“Something of a job where ravines are numerous!” said Kit in a thoughtful voice. “One likes the fellows’ pluck.”
By and by they got down at a small station, and soon afterwards a black smoke plume rolled across the plain. The locomotive hauled two cars, and Kit, sitting by a window, saw shining ponds, birch and poplar bluffs, and rows of stooked sheaves on yellow stubble. The light was going, but men and teams labored in the fields and the smoke from the threshers floated about the sky.
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. The wooden sidewalks were broad and level, and a printed notice warned strangers that one was fined for expectorating on the boards.
Two wooden hotels and three or four stores occupied the bottom of the hill, and Kit noted indistinct groups on the verandas and the grocery steps. Behind the sidewalks were trees and garden lots. The trees were small, for the prairie winds are keen, and the gardens were not fenced. To look up the hill was like looking across a long, narrow lawn.
Kit thought the little frame houses picturesque, but they got indistinct and for the most part the lamps were not lighted. The evening was calm, and quiet voices indicated that family groups took the air by the front porch. One, however, heard mosquitoes, and sometimes Kit rubbed his neck. He approved Fairmead. For a prairie settlement, the town was old, and it looked as if the citizens were rather tranquilly satisfied than vulgarly ambitious.
At the top of the street Austin went up a short path. Lights pierced the trees in front of a house, and Kit thought about the evening Alison and he went drearily along the avenue by the river at Winnipeg. Now he was not a stranger, but he speculated about Alison. He wondered whether she was happy, and resolved to find out.
A woman came down the steps and kissed Austin. She gave Kit her hand and they went into the house. The matchboarded hall was narrow, and when Mrs. Austin pushed back a door Kit stopped, for Alison got up from a chair in the little room. Her clothes were fashionable, her pose was confident, and her look was bright. Kit had known she had charm, but now he felt her charm was marked, and when he saw her smile was for Austin he was moved by unreasonable jealousy. Then she saw Kit, and a touch of color came to her skin.
“Why, Kit! I didn’t know——”
Kit advanced, and when Alison gave him her hand her look was frank and kind.