A RACE WITH TIME
A dreary ride lay before us, for already the afternoon drew toward its
close, and the light drifts were eddying under a bitter wind. The pale sun
was still in the heavens, but a gray dimness crept up from the
grass-land's verge toward it, against which the patches of snow gleamed
lividly. However, I thought little about the cold, for with careless
stupidity I had allowed a swindler to rob my partner, and a succession of
blizzards would not have stopped me then. Heysham, though uninterested,
seemed equally determined, and rode well, so the long miles of grass
rolled behind us. Now a copse of birches flitted past, now a clump of
willows, or the tall reeds of a sloo went down with a great crackling
before us, then there were more swelling levels, for our course was
straight as the crow flies from horizon to horizon, and we turned aside
for no obstacle.
It was dusk when with lowered heads we charged through the scattered
birches of a ravine bluff, and far down in the hollow beneath I caught the
dull gleam of snow-sprinkled ice.
"It's a mean-looking gully," gasped Heysham. "I guess that creek's not
frozen hard, and it's pretty deep. Say, hadn't we better lead our horses?"
and I flung an answer over my shoulder:
"That will just make the difference between catching and missing the
train. I'm going down in the saddle."
"Then of course I'm going too," said Heysham breathlessly. "Your neck is
worth as much as mine is anyway."
For the next few moments I saw nothing at all but the shadowy lines of
birch stems that went reeling past. A branch struck Heysham's horse, and
swerving, it jammed his leg against a tree; then there was a crash as my
own beast, blundering, charged through a thicket where the brittle stems
snapped like pistol-shots, but the salesman was close behind me, and with
a shout of "No bridge for miles. I'll show you the way over," I drove my
horse at the creek.
The quaggy banks were frozen hard now. They were also rough and ploughed
up by the feet of cattle, which had come there to drink before the frost,
and the leap looked horribly dangerous, for I dare not trust the ice; but
the beast got safely off and came down with a great crackling amid thinly
frozen mud and reeds. There was a splash and a flounder behind me, and
then as we staggered forth Heysham came up abreast, with the water
dripping from his horse, and I found breath to exclaim:
"Well done! I never should have thought a city man could bring a horse
down there."
"Thanks!" said Heysham, with more than a suspicion of dryness. "In this
enlightened country one must earn one's bread as one can, but I wasn't
brought up to the drummer's calling. Used to ride with--but that has
nothing to do with you, and I'm hoping you'll strike the railroad on the
shortest possible line. It wouldn't be nice to spend to-night on the
prairie."
There could be no doubt on this point, for when we reached the levels
darkness had closed down and the air was thick with uplifted snow which
smarted our eyes and made breathing difficult, while, for the first time,
I commenced to have misgivings. Heysham had understated the case, for
unless we struck the railroad we might very well freeze to death on the
prairie. I explained this to him, and gave him directions how he could
find a farm by following the creek; but he laughed.
"It's an exciting run," he said, "and even life in Winnipeg grows
monotonous. Lead on, I'm anxious to be in at the finish."
The snow came down in earnest before we had made two more leagues, and,
steering partly by the wind and partly by instinct of direction, I held on
half-choked and blinded, more and more slowly, until, when at last the
case looked hopeless, Heysham shouted, for a telegraph post loomed up.
"You have reached the railroad, anyway," he said. "The only question
is--how far from the station are we?"
We drew rein for a few moments beside the graded track, and shook the snow
from our wrappings as we debated the simple question whose issues were
momentous. The horses were worn out, we were nearly frozen, and the white
flakes whirled more and more thickly about us.
"We can only go and see, and the track at least will guide us," I said at
last. "I don't think the station can be many miles away."
The rest of the journey left but a blurred memory of an almost sightless
struggle through a filmy haze, in which we occasionally lost each other
and touch with the guiding poles, until at last, caked thick with
wind-packed snow, we caught sight of a pale glimmer, and fell solidly, as
it were, out of the saddle in the shelter of the station. Here, however, a
crushing disappointment awaited us.
"Stopping train passed two hours ago," said the station agent. "Won't be
another until the Montreal express comes through. Heard the stock cars
passed Brandon by daylight--they'll be in Winnipeg now."
"You have one move left," said Heysham. "Hire a special! Comes high, of
course, but it's cheaper than losing your cattle. They can't sell before
to-morrow; and you won't be hard on a plundered man, agent? That
locomotive ought to take us through."
"Can't cut schedule prices," was the answer, after I had explained. "I
haven't a single car, but I was saving Number Forty to haul in wheat, and
if she doesn't strike a snow-block, and old Robertson's in the humor,
she'll land you in Winnipeg before daylight to-morrow. It's cutting things
fine, however."
We put our horses in the hotel stable, managed as a special favor to
obtain some food in a basket, and then climbed into the locomotive cab,
where the Ontario mechanic stood rubbing his hands with waste while a
grimy subordinate flung fuel into the roaring furnace.
"She's the best machine for a hard run on this road," he said, as he
clutched the lever with professional pride. "All you have to do is to sit
tight, and I'll bring you in on time."
Then, panting heavily, Number Forty rolled out from the station on to the
lonely waste, and when, as we jolted over the switches, the lights died
out behind, Robertson became intent as he shoved the lever home. For a
moment the big drivers whirred on the snow-greased line, then the
wheel-treads bit the metals, and the plates commenced to tremble beneath
our feet. Staring out through a quivering glass I could see a white haze
rising and falling ahead as the wild gusts came down, driving an icy
coldness through the vibrating cab, while, when these passed, there was
only the glare of the huge head-lamp flickering like a comet down the
straight-ruled track.
Robertson nodded to his fireman, for Heysham had told him the story, and
presently the vibration grew yet sharper. The gaunt telegraph-posts no
longer swept past in endless files, but reeled toward us under the
fan-shaped blaze huddled all together in a fantastic dance, while willow
bluffs leaped up out of the whiteness and vanished again as by magic into
the dim prairie. The snow from above had ceased temporarily. Then a
screaming blast struck the engine, wrapping it about in a dense white
cloud that glittered before the lamp, the glasses rattled, and an
impalpable powder, that seemed to burn the skin, drove in through every
opening. Robertson glanced at his pressure-gauge.
"She's doing her best," he said, "and she'll need to. I guess we'll find
drifts in the hollows, and the snow will come down again presently. It's
only coming up now."
I ought to have known better, but, although a British custom is more
honored in the breach than the observance in Western Canada, I had met men
who could pocket their pride, and, after fumbling in my wallet, I held out
a slip of paper, saying, "She's doing splendidly. I wish you would buy
Mrs. Robertson something with this."
"No, sir!" was the prompt answer. "You can keep your bill. If that fraud
gets in ahead of you you'll probably want it. I get good pay, and I earn
it, and you're not big enough to give presents to me."
A new arrival might have been astonished. I only felt that I had deserved
the rebuke, and was thankful that Aline had slipped the flask and some of
Martin Lorimer's cigars into my pocket, while Robertson smiled broadly as
in defiance of his orders he emptied the silver cup. It was a gift from my
cousin Alice.
"I apologize. Should have remembered it," I said bluntly.
Then we were racing through stiller air again, with the driving cloud
behind; for each of the curious rushes of wind that precedes a prairie
storm keeps to a definite path of its own. Several times, with a roar of
wheels flung back to us, we swept through a sleeping town, where thin
frame houses went rocking past until the tall elevators shut them in, and
again there was only a dim stretch of prairie that rolled up faster and
faster under the front trailing-wheels.
At last, when the lights of Brandon glimmered ahead, Heysham fell over the
fireman as the locomotive jumped to the checking of the brake, and a
colored flicker blinked beside the track. The glare of another head-lamp
beat upon us as we rolled through the station, while amid the clash of
shocking wheat-cars that swept past I caught the warning:
"Look out for the snow-block east of Willow Lake! Freight-train on the
single track; wires not working well!"
"I guess we'll take our chances," said Robertson; and Number Forty panted
louder, hurling red sparks aloft as he rushed her at an up-grade. Still,
his brows contracted when, some time later, he beckoned me, and I saw a
wide lake draw near with silky drifts racing across its black ice. They
also flowed across the track ahead, while beyond it the loom of what might
be a flag station was faintly visible against a driving bank of cloud.
"Snow's coming off the ice," he said. "Hold fast! She may jump a little
when I ram her through."
The pace grew even faster. We were racing down an incline, and now, ice,
station, and prairie alike were blotted out by a blinding whiteness; while
presently I was flung backward off my feet, and would have fallen but that
I clutched a guard-rail. The whole cab rattled, the great locomotive
lurched, and a white smother hurtled under the lamp glare, until once more
the motion grew even, and we could feel the well-braced frame of iron and
steel leap forward beneath us. Engineer Robertson swayed easily to the
oscillation as, with one side of his intent face toward me, he clutched
the throttle lever, until he called hoarsely as his fingers moved along
it. Then, even while the steam roared in blown-down wreaths from the
lifting valve, the lever was straight at wide-open again, and I caught my
breath as I made out another yellow halo with something that moved behind
it in the snow ahead.
"It's the freight pulling out of the siding. I can't hold Number Forty up
before she's over the switches. I guess we've got to race for it," he
said.
The fireman did something, and, with a shower of half-burned cinders from
her funnel and a mad blast of the whistle, Number Forty pounded on.
Heysham's face was paler than before, and the disc of yellow radiance grew
nearer and brighter. A faint flash appeared below it, a deeper whistle
reached us brokenly, and I remembered two hoarse voices.
"They're opening the switches! That's come on," one of them said. "Trying
to check the freighter! There'll be an almighty smash if they don't!"
The other was apparently Heysham's: "And two rascally confidence men will
be skipping for the border with the proceeds of what should have been Ross
& Grant's cattle."
I said nothing. It did not seem that talking would do any good, and the
engineer might not have welcomed my advice. The great light was very
close. I could see the cars behind it and hear the grind of brakes, while
a man was bent double over a lever where the blaze of our head-lamp ran
along the ground. The engine rocked beneath us; there was a heavy lurch as
the fore-wheels struck the points; then Robertson laughed exultantly and
wiped his greasy face. In front lay only the open prairie and flying snow,
while the black shape of the freight-train grew indistinct behind.
"It was a pretty close call. Snow blurred the lights, and I guess the gale
has broken a wire," he said. "Them folks never expected us, but they were
smart with the switches. I'll say that for them."
"Good man!" said Heysham. "She's a grand machine. Next to riding home
first in a steeplechase I'd like to have the running of a lightning
express. Used to do the former once, but now Fate she says to me, 'You
stop right there in Winnipeg, and sell other men's cattle for the best
price you can.' Lorimer, I think Number Forty has saved that stock for
you."
Then, shivering as the blasts struck the cab, we crouched, alternately
frozen and roasted, in the most sheltered corner we could find, while,
feeling the pulse of the great quivering machine with a grimy hand,
Robertson hurled his engine along past Carberry and the slumbering
Portage, until at last, just before the dawn, sheeted white from head-lamp
to tank-rail and dripping below, she came pounding into Winnipeg.
"We'll let that slide. I don't like a fuss," said Robertson, when I
thanked him. "Glad to do our best for you, Forty and me; and I guess the
Company haven't another machine short of the inter-ocean racers that would
have brought you in the time."
Then we interviewed the freight-traffic manager.
"That stock consignment came in hours ago," he informed us. "We haven't
unloaded them yet. Anyway, you'll have to hurry and see the police, for
we're bound to deliver against shipping bill. Don't know how you would
square things after that; and it's not my business. Still, I'll have those
cars side-tracked where they can't be got at readily."
Next we sought the police, and, after driving half across the city,
obtained audience with a magistrate, the result of which was that a
detective accompanied us to the station, and then round the hotels,
inquiring for the conspirators under several different names. None of
them, however, appeared on any hotel register, until we called at a
certain well-known hostelry, where our companion was recognized by the
clerk.
"Yes, I guess we've got the men you want," he said, with unusual civility
for a Western hotel clerk. "Just stood some big stock-buyers a high-class
breakfast, and you'll find them upstairs. Say, if you want assistance send
right down for me."
"We'll probably fix them without you," was the smiling answer. "Only two
doors to the place, haven't you? I'll leave this man here with you,
sending two more to the other one. Walk straight in, Mr. Lorimer, and see
the end of the play."
We entered the bustling coffee-room, where, at the detective's suggestion,
I ordered refreshment, and he placed us at a table behind two pillars.
Heysham ate and chatted in high spirits; but, though hungry enough, I
could scarcely eat at all, and sat still in irresolute impatience for what
seemed an interminable time. I could not get Minnie's worn face out of my
memory; and, though her husband's incarceration would probably be a boon
to her, I knew she would not think so. Besides, this deliberate trapping
of a man I had met on terms of friendship, even after what had happened,
was repugnant; and the cattle were safe. There was, however, nothing to do
but wait; for, alert and watchful, the representative of the law--who,
nevertheless, made an excellent breakfast--kept his eyes fixed on the
door, until I would have risen, but that he restrained me, as, followed by
several others, Fletcher and a little dark man, besides the one who had
cajoled the stock from me, came in.
"Stock-buyers!" whispered the detective, thrusting me further back. "Go
slow. In the interests of justice, I want to see just what they're going
to do."
The newcomers seated themselves not far from the other side of the
pillar, and I waited feverishly, catching snatches of somewhat vivid
general chatter, until one of the party said more loudly: "Now let us come
down to business. I've seen the beasts--had to crawl over the cars to do
it--and they're mostly trash, though there are some that would suit me,
marked hoop L. & J. Say, come down two dollars a head all around, and I'll
give you a demand draft on the bank below for the lot."
What followed I did not hear, but by-and-by a voice broke through the
confused murmuring: "It's a deal!" An individual scribbling in his
pocket-book moved toward a writing table. Then the detective stepped
forward, beckoning to me.
"Sorry to spoil trade, but I've saved your check, gentlemen," he said.
"That stock's stolen. Thomas Gorst and other names, Will Stephens, and
Thomas Fletcher, would you like to glance at this warrant? No! well, it's
no use looking ugly, there are men at either door waiting for you. This is
a new trick, Stephens, and you haven't played it neatly."
"Euchred!" gasped the little man, while the other scowled at me.
"Confusion to you! In another hour I'd have been rustling for the Great
Republic. Still, I guess the game's up. Don't be a mule, Fletcher; I'm
going quietly."
He held out his hands with a resigned air, but when, amid exclamations of
wonder, another officer appeared mysteriously from somewhere to slip on
the handcuffs, Fletcher hurled a decanter into his face and sprang wildly
for the door. He passed within a yard of where I stood. I could have
stopped him readily with an outstretched foot or hand, but I did neither,
and there was an uproar as he plunged down the stairway with an officer
close behind him. The detective saw his other prisoners handcuffed before
he followed, and though he said nothing he gazed at me reproachfully.
When we stood at the head of the stairs he chuckled as he pointed below.
"Your friend hasn't got very far," he said dryly.
It was true enough, for in the hall a stalwart constable sat on the chest
of a fallen man who apparently strove to bite him, and I saw that the
latter was Thomas Fletcher. I had clearly been guilty of a dereliction of
the honest citizen's duty, but for all that I did not like the manner in
which he said, "Your friend."
We returned to the station, and later in the day I entertained Robertson
and Heysham with the best luncheon I could procure, when for once we drank
success to Number Forty in choice vintages.
"I can't sufficiently thank you, Heysham," I said when we shook hands.
"Now, advise me about those cattle; and is there anything I can do for
you?"
"Enjoyed the fun," was the answer, "and you gave me a free passage to
Winnipeg. I didn't do it for that reason, but if you like to leave the
disposal of those beasts to Ross & Grant, highest-class salesmen,
promptest settlements, etc., I shall be pleased to trade with you. Sorry
to intrude business, but after all I'm a drummer, and one must earn one's
bread and butter--see?"
I had much pleasure in agreeing, and Ross & Grant sold those beasts to my
complete satisfaction and Jasper's as well, while that was but the
beginning of a profitable connection with them, and an acquaintance with
Heysham, who was from the first a friend of Aline's and is now sole
partner in the firm. Still, though I returned to Fairmead with the
proceeds, satisfied, it transpired that Thomas Fletcher was not yet past
doing me a further injury.