Yet Lister knew it stood for all the relief from labor in the stinging alkali dust one could get. One could loaf in a hard chair in front of the hotel, lose a dollar or two at the shabby pool-room, or go to a movie show and see pictures of frankly ridiculous Western melodrama. In the real West, the pictures were ridiculous, because romantic shootings-up did not happen. In fact, unless a stubborn labor dispute began, nothing broke the dull monotony of toilsome effort. Romance had vanished with the buffaloes. Lister admitted that he had not long felt the monotony. The trouble began when he stopped at Winnipeg.
"I think I'll go up the street," he said.
A rough plank sidewalk ran in front of the houses, and Lister imagined it was needed when the spring thaw and summer thunder-storms softened the gumbo soil. Opposite the Occidental he stopped, for Duveen occupied a chair on the veranda. While Lister hesitated Duveen beckoned him to come up.
"It's hot and dusty. Will you take a drink?" he said.
Lister refused with thanks and wondered whether Ruth was at the hotel. In a way, he would like to see her, but admitted that perhaps he had better not. When he asked if she was well Duveen said she had gone to Quebec, and gave Lister a cigar.
"It looks as if you had left the railroad," he remarked.
"I have not left yet," said Lister cautiously.
"Then, you won't go unless you get a better job? Did you know I had joined the Irrigation Board?"
Lister said he did not know, and got embarrassed when Duveen gave him a thoughtful glance. He wondered whether Ruth had talked to Duveen before she hinted he might get a better post.
"Perhaps I ought not to have come up. In fact, I hesitated—"