Harold Bindloss

“ He was resting by the Manitoba bluff because he was Christopher Carson and had inherited qualities that persuaded him to go; he did not see Evelyn in the third-class saloon because she was Evelyn. Anyhow, it was something like that, but he was not a philosopher, and he began to muse about Alison.
Although he knew her fastidious, when she cooked supper on the train and occupied the bench at Winnipeg station, her surroundings did not jar. One felt shabbiness and dreariness vanished when she was about. It looked as if she had power to transmute the ugly things she touched to something fine. ”

“ Kit smiled, but his smile was forced. The fight was harder because he tried to observe rules that were not his. His habit was to trust his luck and follow joyous adventure. Yet all adventure was not joyous, and Evelyn had not known poverty.
“Sometimes one’s forced to ponder,” he rejoined. “I expect the minstrel’s road is rocky, and when your road is awkward you ought to go alone.”
“Ah, you’re not logical. One can help another, and perhaps a woman’s help is worth more than you think. Would you sooner start alone, Kit?” ”

“ He had got Austin’s coat and, in the snow and turmoil, he thought the men would not know him from Bob; they were much the same height and build. Jumping for a tie-rod, he went up into the snow, and when a beam from a lamp searched the spot he reached, the torn slicker was conspicuous. Underneath were two small platforms and the angry flood. His hands were numb and his skin smarted, but after all the snow was wet. Flesh and blood could not labor in the frost that dries the snow to dust. ”

“ They went back. Nobody yet knew when the trains would go, and Kit put Alison’s rug on a bench in the waiting hall and sat down on his bag. The spacious hall was rather like a palace than an English waiting-room. The light was soft and clear. Noble columns supported the huge glass dome and good pictures of Canadian landscapes occupied the walls. The ornamental benches were moulded to one’s body and the floor was white marble.
The passengers, however, did not harmonize with the hall. Listless, dusty emigrants leaned against the pillars and crowded the benches. ”

“ At the engine shops one heard much about racing, football and social economics. It looked as if the Canadians concentrated on their occupation, and now they frankly concentrated on their supper. In fact, Kit felt the rude feast was marked by something of a Homeric touch.
The men’s clothes were thin, and one saw their bodies were molded on classical lines; sometimes an unconscious pose was statuesque. Then one got a hint of careless, optimistic confidence. The bridge gang obviously did not bother; they labored, fought, and trusted their luck. Kit felt the gang and the bunk-house harmonized. ”

“ A covey of grouse flew noisily across the headlamp’s beam. When they vanished all was quiet but for a little beck in the heather. The tinkling splash got louder, and Evelyn saw the road went down-hill.
“In the North evenings like this are not numerous,” Ledward remarked. “When the moon’s on the heather and the sky is serene, the moor has some charm.”
“When all you hear is the wind and the sheep, serenity gets monotonous,” Evelyn rejoined. “In winter Netherdale’s deadly quiet, and winter is not short. I like crowds and lights and noise, and sometimes I feel the dale’s a prison. ”

“ 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.” ”

“ At the end of the bridge they stopped. The beam from the lamps did not travel far, and in front was a dark gap. Twenty feet below, the river brawled among the piers and its turmoil faintly pierced the scream of the gale. A ladder went down into the tossing snow, and one heard chains rattle and hoarse shouts. Then a slanted flame leaped upright, and platforms and workmen’s figures got distinct. Kit thought Austin ought not to go down, but Bob was obstinate and he could not force him back. ”

“ Perhaps Kit exaggerated, but he had feeling and talent and he let himself go. He must banish the others’ moodiness and his own; he and they steered West, where better fortune was, and all must push ahead. He frankly used all the tricks he knew, but the emigrants were not critical, and the march fired their blood. The music got loud, as if it marked a triumphant advance, and then Kit took the fiddle from his neck. ”

“ At Fairmead three grain elevators like castles broke the sweep of plain. Dim lights burned behind high windows and wheels throbbed. Dark boxcars blocked the tracks and a yard locomotive pushed a fresh row across the switches. The beams from the engines’ headlamps joined, and for half a mile the silver light flashed along a waiting train. The new wheat was going East.
When Kit left the station he thought Fairmead marked by a prosperous and friendly calm. The wide street was evenly graded and went up a gentle incline. ”

“ If Mrs. Tyson did not need her she might return to the creamery, and Kit hoped she would do so. Alison ought not to remain at Whinnyates; she had qualities and talents she could not use at the lonely farm, but if she did not go soon the moors might claim her. One lost the alert keenness Canadians valued, and in the bleak dales a woman’s work was hard. Kit hated to picture Alison’s laboring at the byres and perhaps in the fields.
Then a pale yellow beam touched the road and he looked about. Thin mist rolled across the broken moor and vague, dark hills melted in thunder-clouds. ”

“ Do you hear the guitars tinkle under the lattice window?”
“I do not,” said Blake, smiling. “Still, you see, I’m not a lute player.”
“Oh, well, the next lot’s blatantly pictorial,” said Kit and pushed down the pedal. “Shipyard hammers! You can hear that! Now the Negapatam’s whistle calls in the smoke and fog. She steals down river; her screw throbs steadily and stops. The pilot’s boat vanishes and the engines beat a quicker rhythm. The dark water heaves and splashes at the bows. She steers south for sunshine and the islands of pearls and spice.” ”

“ Kit, pulling out the cheese and crackers, began his lunch. His violin was all he carried, he did not know when he would get his trunk, and his money was nearly gone. Then it was possible the bridge engineers would have no use for him. Perhaps he had some grounds to be anxious, but he was not.
The wind and the sunshine banished moody thought. The sky was blue and to look across the spacious plain was bracing. One saw it melt in the distance, and the distance called. If he did not get a job, he must fiddle for his supper, and in the morning he would push on again. ”

“ The platform was narrow and encumbered by the tool-box and a forge. He must fight on awkward ground, and he did not think his antagonist would use the rules of the boxing ring. He expected to be beaten, but if he refused the challenge he must leave the camp.
“I’ll try,” he said.
Railton jumped across the platform, as if he trusted his weight and strength. Kit’s guard was beaten down and his jarred right arm dropped. He felt as if he were struck by a forge hammer, and he fell against the lattice. Another knock like that would put him out, and if he fell the other way he would go into the river. ”

“ I like fashionable clothes, and I hate poverty. You knew, and you ought to have made some effort to get rich; but when you went to Canada you once more indulged your romantic vein. You didn’t bother about my waiting at dreary Netherdale, pitied, rather contemptuously, by my relations.”
“It looks as if I was selfishly careless, but until about a week since I couldn’t meddle. I didn’t know I would build the tanks, and my pay was small. The strange thing was, you thought Harry would see you out! I imagine he’s not rich.”
Evelyn was highly strung, and Kit’s coolness broke her control. ”

“ Kit, however, did not think him antagonistic. For the most part the bridge gang were a sober lot.
“Shall I start the blower for you?” he inquired.
“You can start your wheel and grind them tools,” replied Bill.
Kit got to work and the revolving grindstone bit the steel. Bill set the blower going and its rhythmic throb shook the iron walls. Blue flames danced about the forge, and the iron bedded in the coal began to shine. Bill, leaning down, turned the glowing lump and the reflections touched his face. The lines were deep and Kit remarked the white hair on his knitted brows. ”

“ Alan hesitated. His habit was to hesitate and he said awkwardly: “Where you have keen competitors, your servants must be stanch. If I carried on a business like yours and engaged Harry, I’d use some reserve.”
“Oh, well,” said Jasper, “I reckon I can trust the fellow as far as I’m forced....” He stopped for a moment and lighted a cigarette, for he wanted to strike a note he had struck before. Alan was dull and would not think his doing so significant.
“Frankness is rather embarrassing,” he resumed. “You see. Kit is my relation, but I don’t feel I could reckon on his trustworthiness.” ”

“ Jasper agreed. “Still I’m not altogether slack. Sometimes I ponder and sometimes I plan.”
He went off, and Kit’s eyes twinkled. “Jasper’s plans work, and his obvious duty is to plan for me. All the same, if he wants to send me to Canada, I doubt if I’ll go. He has much to do with Canadian engineering and bridge-building works, but I’m satisfied to stop in the Old Country.”
“He’s your friend; I doubt if he is mine,” said Evelyn. “I like Alan Carson better.”
“Alan is a very good sort, but when you doubt Jasper you exaggerate. All who know you are your friends.” ”

“ When Agatha sat down Ledward went off. For a young man he was rather fat; but he was a handsome fellow and marked by a cultivated urbanity. Agatha let him go and turned to Evelyn. “You’re loyal,” she said. “I thought you plucky!”
“Kit’s my lover. I promised to marry him when he makes good.”
“Then the stipulation was not, if he made good?”
“Sometimes you’re like Jasper Carson; one doubts if you are kind.”
“I’m Kit’s sister; perhaps I’m shabbily jealous,” Agatha replied.
“Oh, well, I’m going to be frank. Mrs. Carson hates Kit and mother’s afraid of her; she punishes people who do not agree. ”

“ A week or two afterwards a freight train stopped by a creek some distance from the bridge, and Kit and a number of workmen got down from the caboose. A bluff sheltered the spot, and Kit was glad to get behind the trees, for the wind was keen. On the Western plains the snow is thin, and where the rises faced south the grass was dry and bleached. Winter was going but was not altogether gone, and under the boggy surface the soil was frozen. Thick clouds floated about the dreary sky and the light got faint. A flat car carried a wooden house, framed in sections, and Kit called his men. ”

“ An old woman got up from a chair by the fire, and when she gave Kit her hand he saw she studied him. Well, some curiosity was justified. Mrs. Tyson knew who he was; she probably knew he was forced to leave the shipyard, and Alison had talked about their adventures. Mrs. Tyson was thin and worn by sickness and labor, but her glance was keen, and her calm, somehow, was proud.
“You’re welcome. If the rain does not stop you’ll bide for the night.”
“I must try for Netherhall,” said Kit. “You ought not to have got up. I hope you’re better?” ”

“ Alison took her plate. Kit had banished her moodiness, and although she doubted if she ought to agree, his ordering a first-class passenger’s supper was something of a joke. After a time she got up, and he put a coin on a plate.
“I’m not scrupulous about cheating a steamship company, but one ought not to cheat a steward,” he remarked. “Then, since he reckons on getting his tips at Montreal, he’ll speculate about our generosity, and he may see the joke. Unless the other sees it, a joke has not much point.” ”

“ They growled sullenly, and Kit thought “growl” was the proper word, for the noise carried a hint of animal savageness. When the shipyard gates stopped a strikers’ march, Kit had heard the ominous note before.
“Give me your ticket,” he said to Alison. “I’ll see you on the cars.”
“But the railway people will turn you back.”
“I think not; if they try, they’re fools,” said Kit. “This crowd’s going through.”
For a few minutes the railroad men struggled to hold the jostling passengers, and then one shut the ponderous gate. The mob howled and rolled ahead, and the group was flung against the rails. ”

“ One shouldered one’s load and went forward; that was all.
When Kit put down his violin a crowd surrounded the rock. Alison heard English voices and calls in languages she did not know.
“They have not had enough,” she said. “They want you to begin again.”
“I think not,” Kit replied. “I played the march on board the ship and we’ll try something fresh. All are not foreigners, and you’ll sing our lot a love song that’s famous where the English language goes.”
He put the fiddle to his neck and for a minute or two played, like an overture, two or three old Scottish airs. ”