Part 28 (1/2)
”We can't get out and I guess I'll sew my clothes for you. In the morning I'm going to use Jardine's.”
”But why----” Jimmy began.
Deering indicated his torn shooting-jacket, ragged knickerbockers, and soil-stained puttees.
”I must start for Vancouver, to look up a fellow who has got some money of mine. Then I want to find out if the police have cured Douglas and what they are doing. If I wore my clothes, people would speculate about the dead-broke sporting guy.”
”Jardine's clothes are not very good; I've worn them for some time in the bush. Then I expect you'll find them tight.”
”They're a rancher's clothes and I don't mind looking like a bushman. In fact, until I make Vancouver, the part will go all right.”
Jimmy knitted his brows. Perhaps he had thought too much for himself, but he owned he did not want Deering to leave him.
”Well,” he said, ”I mustn't grumble. But will you be long?”
”When I've fixed my business and found out something useful I'll come right back,” Deering replied and threading the needle began to sew. ”I was raised in the bush and the small homesteaders are a pretty frugal lot. They don't throw away their old clothes.”
”When you reach the settlements, won't you run some risk?” Jimmy inquired.
”I expect the risk will not be altogether mine. So far as I know, the police are not looking for me. The trouble is, I might put them on your track; but so long as I'm steering for the coast this needn't bother us.
I don't want them to hit my trail when I'm coming back. Well, I'm pretty big to hide, but if they are after me, they'll watch out for a city sport, not a bushman.”
In the morning Deering started, and after a strenuous journey reached a small station some distance from the hotel. He did not buy his ticket from the agent; the conductor would supply him, and when the long train rolled in he got aboard. The porter was making up the second-cla.s.s berths and when Deering got his he went to bed. So far, his luck was good, but after he had slept for five or six hours he began to doubt.
A savage jolt threw him against the curtain, and the thin material tore from the rings. Deering went through, but came down like a cat on the floor. The brakes jarred and startled pa.s.sengers ran about. For the most part, they did not wear their proper clothes, but when Deering went to bed he wore all his and he pushed through a group that blocked the vestibule. The train stopped and from the platform he saw a leaping pillar of flame and reflections on rocks and trees. The white beam from the locomotive headlamp melted in the strong illumination, and moving figures cut the dark background. The picture was distinct and vivid like a scene from a film, until a cloud of steam rolled across the light and all was blurred.
Deering heard hammers and the clang of rails. A construction gang was obviously at work and he imagined a trestle had broken or perhaps another train had jumped the track. When he waited at the station, he had not tried to hide himself; to do so was risky, since he imagined the police had warned the agent to study the pa.s.sengers. If the agent had remarked him, the delay would be awkward and he wondered whether the telegraph wires were broken.
Jumping down, he went along the track and stopped in the strong light a blast-lamp threw across a gap. The road-bed was gone and a great bank of stones and snow rested on the hillside. Bent rails slanted into the hole and a broken telegraph pole hung by the tangled wires. Shovels rattled and a gang of men threw down soil and stones. Deering stopped one.
”How long is it since the land-slide cut the track?”
”About two hours since we got the call.”
”Then, they rushed you up pretty quick. I expect you got the call by wire?”
The other indicated the broken post. ”Wires went when the track went.
The section man came for us on a trolley; we're grading for a new bridge a few miles down the line.”
”Are you going to be long filling her up?”
”Three or four hours, I reckon. The boys are loading up the gravel train. But if the boss spots me talking, I'll get fired.”
Deering pondered. If the agent had been warned to look out for him, the fellow had had time to telegraph before the wires broke, and the police could arrange to watch the stations or put a trooper on board the train.
Deering did not think they had a warrant for his arrest, but they would try to use him in order to get on Jimmy's track. There was not much use in leaving the train, because he would be spotted when he boarded another. He resolved to go back to his berth and soon after he did so he went to sleep.
In the morning the train started. Deering got a good breakfast at a meal station and afterwards occupied a corner of a smoking compartment. Sleep and food had refreshed him and his mood was cheerful. He admitted he was perhaps ridiculous, but he had begun to enjoy his excursion; Deering was marked by a vein of rather boyish humor and to cheat the police amused him. By and by he speculated about his object for going after Jimmy when the warden was shot.
Jimmy had plunged into the gully sooner than let him go, but perhaps this did not account for all. Stannard had urged Jimmy to push for the plains, although Stannard ought to know the lad could not cross the mountains. Then he had indicated a line over the neck and Deering had stopped Jimmy at the top of a pitch that dropped to a horrible creva.s.se.