“Now, which of these cars have we got to ride in, I wonder?” said Mrs. Walford, in a puzzled tone, as the first car appeared to be fast locked, and there was no possibility of getting near the others save by wading or swimming, as the melted snow covered the track in pools of muddy water; then, seeing a man in the distance who appeared to be in some way connected with the train, she called out loudly, “Here! Hi! young man, can you tell me which of these cars has been reserved for Mrs. Walford, of the Mounted Police?”
“This ain’t a passenger train, ma’am, but only a freighter going through to railhead loaded with construction stuff,” said the young man, lifting his cap politely.
“I did not say it was, but it has got to carry a passenger, or rather two passengers, this trip, so just stir round, will you, please, and see where we are to be accommodated, for I don’t want to stand in this cutting wind much longer,” said Mrs. Walford impatiently.
“But there ain’t anywhere for you to ride,” objected the young man, looking so much worried by the stout woman’s persistence, that Bertha had some difficulty in keeping from laughing.
“Well, all I have got to say about it is that you will have to make a place for us to ride, then, and that very quickly, too, for I’m not here to be kept waiting,” rejoined Mrs. Walford, with a note of asperity creeping into her tone. “I have a pass from Inspector Grant to carry this young lady and myself to railhead, and we have got to be taken there, even if you have to unload one box car on purpose for us.”
“I wish that we could be told when we have got to carry passengers, then we might be able to have proper accommodation for them,” said the young man, whereupon he departed in all haste to find the brakeman, who was presently unearthed from the caboose of the engine, where he had been refreshing himself with a cup of hot coffee, and was only dragged forth by the importunities of the young man, who was really concerned on account of the stout woman and her companion.
“There is a lot of camp bedding in that first box car; we might make room for you in there. It will be rather close, I’m afraid, and you won’t be able to have a fire, but it is the best that we can do for you,” said the brakeman, when he had mentally figured out the different kinds of lading contained in the three box cars.
“We shan’t need a fire if there is so much bedding. The nights are not as cold as they were, and, for my own part, I would rather not be shut up in a box car, with a red-hot stove, over a track that is not properly settled,” said Mrs. Walford, who was an old hand at pioneer travelling, and knew to a nicety what it was best to avoid.
“Well, come along, and I will stow you away as comfortably as I can manage it. We are due to draw out of Rownton in less than half an hour, and we shall need as much as that, I guess, to fix you up so that you won’t fall out of bed,” said the man, and, seizing a lantern which hung inside the depot shed, he fixed a short ladder to the opening high up on the side of the box car, and, running up it, he unlocked the doors and swung them back.
The car was packed from floor to ceiling with bundles of bedding fastened up in coarse canvas, and at first sight there did not appear to be an inch of space in which the two passengers could be stowed; but the brakeman called the young man to whom Mrs. Walford had at first applied, and the two worked with so much zeal and energy, that at the end of twenty minutes they had succeeded in clearing a little space which would enable Mrs. Walford and Bertha to sit side by side, though they could not lie down. Then, ripping open a bundle of blankets, the brakeman spread them out for the comfort of the adventurous pair of travellers, and the preparations were complete.