A KING'S DAUGHTER IN A FREIGHT CAR.
When Randolph and his party came rushing with shouts of laughter from
the woods, they were joined by Tom, who was in an unusually meek mood.
Fred looked at him suspiciously, but forbore to ask any questions.
The rain was coming down smartly, and all hands gathered, panting and
laughing, around the generous fire in the little hotel office. "Where's
Bessie?" asked Mr. Percival, as soon as he could make his voice heard
above the merry clamor.
"Oh! she's just behind, with Mr. Selborne," said Kittie. "Randolph,
look out of the door to see if they are in sight."
"They'll get dreadfully wet," remarked Pet. "Why didn't they keep up?"
"Oh! Bess wanted to go up the glacier a little farther. I saw her
pointing to a big rock"--
"And of course he went," added Fred demurely.
Mr. Percival looked worried. His nephew reported that the missing
couple were not in sight.
"It's growing darker every moment," he remarked anxiously. "I must go
and look for them."
Two strong young fellows who were employed about the hotel went with
him. Leaving the jolly group around the fire, we will accompany the
relief party. Those who prefer cosiness and warmth may stay behind!
The contrast was sharp, indeed, as Mr. Percival stepped out-of-doors
with his two companions.
The sky was filled with black clouds, that rolled down the valley or
hung in threatening masses along the lofty mountain slopes.
As they entered the forest they had to step carefully, lest they should
stumble on some root or stone, half-hidden in the darkness. Through the
boughs of the trees the rain dripped drearily.
They plodded on for over a mile, when they caught sight of a flickering
light, appearing and vanishing, like a will-o'-the-wisp.
The two men from the hotel did not know what to make of it, but Mr.
Percival guessed the source of the strange flame in a moment.
"They've built a fire," he said quietly. "Or, at least, Bess has. I
don't believe the minister could do it, this wet night, if he tried!"
He could, though, as Captain Bess soon found out, when he had stopped
to rest in the edge of the forest. About fifty feet from the path was a
huge bowlder draped with ferns, with the top slightly overhanging its
base.
To the shelter of this great rock the young clergyman had borne his
charge, placing her on a dry cushion of moss and fir needles, where the
faintness soon left her, though the pain did not. He had then busied
himself in a wonderfully handy way, collecting dry stuff from beneath
the bowlder, and in five minutes had a glorious fire snapping and
crackling, right in the midst of the rain.
"That will be a comfort to us," he remarked, eying the blaze with great
satisfaction, "and will signal the party they are sure to send out for
us."
"O, yes!" cried Bess. And then, of course, she had to tell him, often
pausing as the sharp twinges of pain shot more and more fiercely
through her ankle, all about the lost party in Maine, and the exploit
which had earned for her the title of Captain.
She had hardly finished her story when a shout was heard, and presently
the relief party came hurrying into the firelit space.
"What is it, dear? Are you hurt?" asked Mr. Percival, hastily kneeling
down beside his daughter and throwing his arms around her. He had not
realized until that moment how deeply anxious he had been during that
dismal walk.
"Only a little, father. It's just my ankle. I turned it on the rocks."
"How did you get here?"
"Mr. Selborne--carried me."
Her father turned and clasped the young man's hand, saying simply, "I
thank you." But each of the men knew the already strong friendship
between them was deepened.
"Now for getting home," called out Rossiter. "Too bad to leave the
fire, though, isn't it?"
"You can spend the night here if you like," laughed Bess, rising
painfully and clinging to her father's arm.
It was clear that she could not walk a step.
The fire was cared for; then the two sturdy young backwoodsmen made
an arm-chair with their hands and wrists, and tramped off with Bess
between them as easily as if she were a kitten.
Very slowly though, and with great skill and care, feeling the ground
carefully with their feet at every step. So they made their way back to
the hotel, where there was a general jubilee over their return.
The train was side-tracked that night, close by the station. It was
great fun for the young people to climb aboard, and, after a good-night
sing, clamber into their berths to be lulled to sleep, not by the
rumble of iron wheels, but the rushing waters of the Illicilliwaet.
Bessie, it should be said, was carried to the cars by her father. There
was a physician in the party, and by his advice the strained ankle
received such wise and timely treatment that by bed-time it was far
less painful. In two or three days, the doctor said, she could use it
again, though care would be necessary for a fortnight or more.
On the following morning the rain was still falling, but by ten
o'clock the sky brightened a little, and the Percivals, with the
exception of Bess, set out for a walk down the track. There was a long
snow shed not far away, from which Tom hoped to get a good operating
field for his kodak.
Hardly had they clambered to the top of the structure and "pressed the
button" once, when a flying gust of rain, backed by a portentous black
cloud, sent them flying down again.
"Let's come in under the shed," proposed Tom. This, however, was so
cold and damp, that Fred and Randolph, seeing some detached freight
cars, a few rods up the track, started off to explore for a better
shelter.
A minute or two later they were beckoning and shouting to the rest of
the party.
"Run for it!" they called out. "Plenty of room here for all hands!"
Pet distanced the other girls, and was mounting a short flight of steps
to the end of the nearest freight car, when what was her surprise to be
met at the door by a fresh-faced, modest-looking young woman.
"Come in," she said simply. "I hope you haven't got wet," and led the
way to the interior of the car.
"It's like a fairy story," whispered Pet to Kittie, as the latter
scrambled up the steps. "Is she a princess in disguise?"
"Only so far as she is a true 'King's Daughter' in her hospitality,"
said Mr. Percival, catching Pet's question, and replying in the same
tone.
In trooped the excursionists, a dozen or more of them, all looking
about them in amazement.
The car was divided into two compartments: one small one for
a sleeping-room, the larger--in which the strangers were
received--serving as kitchen and "living room." A fire snapped and
purred comfortably in the stove; before the tiny windows (against which
the rain was now dashing in good earnest) were draped red curtains, and
on the sill were pots of geranium and ivy.
Cheerful prints hung upon the walls, and altogether the old freight
car, settled down at last after its many wanderings, was as cosey a
home as heart could desire.
The bright little hostess proudly exhibited a photograph of her
husband, a manly-looking fellow, and one or two other views which
comprised her art treasures. Her modest and quiet demeanor would have
done credit to a high-bred lady, and none of the Percivals, I think,
will soon forget their hearty welcome, or the warm good-by with which
she sped her parting guests.
Before leaving, it should be added, Randolph made the rounds of the
car, and left a substantial remembrance in the hands of this far away
"King's Daughter." But the train was ready, and the old locomotive in a
flurried way calling her brood of one hundred chickens together.
Away went the cars once more, curving around the mountain spurs,
crossing torrents, clinging to the rugged slopes of granite; now
descending to the level of the Columbia, now climbing again to Eagle
Pass, ever westward toward the Pacific.
That night, it should be mentioned, they passed through Kamloops, not
a remarkable town in itself, but ever memorable from the fact that it
gave its name to the car in which the Percivals crossed the Continent.
A great celebration had been planned for the occasion; but as everybody
was asleep at the time (about two in the morning), it didn't come off.
The titles of all the cars had by this time become very familiar,
and the girls spoke of calling on a friend in the "Missanabie," or
stepping back to the "Nepigon," as they would mention Newbury Street or
Louisburg Square.
One morning they found themselves rolling along the high bank of the
Fraser River, famous in the history of the gold fever of 1849; its
muddy waters, laden with the wealth of empires, rushing past the train
toward the ocean. On the shore Chinamen and Indians could be seen,
dredging for gold, or fishing for salmon.
On the further side of the river ran the old Government wagon road,
curiously built and buttressed with logs in many places, leading to the
Cariboo gold country.
At Yale--an outfitting point for runners and ranchmen--there was a stop
to water the engine. Children crowded up to the cars with small baskets
of berries and nosegays.
Randolph brought in to Bessie--who was patiently bearing her
lameness--a bunch of exquisite white pansies, a strange product for
this wild, half-civilized country.
It was high noon when the conductor opened the door of the car and
shouted:
"Vancouver! Vancouver!"