LOST LAKE
A light wind moved the poplar branches and sparkling ripples rolled
across Lost Lake. Along the margin the cracked mud was white with
salt; the leaves in the bluff were going yellow and cut the turquoise
sky. In the distance belts of stubble reflected the sunshine and
withered grass rolled back to the horizon. The lake was perhaps not
beautiful, but Kit acknowledged the spacious landscape’s tranquil
charm.
At one time Lost Lake was a landmark for the Hudson Bay _courreurs_
steering south behind their dog-teams for the Assiniboine. Now a wagon
trail went by the bluff, and, some distance off, railroad telegraph
posts melted in the grass. The _courreurs_ were long since gone, and
on summer holidays picnic parties from two prairie towns arrived on
board noisy automobiles.
Alison occupied a birch log under the trees; Kit lay in the grass and
smoked. A hundred yards off Austin was engaged at the car. It looked
as if he were annoyed and Mrs. Austin soothed him.
“Carrie’s proper plan is to leave Bob alone,” said Kit. “If she stops
much longer I expect he will break something. When you’re up against
an obstinate engine to talk politely is hard.”
“Perhaps one ought to use some control,” Alison remarked. “But you are
an engineer. Cannot you help?”
“I doubt,” said Kit. “The makers claim a flivver’s foolproof, and my
clothes are rather good. Then until Bob’s satisfied he won’t stop. The
engine ought not to knock, and he’s resolved to see it does not. Since
the car is not his, I don’t think he’s reasonable.”
“Your argument is rather labored. You feel you must justify your
selfishness?”
“Sometimes selfishness is justified, and I expect Miss Grey will soon
arrive. It looks as if she thought I ought not to talk to you unless
she’s about. Well, I want to talk to you; I don’t want to dispute with
your friend.”
Alison smiled. “Florence is a useful friend, and she does not really
dislike you. She rather doubts all she thinks you stand for.”
“Since she’s aggressively democratic and I stand for small pay and
strenuous labor, I don’t see much light.”
“Florence is keen,” said Alison and gave Kit a thoughtful glance. “She
thinks you the English college and country house type: for example,
the Netherhall type.”
“Sometimes I did stop at Netherhall for a holiday, but it was not my
home. My father was not rich, and my poverty’s obvious. Why does Miss
Grey hate the Netherhall type?”
“I don’t altogether know, Kit, but I feel she has good grounds—— Well,
I oughtn’t to speculate about it, and I owe her much. She got me my
post at the creamery, and, in order to be with me, she stops at the
boarding-house. We have one room, the dining-room, for fourteen
people; you cannot be alone, and sometimes you get tired of the
crowd.”
“A crowd is tiresome,” Kit agreed in a sympathetic voice. “In Canada
one is never alone. The Canadians are a co-operative, gregarious lot;
anyhow they go about in flocks. If Miss Grey went to another house, I
expect she would not get much space and quiet.”
“The grocery is large. Jason is old and his wife gets infirm. They are
kind people and want Florence to live with them; but, for my sake, she
comes to the boarding-house as soon as the store is shut.”
“Ah,” said Kit, “I begin to like Miss Grey; but if she had waited a
little longer I would not have grumbled——”
He indicated a large red motorcycle. A tall thin young man leaned over
the handles and his glance was fixed in front; Miss Grey was on the
carrier, and her clothes blew in the wind. The machine lurched and
jolted, the engine fired explosively, and the blue exhaust stained the
tossing dust. Kit, studying the broken trail, understood the driver’s
concentration. At the edge of the bluff Miss Grey jumped down and the
other stopped the motorcycle.
“She made it!” he shouted in a triumphant voice. “The sand belt was
fierce, but we went through like a snow-plow.”
“We came off twice,” Miss Grey remarked, and beat her dusty clothes.
Then she called her companion, and Kit was presented to Mr. Ted
Harries. Harries was tall and carried himself awkwardly. His bony
wrists and ankles were conspicuous, as if his clothes had been made
for a standard figure. Miss Grey stated that he was a grain storage
company’s clerk, and he gave Kit a friendly grin.
“You’re the fellow who put the railroad man off the bridge? I’m surely
pleased to meet you. If you’ll put my boss off the elevator, I’ll loan
you my wheel.”
“I mightn’t be as lucky another time. To know where to stop is
useful,” Kit remarked.
“See you again,” said Harries and seized Miss Grey. “Bob Austin’s up
against it, and maybe I can help him out. Come on, Florence! Alison
has no use for you!”
Kit laughed. “I think I like Ted! Florence is gone, but I imagine she
means to come back, and you have not yet told me much about Fairmead.
For example, where did you meet Mrs. Austin?”
“She was at the grocery when I went for Florence one evening, and she
knew me. She and Bob had come from the train and were bothered because
their house was not ready. In an hour Florence put all straight. At
the settlement she’s important.”
“It’s rather plain. When Harries firmly led her off I thought his
nerve was good. But perhaps Miss Grey approves his type?”
Alison smiled. “I think Ted attracts Florence because he’s a contrast
from another she knew in England; but you inquired about the Austins.
Carrie’s charming, and to go to her house is like going home. Then
she’s cultivated; I think her father was a lecturer at Toronto
University, but she’s happy to keep her husband’s house, and although
they must be frugal she does not grumble. I expect you know Austin’s
pay is not large. Perhaps it’s strange, but I think people who are
poor are kindest.”
“Bob’s a first-class sort and to know his wife’s your friend is some
relief. But do you like your job at the creamery?”
“I’m satisfied. I was not as rich before, and so long as I carry out
my orders nobody bothers me. I don’t know about the winter, but if I’m
not wanted, Florence thinks she can get me another post.”
“Well, I like to know you’re content. For a time I was rather
disturbed about you.”
“Yet you did not inquire,” Alison remarked in a quiet voice.
“That is so,” Kit admitted with some embarrassment. “All the same——”
He stopped, for Alison gave him a queer smile.
“You thought you ought not? Well, a good friend is worth much, and I’d
sooner not think you were altogether willing to let me go. But Austin
has put the engine straight, and Carrie wants help to serve our
lunch.”
She joined Mrs. Austin, but Kit stopped and pondered. His emotions
were rather mixed, but he was glad Alison had not wanted him to let
her go. Now he thought about it, it was all she had really told him.
Alison did not try to move one; one liked her for her friendly calm.
Lunch was a cheerful and rather noisy function, for Florence and
Harries disputed and sometimes she entangled Kit in humorous argument.
When the meal was over and the others went off he helped Mrs. Austin
clean the plates. He knew she wanted him to stop, and after they
re-packed the basket he brought her a rug and sat in the grass. The
wind dropped and the calm lake shone. The afternoon was hot, but the
shadow of the bluff crept across the spot.
Mrs. Austin was young, but Kit, studying her, got a sense of maturity;
he knew her thoughtful and sincere. Although she was obviously
cultivated, she was somehow franker than the Englishwomen he had
known. She told him to smoke and he lighted a cigarette. He felt she
waited for him to talk, and although she did not indicate the line she
wanted him to take, he thought he knew.
“Until Bob told me Miss Forsyth was at the creamery and came to your
house I was anxious for her,” he said. “Now I know she has good
friends, I want to thank you, ma’am.”
“We thought you philosophical,” Mrs. Austin remarked, and gave him a
steady glance.
Kit hesitated, and then took a photograph from his wallet.
“The ground’s awkward; but perhaps the portrait makes things plainer.”
Mrs. Austin studied the picture. The girl was beautiful and somehow
thoroughbred. To contrast her and Alison was perhaps ridiculous. For
one thing, Alison was not beautiful; yet she had a charm the other had
not.
“I think I see! You are going to marry the English girl?”
“If I make good—Alison knows,” Kit replied. “I feel I must make good.
When others doubted and all was dark, Evelyn trusted me. I expect you
know why I lost my English post?”
Mrs. Austin gave him back the portrait and her look was kind.
“Yes. Bob thinks you did not tell him all, and the shipyard chief did
not spot the proper man.”
“I felt I ought to satisfy you,” said Kit with an apologetic smile.
“You have helped Alison and I owe Bob much. In fact, now I think about
it, when we met you at Winnipeg our luck began to turn. Well, I
suppose you imagined—I don’t know about Alison, but I was
embarrassed.”
“In some circumstances a girl is less embarrassed than a man. I rather
think Alison saw why we tried to encourage you.”
Kit said nothing, and Mrs. Austin resumed: “Well, I admit I was
romantically sympathetic. I had not long before promised to marry
Bob.”
“Then I suppose Bob was at Toronto? Toronto’s your home town?”
“Bob was at the University; I talked to him for ten minutes at a
college function. Afterwards I did not see him until I visited
relations at Winnipeg, three weeks before we met you at the station
waiting-room.”
For a few moments Kit mused. Mrs. Austin was frank, and he wondered
whether she meant to indicate that she was his friend.
“Ah,” he said, “I suppose one knows——”
Mrs. Austin smiled, but he thought the look she gave him queer.
“One knows the real thing.”
Kit wondered. For long he had hoped to marry Evelyn, if he got rich;
but until he must start for Canada she had not moved him to keen
romantic passion. All the same, one did not talk about things like
that, and he must not bore Mrs. Austin.
“Fairmead’s an attractive spot; but after Toronto I expect it’s
sometimes dreary,” he said. “The advantage is, Bob can get home from
the bridge.”
“The advantage is important; but I doubt if we will stay for long.
Bob’s ambitious and has talent. Besides, the bridge will presently be
built.”
“It will not be built before the river freezes and much of the work
must stop; but I understand, as far as possible, the engineers will
carry on.”
“Are you anxious about your post?”
Kit was rather anxious, but he laughed. “I hope Wheeler may have some
use for me, but if he has not, I can take the road and play the
fiddle. You, however, have got a pretty house, and if the company sent
Bob back to the workshops you would be forced to quit.”
“Bob believes Wheeler has some use for you. If he went to the
workshops for the winter, I would be resigned. The trouble is, he
thinks to help finish the bridge would lead to his promotion, and he’s
very keen. Sometimes I cannot persuade him I’m satisfied with a little
house and cheap furniture.”
“Your husband’s a first-class engineer and ought to go ahead.”
“For all that, he carries an awkward load. His pluck is fine, but he
was very ill in France, and he cannot stand for much wet and cold. On
the plains in winter the cold is fierce.”
Kit pictured Austin’s shivering by the stove, and thought Mrs.
Austin’s doubts justified; but since he did not know if Bob had talked
about it, he must not.
“After all, our job at the bridge is softer than the workmen’s, and if
Bob is cautious——”
“It looks as if you did not know Bob; but I think you are his friend,
and perhaps you can induce him not to be rash. Then you can see he
puts on dry clothes and gets proper food. You can keep the stove
going, and so forth——”
Kit imagined it was not all Mrs. Austin wanted. The important thing
was, she acknowledged him her husband’s friend.
“Where it’s possible for me to help I promise to do so,” he said and
Mrs. Austin got up.
“Thank you, Kit. Let’s join the others.”
Two or three hours afterwards they boiled a kettle and brewed tea. The
shadows were longer and half the lake was dark, but the sunshine was
on the plain. In the distance gray smoke stained the sky, and going
black, advanced across the grass. Then metal began to sparkle, and one
saw a locomotive, rolling dust and a row of cars. The train dominated
the landscape, and Kit thought it half a mile long.
“The new wheat is going East,” said Mrs. Austin. “Two thousand tons, I
reckon, and to haul a load like that is some exploit. Well, I own when
I see the big wheat trains I get a thrill. Before the railroad crossed
the plains Manitoba was the halfbreeds’ furs preserve, and when I was
a girl and visited at Winnipeg the mills could hardly use the broken
farmers’ frost-nipped grain. Now the farmers are getting rich, and
Manitoba flour goes across the world. Well, my husband’s a railroad
builder, and I suppose I mustn’t boast.”
“After all, the farmers grow the wheat,” Austin remarked and pulled
out his watch. “Kit and I must be at the bridge in the morning, and we
ought to shove off.”
Harries went for his motorcycle, Florence jumped up, and the big
machine rolled noisily away. When the rocking figures vanished behind
the bluff Austin laughed and steered his car into the trail.
“Florence’s nerve is pretty good, but if Ted drives like that in the
sand belt, something’s coming to her.”
The car started, and Kit, sitting at the back with Alison, was sorry
to go. After the turmoil at the bridge, to loaf about the quiet wood
and talk to Alison was soothing. Now his holiday was almost gone, he
felt melancholy, but they were not yet at Fairmead and he began to
joke.
The trail was torn by wheels and long grass grew between the ruts. The
car rocked and the wheels skidded, but until the track pierced the
sand belt they made progress. At an awkward corner Austin stopped, and
Kit saw the motorcycle a few yards in front. Harries had pulled off
his coat and knelt by the machine. His face was red and his hands were
smeared by sooty oil.
Miss Grey sat in the sand. Her eyes sparkled, and dark spots on her
clothes indicated engine grease.
“She jumped the track and fired us,” Harries shouted. “Something’s
broke and I guess I’m beat. You’re engineers. Come on and help!”
Austin pulled out his watch. “Sorry, Ted, but unless we’re at the
bridge in the morning the chief will make trouble. Can I loan you some
tools?”
“I’d like a big hammer,” said Harries meaningly. “Anyhow, be a sport
and take Florence along. She reckons she can show me, but she doesn’t
know the first thing about a wheel.”
“I know all Ted knows,” Florence rejoined. “If he’d let me help, the
engine would start, but he gets mad and throws things about. A man
ought to be calm.”
“Well, I won’t give Ted the hammer, but you had better get on board.
You see, our train won’t wait.”
“Then, start your car. I’m not going!”
“I sure like Florence, but she’s blamed obstinate,” Harries remarked.
“Jump up, Florence,” said Alison. “You can’t help and you embarrass
Ted.”
“Ted ought to be embarrassed,” Florence rejoined. “He bothered me to
go to the lake, and if he’s forced to wheel me he’s got to take me
home.”
Austin started the car and smiled.
“Florence is a sport. All she really wants is to see Ted out. If they
don’t arrive soon, you must send the garage boys along for them,
Carrie.”
Although the trail was uneven, he drove faster. The red sunset melted
and the plain got blue and dim. Elevator towers began to cut the sky
and silver beams from locomotive lamps pierced the gloom. After a
time, the lights got dazzling and bells tolled. One saw rows of houses
and dark wheat cars. The automobile bumped across the rail, and Kit’s
holiday was over.