Название: Gulf and Glacier; or, The Percivals in Alaska
Автор: Willis Boyd Allen
Издательство: Public Domain
Жанр: Зарубежная классика
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“This is the meanest wood!” labored Tom. “Wet’s water.” And he essayed another match.
All this time Bessie had worked industriously, saying nothing. She had broken and whittled her chips into small pieces, and now pulled off her pretty yachting cap, holding it closely over the bark while she struck her first match. Protected by her dress, and gathering courage in the shelter of the cap, it flared up cheerfully, catching the crisp edges of the bark in grand style.
Down goes the cap, the girl’s brown hair escaping in little curly tresses that toss in the wind.
“I’ve almost got it!” shouts Tom, blowing at his smoking heap with all his might.
“Go in, old fellow!”
“Hurry, Bess!”
The passengers added their cheers and laughter to the cries of the others.
“There!” said Bess triumphantly, leaning back from her fire.
For fire it was, truly, with the red flames dancing upward gleefully through the twigs, and cracking in a manner that said plainly they had come to stay.
Tom generously joined in the applause that followed, and heaped all his hoarded fuel on his sister’s fire, nearly extinguishing it in his zeal.
“Camp Birch!” said Mr. Percival, naming it, as they named all their camp-fires.
A few minutes later the coals were scattered, for safety; and the engine giving its preconcerted call, the passengers hurried on board once more.
“Now,” said Selborne, “let’s hear the rest of the railroad story, Mr. Houghton.”
The latter gentleman, by no means averse to the task, accordingly continued.
“The surveys for the road made known the character of the country it had to traverse. In the wilderness about Superior, were found forests of pine and other timber, together with valuable farming land, and mineral deposits of immense value. The prairies beyond Winnipeg proved wonderfully promising for settlers; the mountains were seamed with coal, and sparkling with gold.”
Mr. Houghton’s face became even more radiant than usual, as he told of the wonderful riches of British Columbia.
“In 1881 the company contracted with the Government to finish the road within ten years – for which undertaking they received twenty-five million dollars, twenty-five million acres of agricultural land, and the railroad itself when complete.”
“Whew!” whistled Tom. “Say, Ran, let’s go to railroading.”
“The end of the third year,” continued the genial conductor, “found them at the summit of the Rocky Mountains; the fourth in the Selkirks, a thousand miles beyond Winnipeg. Sometimes they advanced five or six miles a day, armies of men attacking the mountains with thousands of tons of dynamite. On a certain wet morning – the seventh of November, 1885 – the last spike was driven on the main line of the Canadian Pacific Railway.”
Mr. Houghton’s eloquent peroration was followed by a round of applause, and all hands turned to the car windows once more, with new interest in this great triumph of mind over the forces of nature.
The boys were informed by Mr. Houghton in conclusion, that the country all around the lake was one of the greatest hunting districts on the continent. The forest abounded, he said, in moose, bear and caribou – all of which was extremely tantalizing to these young gentlemen, though the gentler members of the party took little interest in the conductor’s description of the sport.
We must pass rapidly over the next day or two. Soon after breakfast on Wednesday morning, our travelers found themselves on the shores of Lake Superior, and all day the train kept close beside it, the road curving, rising, descending, around great promontories of red rock, at the base of high cliffs, and across broad tributaries that came sweeping down from far Northern wastes. At times there was a heavy fog, through which the passengers could see the slow waves breaking on the rocks below. Then it would lift, showing new beauties close at hand, and bright, wooded islands in the misty distance. Beside the track grew strange flowers, and against the northern sky was outlined the notched edge of the boundless evergreen forest that stretched away to the Arctic solitudes.
At the little settlement of Peninsula, Selborne called the rest to see a fine, sturdy dog with the Esquimaux showing plainly in his pointed nose and ears, and thick soft fur.
“Doesn’t he look like the pictures in Dr. Kane?” whispered Pet, leaning over Kittie’s shoulder.
Jackfish proved to be a picturesque hamlet of log huts, clustering on a rocky point of land that jutted into the lake.
The train stopped at Schreiber long enough to allow the party to dash up into the town, and make a laughable variety of purchases at the principal store. Postal cards, buttons, candy and fancy pins disappeared in the pockets of the tourists, to the delight of the proprietor, who had not had such a run of custom for many a long day. Captain Bess bought several yards of the brightest scarlet ribbon she could find – for what purpose it will be seen hereafter.
Near the station at Nepigon was seen the first encampment of Indians – Chippewas they were; half-amused, half-indignant at the curious crowd they attracted.
Port Arthur was the terminus of the Eastern Division of the “C. P. R.,” a thousand miles from Montreal, and watches were all set back one hour to meet “Central Time.” Little girls crowded up to the passengers, selling milk in broken mugs, from small pails with which they darted hither and thither along the platform. I should hardly venture to say how many mugfuls the boys bought and drank, in the kindness of their hearts.
That evening a number of new friends from the “Missanabie” and “Calgary” came back to the “Kamloops,” by special invitation, and the united chorus sang over and over all the songs they did – and did not – know. “Little Annie Rooney,” then a reigning favorite in the East, was the most popular number in the programme.
I wish I could show the gay little party to you, as I see them now, photographed so clearly upon my memory: the older people in the rear, looking on with smiles, and occasionally joining in a familiar chorus; Kittie and Pet, their faces all aglow; Randolph, Fred and Mr. Selborne singing sturdily along, or pausing when they did not know the tune; Tom, singing at the top of his voice, whether he knew the tune or not, and beating time with a vigor that would have put Carl Zerrahn to shame – ah! how it all comes before me as I write; with one dear, kindly face that was merry and thoughtful by turns, but always tender and loving and good, as the songs rang out; the face I shall see no more until I reach the end of the longest journey of all – the journey of Life!
At breakfast on the following morning, Tom, who had taken upon himself to provide the girls with nosegays on the whole trip, marched into the dining-car with a neat little breast-knot of “squirrel-tail grass” which he had picked at Rat Portage, for each young lady. It was very pretty, but before long the objectionable feature of the grass asserted itself; that is, its clinging qualities, which made it impossible for the wearers to wholly rid themselves of the tiny barbed spires for two days afterward.
Winnipeg was reached at noon. Nearly all the passengers “went ashore,” and the empty cars were trundled away for a thorough cleaning, English fashion.
In twos and threes our friends wandered off through this strange young city, СКАЧАТЬ