Ranching for Sylvia. Harold Bindloss
the pilot running down to the rails at their feet. The ledge along the top of it was narrow, and when his companion sat down George felt concerned about her safety. Her hat had blown back, setting free tresses of glossy hair; her light skirt fluttered against the sooty pilot.
"You'll have to allow me," he said, tucking the thin fabric beneath her and passing an arm around her waist.
He thought she bore it well, for her manner was free from prudish alarm or coquettish submission. With sound sense, she had calmly acquiesced in the situation; but George found the latter pleasant. His companion was pretty, the swift motion had brought a fine warmth into her cheeks, and a sparkle into her eyes; and George was slightly vexed when Edgar, appearing round the front of the engine, unnoticed by the girl, surveyed him with a grin.
"Is there room for me?" he asked. "I had to leave the place where I was, because my fellow passengers didn't seem to mind if they pushed me off. A stranger doesn't get much consideration in this country."
The girl looked up at him consideringly and answered, through the roar of the engine:
"You may sit here, if you'll stop criticizing us."
"It's quite fair," Edgar protested, as he took his place by her side. "I've been in Canada only three days, but I've several times heard myself alluded to as an Englishman, as if that were some excuse for me."
"Are you sure you haven't been provoking people by your superior air?"
"I didn't know I possessed one; but I don't see why I should be very humble because I'm in Canada."
The girl laughed good-humoredly, and turned to George.
"I'm glad I came. This is delightful," she said.
It was, George admitted, an exhilarating experience. The big engine was now running at top speed, rocking down the somewhat roughly laid line. Banks of trees and stretches of gleaming water sped past, The rails ahead came flying back to them. The sun was on the firs, and the wind that lashed George's face was filled with their fragrance. Once or twice a tress of his companion's hair blew across his cheek, but she did not appear to notice this. He thought she was conscious of little beyond the thrill of speed.
At length the engine stopped where the line crossed a lake on a high embankment. A long row of freight-cars stood near a break in the track into which the rails ran down, and a faint cloud of steam rose from the gap.
George helped the girl down, anticipating Edgar, who seemed anxious to offer his assistance, and they walked forward until they could see into the pit. It was nearly forty feet in depth, for the embankment, softened by heavy rain, had slipped into the lake. In the bottom a huge locomotive lay shattered and overturned, with half a dozen men toiling about it. The girl stopped with a little gasp, for there was something strangely impressive in the sight of the wreck.
"It's dreadful, isn't it?" she exclaimed.
Then the men who had come with them gathered round.
"Where's the fireman?" one of them asked. "He was too late when he jumped. Have they got him out?"
"Guess not," said another. "See, they're trying to jack up the front of her."
"Aren't you mistaken about the man?" George asked, looking at the first speaker meaningly.
"Why, no," replied the other. "He's certainly pinned down among the wreck. They'll find him before long. Isn't that a jacket sleeve?"
He broke off with an exclamation, as Edgar drove an elbow hard into his ribs; but it was too late. The girl looked around at George, white in face.
"Is there a man beneath the engine? Don't try to put me off."
"I'm afraid it's the case."
"Then why did you bring me?" she cried with a shudder. "Take me away at once!"
George explained that he had forgotten the serious nature of the accident. He hastily helped her up and turned away with her, but when they had gone a little distance she sat down on a boulder.
"I feel badly startled and ashamed," she exclaimed. "I was enjoying it, as a spectacle, and all the time there was a man crushed to death." Then she recovered her composure. "Go back and help. Besides, I think your friend is getting into trouble."
She was right. The man Edgar tried to silence had turned upon him, savage and rather breathless.
"Now," he said, "I'll fix you mighty quick. Think I'm going to have a blamed Percy sticking his elbow into me?"
Edgar glanced at the big and brawny man, with a twinge of somewhat natural uneasiness; but he was not greatly daunted.
"Oh, well," he retorted coolly, "if that's the way you look at it! But if you're not in a desperate hurry, I'll take off my jacket."
"What did you prod him for, anyway?" another asked.
"I'm sorry I didn't jab him twice as hard; though I'd have wasted my energy," Edgar explained. "The fellow has no sense, but that's no reason why he should be allowed to frighten a pretty girl."
His antagonist looked as if a light had suddenly dawned on him.
"Is that why you did it?"
"Of course! Do you think I'd attack a man of nearly twice my weight without some reason?"
The fellow laughed.
"We'll let it go at that. You're all right, Percy. We like you."
"Thanks," said Edgar; "but my name isn't Percy. Couldn't you think of something more stylish for a change?"
They greeted this with hoarse laughter; and George, arriving on the scene, scrambled down into the pit with them to help the men below. It was some time later when he rejoined the girl, who was then gathering berries in the wood. She saw that his face and hands were grimy and his clothes were soiled.
"I heard that you found the unfortunate man. It was very sad," she said. "But what have you been doing since?"
"Shoveling a ton or two of gravel. Then I assisted in jacking up one side of the engine."
"Why? Did you enjoy it?"
George laughed; he had, as it happened, experienced a curious pleasure in the work. He was accustomed to the more vigorous sports; but, after all, they led to no tangible results, and in this respect his recent task was different—one, as he thought of it, could see what one had done. He had been endowed with some ability of strictly practical description, though it had so far escaped development.
"Yes," he responded. "I enjoyed it very much."
The girl regarded him with a trace of curiosity.
"Was that because work of the kind is new to you?"
"No," George answered. "It isn't altogether a novelty. I once spent three years in manual labor; and now when I look back at them, I believe I was happy then."
She nodded as if she understood.
"Shall we walk back?" she suggested.
They went on together, and though the sun was now fiercely hot and the distance long, George enjoyed the walk. Once they met a ballast train, with a steam plow mounted at one end of it, and a crowd of men riding on the open cars; but when it had passed there was nothing to break the deep silence of the woods. The dark firs shut in the narrow track except when here and there a winding lake or frothing river filled a sunny opening.
Soon after George and his companion reached the train, the engine came back with a row of freightcars, and during the afternoon the western express pulled out again, and sped furiously through the shadowy bush.
CHAPTER IV
GEORGE MAKES