The End of the Rainbow

by Mary Esther Miller MacGregor

There was Sandy Graham's brother from New York, who had made, some said, a million in real estate deals in the West, and Lawyer Ed's own brother, who was a professor of note in a University "down East." There were business, and professional men, young workmen from near by cities and towns, statesmen and scholars. But of them all, none was such a hero, and none so eagerly awaited, as Harry Armstrong. For only the summer before, Harry had taken a Canadian lacrosse team around the world and had vanquished everything in Europe, Asia and Africa that dared to hold up a stick against them.

When the first far away note of the Inverness' whistle floated across the water from the Gates, the ladies at the Presbyterian church began putting the finishing touches to the tables and the dressing on the salads, and half of the reception committee that had remained at home drove down to the dock. They arranged themselves there in proper order, with Captain Willoughby, the Mayor, at the head, or rather almost at the head, for of course Lawyer Ed was a few steps in advance of him.

The dock was a new and important landing place. There was a big distinction between the dock and the wharf. The latter was the decrepit old wooden structure, torn and jarred by ice and storms, that stood at the foot of Main Street, where every one of the Old Boys had fished and fallen in and nearly drowned himself many a time. But the dock, as every one knew, was the fine new landing place, built of stone and cement, and stretching from the town park, away out, it almost seemed, as far as the Gates. The Inverness had had instruction to put in at the dock, not only to impress the Old Boys with the strides Algonquin had made, but as a delicate compliment to Tom Willoughby, through whose political influence it had been built.

All the cabs in town had been hired and all the buggies loaned, and they lined up along the park road waiting to take the guests up to the church. Lawyer Ed had suggested at first that the Mayor ride down in his automobile, but as all the horses in town had to be out at the same time, the experiment was voted too dangerous and the Mayor drove in a commonplace but safe cab.

Every one was at his proper station waiting when, with a blaze of colour and a burst of music, the Inverness curved around Wanda Island and swept into view. She was a brave sight surely! From every side floated banners and pennons, her deck rail and her flag-staff were covered with green boughs, Old Boys fairly swarmed the decks from stem to stern. And up in the bow, their instruments flashing in the sunlight, stood the band, playing loudly and gaily, "Home, Sweet Home."

No one ever quite knew who was to blame that things went amiss from that splendid moment. Captain Jimmie said it was the fault of Major Dobie, the leader of the band, and Major Dobie was equally certain it was the captain's fault. The Old Boys themselves were willing to take all the blame, and perhaps they were right, for they danced on the deck, and crowded about the wheel so that Captain Jimmie had no idea whither he was steering. However it was, instead of turning to starboard, as he had been instructed, and running in to the dock where the committee waited, Captain Jimmie swept to larboard around the buoy that marked his turning point, and made straight for his old hitching post at the wharf.

The Mayor and the Committee shouted and waved. Lawyer Ed stood up on the seat of a cab and roared out a command across the water that might have been heard at the Gates, but the band and the cheers of the Old Boys drowned his voice. Captain Jimmie pursued his mistaken course, never once stopping in the stream of Gaelic with which he was entertaining his Highland guests, and even the half of the Committee on board forgot where they were to land, in their joyous excitement.

Then Lawyer Ed fairly pitched Afternoon Tea Willie into a row-boat and sent him spinning across the water to head-off the Inverness and make her turn to the park. But the poor boy had been working like a slave since early morning at the Presbyterian church, and could not row fast enough. He was only half-way across when the whistle sounded to shut off steam. But just as the Inverness stopped with a bump, some one of the committee came to his senses, and rushed to the captain, pointing out the frantically waving hosts on the dock.

"Cosh! Bless my soul!" cried Captain Jimmie in dismay. He gave a wrench to the wheel, shouting orders to the Ancient Mariner to gee her around and go back, but he was too late. Before the gang-plank had been thrown out, or rope hitched, the Old Boys had leaped ashore. Captain Jimmie yelled at them to come back, but they paid no more heed than they would have done twenty-five years earlier and went swarming joyfully up Main Street.

But meanwhile a dozen of the reception committee had come tearing down the railroad track from the park and were shouting upon them to stop. Then the Mayor, Archie Blair, J. P. Thornton and Lawyer Ed having leaped into a cab, and driven furiously across the town, were now thundering down Main Street. They headed off the truant Old Boys, and drove them back to the wharf to be received decorously and listen to the welcoming address. As they had dashed past the Presbyterian church at a mad gallop, every one became alarmed and the news spread that a dreadful disaster had happened to the Inverness. But Afternoon Tea Willie came running up out of breath and wet with perspiration to tell them the real state of affairs. He was scolded soundly by Mrs. Captain Willoughby, and went about pouring out apologies all day after.