I think I'll go up the street," he said.
A rough plank sidewalk ran in front of the houses, and Lister imagined it was needed when the spring thaw and summer thunder-storms softened the gumbo soil. Opposite the Occidental he stopped, for Duveen occupied a chair on the veranda. While Lister hesitated Duveen beckoned him to come up.
"It's hot and dusty. Will you take a drink?" he said.
Lister refused with thanks and wondered whether Ruth was at the hotel. In a way, he would like to see her, but admitted that perhaps he had better not. When he asked if she was well Duveen said she had gone to Quebec, and gave Lister a cigar.
"It looks as if you had left the railroad," he remarked.
"I have not left yet," said Lister cautiously.
"Then, you won't go unless you get a better job? Did you know I had joined the Irrigation Board?"
Lister said he did not know, and got embarrassed when Duveen gave him a thoughtful glance. He wondered whether Ruth had talked to Duveen before she hinted he might get a better post.
"Perhaps I ought not to have come up. In fact, I hesitated—"
Duveen laughed. "So I remarked! You reckoned the Occidental stoop was pretty public and your talking to me might imply that you wanted my support? Well, I'll risk that. It's obvious you're on the short list. Do you want a post?"
For a moment or two Lister pondered. He did want a post; anyhow, he ought to try for it. On the whole he liked Duveen, and thought he might have liked Ruth better had she not been rich. All the same, Duveen was a shrewd manipulator of new industries and to take a post by his favor would be to own a debt, for which payment might be demanded. Yet Duveen had been kind and Lister hesitated.
"I asked for a post," he said. "If I'm engaged, I'll try to make good; but I must make good at the dam or on the ditch. Then I don't want to bother my friends. The company has my engineering record and must judge my usefulness by this. If they're not satisfied, I won't grumble much."
"You're an independent fellow, but I think I understand," Duveen rejoined with a twinkle. "A company director's dutyisto judge an applicant for a post by his professional record. If you are appointed, you want us to appoint you because we believe you are the proper man?"
"Something like that," said Lister quietly.
Duveen nodded, and his glance rested for a moment on Lister's forehead.
"I see the mark you got on board the train hasn't altogether gone. Did you hear anything about the girl you helped?"
"I did not," said Lister, starting, for he had not imagined Duveen knew about the girl. "I have not seen her since she went off on the locomotive."
"Then she has not written to you since?"
"She could not write, because she doesn't know who I am, and I don't know her. We talked for a minute or two, that's all."
Duveen's face was inscrutable and Lister wondered whether he doubted his statement. He was annoyed because the other knew so much.
"Oh, well," said Duveen, "I expect you heard they didn't catch Shillito, and since he got across the frontier, it's possible the Canadian police won't see him again. But I must get ready for supper. Will you stay?"
Lister excused himself and went back to the Tecumseh, where the bill of fare was frugal and the serving rude. He imagined he had refused much more than a first-class supper, but was satisfied he had taken the proper line. For one thing, Duveen knew Ruth had given him her friendship and, since he knew his daughter, it was significant that he had not thought it necessary to meddle. Lister wondered whether he had meant to use him, and was glad he had kept his independence. If he got the post now, he would know he had rather misjudged Duveen, but he doubted. All the same, he liked the man.
After supper Kemp and he sat on the veranda and watched the green glow fade from the edge of the plain. They did not talk much, but by and by Kemp remarked: "I thought I saw you go into the Occidental."
"Duveen called me on to the stoop."
"Duveen?" Kemp exclaimed. "Then he's got his hand on the wires! If the Irrigation Company puts the undertaking over, a number of the dollars will go to Duveen's wad. If he's your friend, I expect you know he could get you the job."
"It's possible. All the same, I hinted I didn't want his help."
Kemp laughed. "You surprise me every time! I'm all for a square deal and down with scheming grafters and log-rollers, but I allow I hate them worst when they give another fellow the post I want."
"The thing's not fixed yet. The company's engineers are going to judge and our record's pretty good. They may engage us. We'll know to-morrow."
"Sure thing," Kemp remarked dryly. "I reckon we'll both pull out on the first train."
It began to get dark and Lister went off to bed. He must get water from a cistern in the roof and to carry the heavy jug was awkward when one could not see. At the Tecumseh the guests were expected to carry water for themselves, and Lister, groping along the shadowy passage with his load, thought his doing so had some significance. It was part of the price he must pay for freedom.