“Freight locomotive jumped the track at a wash-out some miles ahead,” explained the engineer.  “Took the fireman with her; but I don’t know much about it yet.  Guess they’ll want me soon.”

George got the man to promise to take him, and then he went back until he met Edgar, to whom he related what he had heard.

“I’m not astonished,” remarked the lad, indicating one of the sleepers.  “Look at that—­the rail’s only held down by a spike or two; we fasten them in solid chairs.  They’re rough and ready in this country.”

It was the characteristic hypercritical attitude of the newly-arrived Englishman; and George, knowing that the Canadians strongly resent it, noticed a look of interest in the eyes of a girl standing near them.  She was, he imagined, about twenty-four years of age, and was dressed in some thin white material, the narrow skirt scarcely reaching to the tops of her remarkably neat shoes.  Her arms were uncovered to the elbows; her neck was bare, but this displayed a beautiful skin; and the face beneath the turned-down brim of the big hat was attractive.  George thought she was amused at Edgar’s comment.

“Well,” he said, “while we put down a few miles of metals they’d drive the track across leagues of new country and make a start with the traffic.  They haven’t time to be particular, with the great western wheat-land waiting for development.”

The girl moved away; and when word went around that there would be a delay of several hours, George sat down beside the lake and watched the Colonist passengers wash their children’s clothes.  It was, he thought, rather a striking scene—­the great train standing in the rugged wilderness, the wide stretch of gleaming water running back among the firs, and the swarm of jaded immigrants splashing bare-footed along the beach.  Their harsh voices and hoarse laughter broke discordantly on the silence of the woods.

After a while an elderly man, in badly-fitting clothes and an old wide-brimmed hat, sauntered up with the girl George had noticed, and stopped to survey the passengers.

“A middling sample; not so many English as usual,” he remarked.  “If they keep on coming in as they’re doing, we’ll get harvest hands at a reasonable figure.”

“All he thinks about!” Edgar commented, in a lowered voice.  “That’s the uncivil old fellow who smokes the vile leaf tobacco; he drove me out of the car once or twice.  It’s hard to believe he’s her father; but in some ways they’re alike.”

“I can’t help feeling sorry for them,” the girl replied.  “Look at those worn-out women, almost too limp to move.  It’s hot and shaky enough in our cars; the Colonist ones must be dreadful.”

“Good enough for the folks who’re in them; they’re not fastidious,” said the man.