Every Man for Himself

E-text prepared by Al Haines
Author of Deep Furrows
Toronto The Musson Book Company Limited
Copyright, Canada, 1920 by Hopkins Moorehouse
The Musson Book Co., Limited Publishers . . . Toronto
To My Mother
Although prefaces are not the fashion in these accelerated times, some word of warning is due those who had the patience to read Deep Furrows. It seems but fair to point out that whereas Deep Furrows was historical and its characters actual people taking prominent part in current events, the present pages are purely fictitious and the characters therein not even composite portraits of living personages.
Similarly the story events are pure invention and as fittingly might have been staged in any other of the nine provinces. The author humbly craves indulgence if he has in any way exceeded the license allowed him in spinning the incidents necessary for a novel of this type while seeking verisimilitude in settings with which he is familiar.
Winnipeg, February, 1920.
Every Man For Himself
Except for the lone policeman who paused beneath the arc light at the Front Street intersection to make an entry in his patrol book, Bay Street was deserted. The fog which had come crawling in from the lake had filled the lower streets and was feeling its way steadily through the sleeping city, blurring the street lights. Its clammy touch darkened the stone facades of tall, silent buildings and left tiny wet beads on iron railing and grill work. Down towards the waterfront a yard-engine coughed and clanked about in the mist somewhere, noisily kicking together a string of box-cars, while at regular intervals the fog-horn over at the Eastern Gap bellowed mournfully into the night.
After tucking away his book and rebuttoning his tunic the policeman lingered on the corner for a moment in the manner of one who has nothing to do and no place to go. He was preparing to saunter on when footfalls began to echo in the emptiness of the street and presently the figure of a young man grew out of the gray vapor—a young man who was swinging down towards the docks with the easy stride of an athlete. As he came within the restricted range of the arc light it was to be seen that his panama hat was tilted to the back of his head and that he was holding a silk handkerchief to one eye as if a cinder had blown into it.