In the meantime, the rumble grew into a roar that rolled across the forest with a rhythmic beat, and a ray of light pierced the gloom up the track.  It was very bright and he knew it was thrown by a locomotive headlamp.  A west-bound freight train was coming and he must wait until it passed.  Freight trains were common objects, but as a rule when Foster saw one approaching he stopped to watch.  The great size and power of the locomotive appealed to his imagination, and he liked to think of the reckless courage of the men who drove the steel road through eight hundred miles of rugged wilderness to Port Arthur, and then on again through rocks and muskegs to the Western prairie.  It was a daring feat, when one remembered the obstacles and that there was no traffic to be developed on the way.

The beam of light became a cone of dazzling radiance; the rocks throbbed, and the gnarled pines shook as the roar swelled into a tremendous harmony of many different notes.  Then there was sudden darkness as the locomotive leaped past, and huge box-cars rushed, lurching and rocking, out of the thick, black smoke.  Flying ballast crashed against the rocks, and though the ground was frozen hard a hail of small particles rattled among the trees.  Then, as the tail-lights on the caboose sped by, a deep hoot of the whistle came back from about a quarter of a mile off, and soon afterwards the fading glimmer vanished round a curve.  It seemed to be going slower, and the rumble died away suddenly.  Foster thought there was a side-track ahead, where the freight would wait until a train going in the other direction crossed the switches.  If he could reach the spot in time, he might save himself a long walk.

His knee hurt as he stumbled over the gravel at the best pace he could make, but that did not matter much, A few minutes’ sharp pain could be borne, and he set his lips as he ran, while the perspiration dripped from him and his breath got short.  This was the consequence of leading a soft and, in a sense, luxurious life, he thought, but when he tried to walk next day he understood the reason better.  Still, he did not mean to be left behind in the frozen bush, and as he reached the curve was relieved to see lights flicker about the track.  When he stopped a man flashed a lantern into his face.

“Looks as if you’d made good time, but the track’s pretty rough for breaking records on,” he remarked.

“That’s so,” Foster answered breathlessly.  “I wanted to get here before you pulled out, because I’m going on with you.”

“No, sir; it’s clean against the rules.  You can’t get a free ride now on a C.P. freight”

“The rules apply to hobos.  I’ve got a first-class ticket to Montreal.”

“Then why in thunder are you running back to Fort William?”

“I’d have been satisfied to make the next station.  You see, I fell off the train.”

Another man, who wore big gloves and grimy over-alls, had come up, and laughed when he heard Foster’s explanation.