the unglazed
windows of the decorated observation car which I knew well, but had never
expected to see there. Martin Lorimer waved his hand toward me as the
train stopped, my cousin Alice stood beside him smiling a greeting, and
with shame I remembered how long it was since I had sent news to her.

"Have you seen a ghost?" asked Harry. "You are a regular Don Juan. Who is
that dainty damsel you are honoring with such marked attention, to the
neglect of your lawful business. Don't you see the surveyor is beckoning
you?"

This was true, for, standing among a group of elderly men who I supposed
were railway magnates or guests of importance, the surveyor, to my
astonishment, called me by name.

"I have been looking for you all along the track," he said. "Must present
you to these gentlemen. We have been discussing your work."

Several of the party shook hands with me frankly, while the names the
surveyor mentioned were already well-known in Winnipeg and Montreal, and
have since become famous throughout the Dominion. One with gray hair and
an indefinable stamp of authority touched my shoulder with a friendly
gesture. "I have had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Lorimer before," he said.
"We have some business together, and expect you to join us in the opening
ceremony. Meantime, you will excuse me--Jardine, I'm thankful it is your
turn. There is evidently a deputation coming."

Preceded by tossing banners, and a band which made up in vigor what it
lacked in harmony, a procession approached the train, and its leader
commenced reading something awkwardly from a written paper in time to an
undercurrent of semi-ironical encouragement. I saw some of the visitors'
eyes twinkle at his sentiments, but for the most part they listened with
becoming gravity; and when a man with gold eyeglasses had suitably
replied, there was a wild scuffle for even a foothold on the train. One
musician smote another, who strove to oust him from a platform, with his
cornet, which promptly doubled in; the big drum rolled down a declivity
with its owner hurling back wild language in frantic chase of it; then the
locomotive snorted, and, with the bell clanging, it hauled the first train
into the wooden town amid the acclamations of the populace. After this I
had an opportunity for greeting my uncle, and we looked at each other with
mutual curiosity. Martin Lorimer seemed thinner and older. His hair was
freely sprinkled with white now, but his eyes were as ke