"It was given us long ago. But I can't believe that there's much general sympathy with these troublesome fellows. What I complain of is popular apathy; nobody feels it his business to interfere; though this state of things can't continue. The patience of respectable people will wear out; and then one can look for drastic developments."
"In the meanwhile, the other crowd are having their fling."
Hardie nodded.
"That's unfortunately true, though the lawbreakers have now and then come off second-best. A few days ago, Wilkie, the station-agent, was sitting in his office when a man who had some grievance against the railroad walked up to the window. Wilkie told him he must send his claim to Winnipeg, and the fellow retorted that he would have satisfaction right away out of the agent's hide. With that, he climbed in through the window; and I must confess to a feeling of satisfaction when I heard that he left the station in need of medical assistance. A week earlier, Taunton, of the store, was walking home along the track in the dark after collecting some of his accounts, when a man jumped out from behind a stock of ties with a pistol and demanded his wallet. Taunton, taken by surprise, produced a wad of bills, but the thief was a little too eager or careless in seizing them, for Taunton grabbed the pistol and got his money back. After that, he marched the man three miles along the track and into his store. I don't know what happened then, but I heard that there were traces of a pretty lively scuffle."
George laughed, but his companion continued more gravely:
"Then we have had a number of small disturbances when the men from the new link line came into town—they've graded the track to within a few miles now—and I hold Beamish responsible; they haven't encouraged these fellows at the Queen's. In fact, I mean to walk over and try to get a few words with them as soon as I leave you."
"One would hardly think Saturday evening a very good time," George commented.
His train came in shortly afterward, and when it had gone Hardie went home for a rubber coat, and then took the trail leading out of the settlement. He was forced to trudge through the tangled grass beside it because the soft gumbo soil stuck to his boots in great black lumps, and the patches of dwarf brush through which he must smash made progress laborious. After a while, however, he saw a long trail of black smoke ahead, and sounds of distant activity grew steadily louder.
There was an angry red glare on the western horizon, though the light was beginning to fade, when he reached the end of the new line and found a crowd of men distributing piles of gravel and spiking down the rails which ran back, gleaming in the sunset, lurid, straight and level, across the expanse of grass, until they were lost in the shadowy mass of a bluff. Near the men stood a few jaded teams and miry wagons; farther on a row of freight-cars occupied a side-track, a little smoke rising from the stacks on the roofs of one or two. Their doors were open, and on passing, Hardie noticed the dirty blue blankets and the litter of wet clothing in the rude bunks. As he approached the last car, which served as store and office, a man sprang down upon the line. He wore wet long boots and an old rubber coat stained with soil, but there was a stamp of authority upon his bronzed face.
"How are you getting on, Mr. Farren?" Hardie inquired.