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<h2 class="newchapter">XXV THE CALL</h2> Jimmy fastened his skin coat, and going to the door of the section-man's hut, looked up the track. The railroad and an angry river occupied the bottom of the gorge, but the water was low and a rapid throbbed on a dull note. Jimmy knew its slack beat was ominous; the frost had stopped the streams that not long since leaped out from the glaciers. He shivered, for the cold was keen and the coat he had got at Green Lake was old. Besides, he was tired; he had started before daybreak from his shack, but when he reached the railroad the moon was on the rocks. In the shadow, the snow that streaked the mountain-side was blue; across the gorge broken crags shone like polished steel and the small pines growing in the cracks sparkled with frost. Not far off, a dark hole in a slanted white bank indicated the mouth of a snow shed, but Jimmy knew the stones and snow had come down the hill. When he looked up, his view on one side was cut by the top of a precipice; it was like looking up from a deep pit. Farther along the gorge, the rocks got indistinct and melted in the moon's pale reflections. No track but the railroad pierced the mountains, although the wide chain was broken by narrow valleys running north and south. Jimmy had come up the line from the valley he occupied, and by another some distance off one could reach Green Lake. The nearest station was twelve miles away, at the end of Graham's section. Jimmy had arrived half an hour since, but had not found Graham, although his stove was burning. Peter Jardine had stated he could trust the man, who had begun to clear a ranch at Green Lake but had stopped when his money was gone. In the mountains, ranching is a slow and laborious job, and men whose means are small are forced at times to follow another occupation. By and by a lantern twinkled at the mouth of the snow shed and a man came up the track. "Hello!" he said. "I've got some news and wondered if you'd blow in, but I wanted to take a look at the rock-cut before the freight comes through. Did you make supper?" Jimmy said he had cooked some flapjacks, although he felt he ought to wait until his host arrived. "Shucks!" remarked Graham. "Jardine's my neighbor and he allows you're his friend. But the cold's fierce. Let's get in." They sat down by the stove and for a minute or two Jimmy was content to warm himself and smoke. At the shack he had no light but the fire and the long evenings were dreary. All the same, he was disturbed and with something of an effort he said, "Well?" "Two troopers got off the west-bound at the depot and my partner, Tellson, allowed they brought a lot of truck. Looks as if they meant to stop around and search the neighborhood." "Ah!" said Jimmy. "I expect they know I'm about! Did they bring their horses?" "Tellson saw no horses. If the boys were going to Green Lake, they could ride. Besides, the other outfit went there not long since." Jimmy nodded. He knew the police had not bothered Margaret and he must think for himself. The troopers not bringing their horses was ominous, since it indicated that they were going to push into the mountains. The valley in which he hid did not open to the track; to reach it one must climb a mountain spur, but he imagined the police meant to climb. If they found the mouth of the valley, they might reach the shack before he knew, and if he got away, he must take the snowy rocks. "I expect Jardine hasn't yet arranged to send me out on board a train?" he said. "Peter was trying to fix it; he had to wait until he met a construction boss he knows; but he can't fix it now. The police will stop the gangs and tally up the boys." "If they come down the line, to find out where I am won't take them long." "Your chances don't look very good," Graham agreed. "If you could cross the range to the park valley, you might get away south, but I doubt if you could make it." Jimmy said nothing. He imagined Deering stated the range had been climbed by some city members of the Canadian Alpine Club; but they, no doubt, took packers to carry supplies and went when the snow-line was high. For a lonely man to venture on the icy rocks was ridiculous. After a few minutes Graham pulled out his watch. "The freight's making good time and when she's gone I must go up the track to the piece the boys underpinned," he said. "I reckon I'll be away an hour and you had better go to bed." Jimmy heard a rumble and went with Graham to the door. To watch the great train come down the gorge would for a few minutes banish his gloomy thoughts. Up the track, a streak of silver light touched the rocks and trees. The speeding beam got brighter, and by and by dazzling radiance flooded the gorge. The ground began to shake, harsh, clanging echoes rolled across the rocks; one heard the big cars jolt and the roar of wheels. Then black smoke swirled about the hut and the beam was gone. In the dark, the banging cars rushed by, a blaze touched the snow shed and went out, and the turmoil died away. Graham picked up his lantern and Jimmy went back to the stove. Lighting his pipe, he pulled out Stannard's map and began to ponder. It was obvious he must not stay long at the trapper's shack. Since the police watched the neighborhood, he could not get food, and when they found the way to the valley he would be driven back into the mountains. In fact, he felt he ought to try for freedom now before his line of retreat was cut, but he was tired and did not see where he could go. There was no use in stealing off along the track, because the station agents were, no doubt, warned to look out for him. If he started before daybreak, he might perhaps reach the trail to Green Lake, but Peter had already run some risk for him and Margaret was at her cousin's. To go to Green Lake would put the police on her track. Jimmy studied Stannard's map. Across the mountains behind the shack, the park valley ran southeast and from its other end one could perhaps reach the plains and the United States. Graham had stated Jimmy could not cross the range, but Graham was not a mountaineer. Stannard was a mountaineer and could get supplies and packers. Then Stannard was his friend and perhaps owed him something. The adventure was daunting, but Jimmy resolved to try it. He must for a few days risk stopping at the shack, and pulling out a blank-book, he wrote a note. Graham would send the note and Stannard would, no doubt, start soon after it arrived. Then Jimmy thought he ought to let Margaret know his plans and he wrote another note. Putting the envelopes on a shelf, he got into Graham's bunk. When Jimmy's note arrived at the hotel Stannard was at dinner. For the most part, the guests had gone, but Mrs. Dillon had returned with Frank and Laura, and a young man had joined the party. Stevens belonged to the Canadian Alpine Club, and knowing about Stannard's exploits, had cultivated his society. Stannard took the soiled envelope from the page and noted it had not a stamp. "Who brought the letter?" he asked. "A freight brakesman gave it to our porter at the station." Stannard put down the envelope and resumed his dinner, but Laura said, "The hand is Jimmy's. Aren't you curious?" "I am curious, anyhow," Dillon declared, and Mrs. Dillon looked up, for she knew something about Jimmy's adventures. "If you want to read your letter, do so," she said to Stannard. Stannard opened the envelope and Laura remarked his thoughtful look. She took the note from him and after a moment or two gave it Dillon. "Is it possible for Jimmy to get across?" Dillon asked. "I frankly don't know," said Stannard and turned to Stevens. "A young friend of ours wants to try a rather bold exploit; he thinks he can cross the Cedar Range and I could help. In summer, I wouldn't hesitate. To venture on the snow-fields now is another thing." Stevens's eyes sparkled. He was young and enthusiastic, and to climb with a mountaineer like Stannard was something to talk about. "Although I haven't long joined the club, sir, I went with Gordon when he explored the Cascades from Rawden. If you go, I'd like to join you." "I don't yet know if I'll go or not," said Stannard and resumed his dinner. Mrs. Dillon touched Laura. She was a large and rather quiet lady and not marked by much refinement, but she was kind and sometimes firm. "I want to see that note," she said. Laura looked at Stannard and gave her the note. "The poor young man. He's surely up against it!" she exclaimed. "I like Jimmy. If I was a mountain clubman, I'd feel I'd got a call." Stannard said nothing and Laura was quiet. She was disturbed about Jimmy, but she knew her father. Besides, she thought Stevens curious. By and by she looked at Dillon, who began to talk about something else. When dinner was over Mrs. Dillon joined another lady and Stannard went off. Laura and Dillon remained at the table and Stevens saw they did not want his society. He went away and Laura asked: "Do you think Jimmy can escape?" "If he stops at his hut, I expect the police will get him," Dillon replied. Laura frowned and looked about. The table was decorated by flowers from the coast, and the electric light was reflected by good china and glass. In the background were polished hardwood panels and carved pillars. The spacious room was warm; all struck a note of luxurious refinement, but Laura thought about Jimmy, cut off from his supplies, in the snow. Had Jimmy gone back to Lancashire, she admitted she might have married him. He had refused and for a time his obstinacy had hurt, but she was not revengeful and, since she had rather weighed his advantages than loved him, she could let it go. She liked Jimmy and was moved by a gentle sentimental tenderness. "Are you willing to help Jimmy, Frank?" she asked. "Why, of course! I thought you knew I mean to help," Dillon declared. "Perhaps I was jealous about Jimmy, but now I'm sorry for him. All the same, your father puzzles me. He's not keen." "I expect he knows the risk," said Laura thoughtfully, for Stannard's hesitation was obvious. "Since he must lead the party, he feels he ought not to be rash. Then if Jimmy got away across the mountains, I expect the police would make you all accountable." "Oh, well, the job is awkward, although I expect we could put it over. Suppose we look for Mr. Stannard?" Stannard was in the rotunda, and when Laura and Dillon advanced he smiled. "You are young and romantic, but I am not. When one gets old one uses caution." "I doubt if I am romantic, but I think Mrs. Dillon did not exaggerate," Laura rejoined. "Jimmy is our friend and trusts us. His note is a call." "Sometimes deafness is not a drawback. I own I'd sooner not hear the call." "But you mean to go?" "It looks as if I might be forced. Frank's resolve is rather obvious," said Stannard with a resigned shrug. Dillon gave him a keen glance. Somehow he felt Stannard did mean to go, but wanted to be forced. Frank thought it strange. "I feel we ought to help, and now Deering is not about, nobody but you can lead us." For a few moments Stannard was quiet. Then he said, "Very well, but if we are going, we must start soon. We want packers to carry food and a tent as far as possible, and I'd like a good mountaineer to help on the rocks. The hotel guides are gone, but I expect the clerk knows where to find them." "Grant lives at Calgary." "I think the fellow I want's at Revelstoke and he could get the train that arrives in the morning," said Stannard, and pulled out his watch. "We can send a night-letter and needn't use economy. I'll telephone the station agent and give him the message." Frank knew Grant of Calgary was a good mountaineer, but he said nothing and Stannard gave Laura a smile. "I expect you are satisfied." "You're as noble as I thought," said Laura. "I knew why you hesitated and it wasn't for yourself. But I knew you would go." <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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