“O, I’ve got mine,” exclaimed Sam pointing to several folded bills on his plate. “Better keep it. You’ll need it for grouse up on the Elk.”
Not knowing what else to do Frank sat down in confusion and thus came into possession of the gun, which is yet one of his most prized belongings. As soon as the attention of their friends had been withdrawn Phil leaned over to his chum and whispered:
“I never did have any use for a sleepyhead. This is an awful warning to me.”
From Rexford to Michel—the mountain town in Canada at the southern end of Elk Valley where the Teton was to stop, and from which place Mr. Mackworth and his friends were to enter the goat and sheep country by wagon, horse and airship—was about eighty-five miles. The branch road was a mining line and when, just after four o’clock in the afternoon, the special car was attached to the daily “mixed train,” it was with no great assurance that the hunting party heard the creaking and felt the swaying of the big car on the lighter tracks.
The ride northward gradually lifted the train higher and higher. The road followed the Kootenai’s east bank and, having left the less abrupt region of Rexford behind them, the travelers soon had a panorama rivaling that of the evening before. Immediately east lay the Mission Mountains—the western boundary of the new National Glacier Park—and slowly the laboring engine drew the train on to its higher pine covered flanks. The Kootenai dropped below.
Undimmed by the shadows of night; clear and distinct beneath the sapphire sky the whole world stood out until there seemed no distance. There was not the speed of the transcontinental limited and the train was a half hour in covering ten miles. This brought it to Gateway—the boundary between the United States and Canada.
“The white mark over there on the station platform,” explained Mr. Mackworth as the train came to a stop, “marks the boundary between the two countries.”
Of course the boys had to alight and straddle the line.
“This is an event to me,” exclaimed Frank, “for it’s the first time I’ve ever been out of the United States.”
“Me, too,” said Phil, who was yet standing in his own country. “And that being true I think I’ll go abroad.” With a laugh he jumped across the line. “But,” he added, “the United States is good enough for me. I don’t see much difference. I think I’ll come home,” and he sprang back again.