“You miss life by waitin’ for it, Rupe. You’ve got to take, an’ never
wait. I took me leave anyhow, and went east to see the old place again.
I was a sort of fool, ’cause I reckoned to find things same as I minded
’em, and Maimie a little bit of a gal, wi’ a way of lookin’ at me
sideways. I came in on the Grand Trunk, and I got out at the depôt, and
stood lonesome, and peeked around, jest as awkward as a fly in a glass
of beer. You see, I’d known everyone in St. Catherine’s my time. I said
to a feller, ‘What’s the name of this place, anyhow?’ and he said,
‘St. Catherine’s, stranger,’ and that took the wind outer me. ’Twas an
almighty big town, an’ I’d left a village; an’ the valley was choked
wi’ buildings, like summer fallow wi’ Russian thistle, an’ there wasn’t
any folks to mind Andy MacCaskill. There wasn’t a face to gimme a
smile, Rupe. Not an ole pard to call out, ‘Seems like ole times havin’
you around again.’ That’s what my goin’ home was.”
“And what about the girl?” I said.
“Never heard tell of her,” answered the factor morosely.
His mood changed in a moment, and we sprang together from our
shake-downs. Above the beating of the rain and the wind, above the
shouts of the drinkers below, came the noise of a nearer scuffle,
with the brutal laugh of coarse men, the tread of heavy boots, and a
feminine voice, half pleading, half in anger. There were no women in
Gull!
The passage was gloomy, because evening was closing, and there was
only one window to give light, but I had no need to look twice to see
a girl, her head and fine hair half-wrapped in a dripping shawl, and
this girl struggling in the hands of a half-drunk crowd of lumbermen,
shouting their rough jests and brutal suggestions. A beautiful girl in
the camp of Gull!
I knew her before I could see her face, and when I did see her
rain-marked features, they were more beautiful than ever. She was my
faithful maid, my Akshelah!
She put out an arm, the other was held, and called to me:
“I have followed; I have followed, and it has been hard!”
The factor’s story of his life was hot upon my ears, and I heard him
saying, “You’ve got to take, and never wait.”
I acted upon this precept. I scattered that rough gang, and sent the
men reeling back each way. I rescued Akshelah, swung her lithe figure
into our room, where MacCaskill stood bewildered, and stood in the
doorway, my arms out, holding at defiance the lumber station of Gull.