ALISON STEALS AWAY
Kit, in Austin’s office at the bridge, heard escaping steam and a
locomotive pump’s monotonous throb. When the train stopped, somebody
pushed him from the cab, and although he had wanted to wait and see it
start, firmly steered him to the office. The painful reaction from the
cold was over, but he was dull and slack and could not rouse himself
for the effort to go back to the line. By and by Florence Grey came
in.
“We are going in two or three minutes and I cannot wait, but I hope
you are not frost-bitten,” she said.
“I’m not much damaged, thank you,” Kit replied. “Anyhow, I’d sooner
you looked after Alison and you mustn’t miss the train.”
“Carrie and Ted are with her, and Bob will call me. There’s something
I must tell you: Alison ought not to have gone to the gravel pit.”
“It’s rather obvious,” said Kit. “I don’t yet see why you and Ted left
her at the bridge.”
Florence’s look got embarrassed and she blushed. “Since my plan didn’t
work, perhaps you ought to know.... Well, I didn’t want Alison to meet
you, and when the train was starting I sent Ted to the smithy,
although I knew she wasn’t there.”
“Ah,” said Kit, “now I do see! You hadn’t heard the gravel train was
going, and you thought in a few days Alison would be on board the
steamer. Well if she had got frozen I’d have hated you.... However,
since I’d have frozen by morning, you would not have had much grounds
to be afraid of me. You plotted better than you thought!”
“I have got my punishment,” said Florence in a quiet voice. “Alison is
my chum and perhaps suspense is as hard to bear as cold. Then she
doesn’t suspect my shabby trick and I dare not tell her. For all that,
my object was good.”
“Your nerve is pretty good,” Kit rejoined. “I’ll soon be all right and
I’m not revengeful, but Alison ran an awkward risk, and that’s another
thing. Besides, I can’t imagine why you were determined I shouldn’t
meet her.”
For a few moments Florence was quiet and her face was red. Somehow
Kit’s anger vanished. From the beginning she had doubted him, but when
she claimed to be Alison’s chum she did not boast.
“Very well,” she said, “you are not the man for Alison. You belong to
another lot, but you have some charm and she’s romantic. At all events
you interested her and she thought about you. I don’t claim you
consciously worked upon her, but it’s possible, and when she was
called to England I was glad. The drawback was she was resolved to see
you before she went. We are flesh and blood, and I thought when you
knew she might not come back you might try to carry her away. Did you,
Kit?”
Kit looked up. His mouth was tight and he knitted his brows.
“Yes,” he said. “We were freezing and I took Alison in my arms and
kissed her. Well, I admit your not trusting me was justified. Alison
knows I love her, but I ought to marry a girl in England.”
“You must take one of two lines: ask Alison to marry you, or tell her
frankly why you cannot.”
“That is so. As soon as a train goes down the line I’ll start for
Fairmead; there’s no use in my going to Harper’s now, because Alison
mustn’t be bothered yet. I hope you don’t feel you ought to hate me?”
“One cannot hate you, Kit. I’m sorry for you—” Florence replied, and
Austin opened the door.
“Come on!” he said. “The engineer won’t wait.” He pushed Florence out,
and coming back a few moments afterwards, sat down opposite Kit.
“Did Florence state why she sent Ted to the smithy? My notion is she
didn’t want Alison to get the train.”
“It’s possible, but we won’t bother about it,” Kit replied. “How did
you get the locomotive?”
Austin smiled. “You’re not going to put me wise? Well, when we made
the bridge, all Carrie could tell me was you had gone to look for
Alison. The snow was fierce and when I found out Alison was at the
gravel pit and you had started up the line, the train had left
Harper’s. I was scared, Kit, but Florence was _desperate_. She
declared, if our feet were cold we could stop by the stove; she would
shove off for the gravel pit.”
“Miss Grey is obstinate,” Kit remarked with a twinkle. “You wouldn’t
stop for cold feet, Bob, and I daresay you knew mine were colder. But
go ahead!”
“We put a trolley on the rails. I hustled Florence into the office and
told Carrie to stand against the door. We crossed the bridge and soon
afterwards hit an Awkward drift. When the trolley jumped the rails we
tried to carry her across. The snow was dry and loose and we went in
to the waist; the wind lashed the stuff about us, and we must lift the
heavy car. I doubted if we could make it, but the boys were willing.
They meant to get you.”
Kit nodded. “I can picture the fight, but when you’re up against a
blizzard pluck and muscle won’t carry you very far. Well?”
“By and by my foreman came along. They’d got a phone call from
Harper’s; the train had run into a big drift a few miles east, and the
engineer steamed back to the settlement. In the meantime, the Winnipeg
bosses had wired the operator to hold all traffic until the plows
arrived. He had got my message and he sent the loco to the bridge. We
butted her through the drift that stopped the trolley, and made the
shack. Carrie and the others are at the Harper’s hotel——”
The cook carried in some hot food, and soon after Kit got supper he
went to bed.
In the morning the gale had dropped and the thermometer rose, but Kit
was forced to wait until the track was cleared. After some hours a big
rotary plow and a freight locomotive arrived from the east, and
hurling back waves of snow, rolled across the bridge. When the smoke
melted in the plain Kit got a hand-car and two men and set off. The
plow had cleared the rails and the car made good progress, but Kit
brooded moodily.
He recaptured his walking from Harper’s to the bridge when he first
arrived. Flowers dotted the prairie, the sun was hot, and although he
knew himself a stranger, his hopes were high. The trail, like a dark
riband, curved in front and he steered joyously for the horizon.
Now the sky was dark, the day was bleak, and he did not know where he
went. He ought to marry Evelyn, but he loved Alison. Moreover, Alison
knew he loved her and since she knew about Evelyn she had cause to
think him a philandering wastrel. Anyhow, if Alison did not, Evelyn
was entitled to do so.
Well, he must take one of two lines, and he frankly hesitated. For him
to pay for his folly was just, but it looked as if another must pay.
Evelyn’s letters were cold and carried a hint of resentment. If she
knew he had gone to the workshops sooner than take his friend’s post,
she would be annoyed; Alison knew and approved. Yet although he wanted
Alison, his duty was to marry Evelyn. In the meantime he must see
Alison; it was all he really knew.
At length the roofs at Harper’s broke the snowy plain, and Kit saw
freight-cars on the side-track. The locomotive faced west and he knew
the rail train had gone, but he hoped Mrs. Austin would wait for the
passenger-cars and her party was yet at the hotel. When he inquired at
the office the landlord said they had started east soon after the plow
arrived, and gave Kit a note.
Kit knew Alison’s hand, and he went to the stove in the dining-room,
but when he tore open the envelope his hand shook. Then he set his
mouth, for Alison firmly pointed the proper line.
“There is no use in pretending, Kit,” she wrote. “At the shack I was
willing for you to know I loved you. You see, my dear, I did not
believe help would reach us; I thought we soon would freeze. In the
numbing cold, when hope was gone, all I wanted was to have you near
me.
“Well, it’s done with, and when Florence said you were coming to
Harper’s I saw I must steal away. You must not cheat, Kit; and if, for
my sake, you broke your word I would be ashamed. I would hate to feel
I’d stolen another’s lover. You must do all you engaged to do, and I
will wish you luck. Perhaps my letter’s cold, but I must use control
and you will not get another. When you arrive I shall be at Winnipeg
and soon afterwards on board the ship. Good-bye, Kit. Go straight—the
way you like to go—and look in front. By and by the road will get
easy.”
Kit put the letter in the stove. All was done with, for Alison was
proud and firm, but when the paper flared and blackened he clenched
his fist.
For a time he was very quiet; and then he heard a locomotive whistle
and he went to the track. The freight train was pulling out, the men
had put the trolley on a flat car, and Kit jumped for the caboose. He
dared not think about Alison and he tried to look in front. To begin
with he must build the tank, and then, if all went well, he would
claim Evelyn. In the meantime he would say nothing; until his work was
tested he must not boast.
The blizzard was winter’s last belated fury. The snow melted in the
hot sun and the bleached grass got green. Sandhill cranes trailed
across the sky, and ducks and geese steering north stopped to rest by
the prairie sloos. Kit moodily concentrated on his building. To be
occupied was some relief and the tank grew fast.
At length, one day when the birches and poplars in the bluff unfolded
their fresh leaves, a locomotive and an observation car arrived, and
three or four gentlemen got down. Kit stopped the noisy pump that fed
the tank and went to meet the party. Although he must reckon on expert
criticism he was cool. The job was good, but if the others were not
satisfied it would not bother him.
Wheeler presented him to a railroad engineer, and the party walked
about the tank and climbed to the top. Kit had pumped in the full
load, but all the joints were tight and the steel was dry and clean.
After a time the party returned to the open gallery at the back of the
car and the railroad engineer said to Kit:
“I like your tank and reckon she will carry her load, but we have
agreed about some alterations of which your chief will give you
particulars. Although your construction’s first-class, we see a better
plan to filter out the salts. Will you take a smoke?”
He pulled out some cigarettes and when Kit thanked him went into the
car. Kit knew he had got a compliment from a famous man. Wheeler and
another stopped, and Kit remarked his twinkle.
“You have put it across, young fellow! To get a cigar from Jameson is
like getting a riband for your coat. He acknowledges you Companion in
the Knights of the Track.”
“I suppose I ought to’ be flattered, but I imagined in Canada you had
not much use for ribands,” Kit rejoined, and turned to the other
gentleman. “All I really want, sir, is the company’s approval.”
“You’re modest,” remarked the bridge-works manager. “There was a sort
of agreement that if you put up the tank we would put up your pay, and
if you undertake to build the row the agreement stands. The only
stipulation is, you must stay for twelve months, after which we’ll
talk about things again. The railroad engineers, however, have
modified the plans.”
Wheeler gave Kit some drawings, and after a few minutes he said:
“I’m keen to stay, sir, and the alterations ought not to bother us.
All the same you must use heavier columns and wider plates.”
“That is so. We must wait for the material. The molders strike has
stopped the foundries, and the rolling mills cannot supply the plates
for some time. In fact, we may be held up for five or six weeks.”
Kit saw his opportunity. Evelyn did not know his luck had turned. She
ought to know and he could go across and see her.
“Before I start on the fresh job I want a holiday and since you must
wait for the steel my going will not embarrass you. I’ll undertake to
be back in a month, but I’d like to be longer.”
“Oh, well,” said Wheeler, “I knew you had some gall! Now you have
built a tank you reckon we ought to stand for a month’s pay?”
“I suppose the pay begins when I get to work, but it’s not important.
Anyhow, I must go across to the Old Country. The formula is urgent
private affairs.”
Wheeler turned to the manager. “Carson’s obstinate and I reckon his
modesty’s not conspicuous, but I’ll be accountable for his coming back
on time.”
The other nodded, and Wheeler said to Kit: “You can pull out when you
like, and when you claim your pay I guess the clerk will meet the
bill. There’s another thing—we can fix it for you to get a free ride
to Montreal.”
Kit thanked him and went back to the tank. Soon afterwards the train
steamed off, and sitting in the grass he lighted his pipe. Wheeler was
a useful friend. On the surface the fellow was a bully, and where he
ruled a slacker’s lot was hard, but Kit knew him for a first-class
sort. All the same he did not want to think about Wheeler.
Evelyn’s letters bothered him. It looked as if she bore some strain
and got tired. Well, he was engaged to marry her and so long as she
was willing the engagement stood. When he saw her he would know; but
she must join him in Canada. He could get a house at Fairmead, and
Carrie Austin would be kind. To picture Evelyn’s ruling a home like
Carrie’s was hard, but Kit began to see she was not the girl her lover
ought to leave alone.
Then he knocked out his pipe and smiled, a rather moody smile. He
admitted his luck was remarkably good. He had conquered, but in the
circumstances his conquering was a grim joke. Alison was gone and all
was flat. When he looked forward he saw a long, dreary road. Yet there
was no use in brooding, he must brace up and push ahead.
By and by the cook called him for supper; and two or three days
afterwards he started for Montreal. When he arrived in Canada he went
second-class; now he travelled by Pullman, but the hope he had known
had vanished.