The car was divided into two compartments: one small one for a sleeping-room, the larger—in which the strangers were received—serving as kitchen and “living room.” A fire snapped and purred comfortably in the stove; before the tiny windows (against which the rain was now dashing in good earnest) were draped red curtains, and on the sill were pots of geranium and ivy.
Cheerful prints hung upon the walls, and altogether the old freight car, settled down at last after its many wanderings, was as cosey a home as heart could desire.
The bright little hostess proudly exhibited a photograph of her husband, a manly-looking fellow, and one or two other views which comprised her art treasures. Her modest and quiet demeanor would have done credit to a high-bred lady, and none of the Percivals, I think, will soon forget their hearty welcome, or the warm good-by with which she sped her parting guests.
Before leaving, it should be added, Randolph made the rounds of the car, and left a substantial remembrance in the hands of this far away “King’s Daughter.” But the train was ready, and the old locomotive in a flurried way calling her brood of one hundred chickens together.
Away went the cars once more, curving around the mountain spurs, crossing torrents, clinging to the rugged slopes of granite; now descending to the level of the Columbia, now climbing again to Eagle Pass, ever westward toward the Pacific.
That night, it should be mentioned, they passed through Kamloops, not a remarkable town in itself, but ever memorable from the fact that it gave its name to the car in which the Percivals crossed the Continent. A great celebration had been planned for the occasion; but as everybody was asleep at the time (about two in the morning), it didn’t come off. The titles of all the cars had by this time become very familiar, and the girls spoke of calling on a friend in the “Missanabie,” or stepping back to the “Nepigon,” as they would mention Newbury Street or Louisburg Square.
One morning they found themselves rolling along the high bank of the Fraser River, famous in the history of the gold fever of 1849; its muddy waters, laden with the wealth of empires, rushing past the train toward the ocean. On the shore Chinamen and Indians could be seen, dredging for gold, or fishing for salmon.
On the further side of the river ran the old Government wagon road, curiously built and buttressed with logs in many places, leading to the Cariboo gold country.
At Yale—an outfitting point for runners and ranchmen—there was a stop to water the engine. Children crowded up to the cars with small baskets of berries and nosegays.
Randolph brought in to Bessie—who was patiently bearing her lameness—a bunch of exquisite white pansies, a strange product for this wild, half-civilized country.