The Way of the Strong Part 57

"Go a step further," said the other. "It's that 'fourth,' we are talking about, who get rich and live on the efforts of the worker whom they sweat and crush into the very ground over which their automobiles roll. Put it in plain words, man. It is the worker, the poor wretch that just manages to sc.r.a.pe existence by grinding toil, who feeds the rich and makes possible the degrading luxury of their lives. And when the first hope of youth gets swamped by the grind of their labors, and they see their equally wretched wives and hungry children going without the barest necessities of life, and before them lies nothing but the dreary road of incessant toil, with no earthly chance of bettering themselves, then they grow desperate, and help to fill those h.e.l.ls of despair we call penitentiaries. That's what you've realized in prison."

Frank stared at the man. The force of his manner was such as to carry absolute conviction of his personal feelings upon this matter, feelings which also lay so deep in the heart of the ex-convict. He wondered at the strange chance which had brought him into contact with a man who shared these new feelings and beliefs of his. Could it be----?

"You believe that way, too?" he asked eagerly.

At that moment a waiter from the dining-car entered the coach.

"First call for dinner! First call for dinner!" He pa.s.sed down the car issuing his invitation in high, nasal tones.

The stranger fumbled in his waistcoat pockets, and, as the waiter pa.s.sed, he produced his card, and held it out toward his companion.

"Say," he observed, lapsing once more into his more genial manner.

"Guess you'll be yearning for a billet when you get along to Toronto.

Just keep that by you, and when you're needing one, come and look me up. We're always needing recruits for our work. I'll take it kindly if you'll eat with me right now."

Frank took the card and read the name on it--

MR. AUSTIN LEYBURN,

2012 Mordaunt Avenue, Toronto, Ont.

President of the Agricultural Helpers' Society of Canada.

Gen. Sec. Bonded Railroaders.

a.s.st.-Gen. Sec. a.s.sociated Freighters' Combine.

CHAPTER V

A YOUNG GIRL'S PURPOSE

With her determined little chin thrust into the palm of her hand, and her elbow propped upon the window ledge of the railroad car, Phyllis made a delightful picture of country simplicity. She was dressed in a plain gown of some soft, dark blue material, and flung back from her shoulders was a heavy, plaid-lined cape, a garment she had borrowed for the journey. On the seat in front of her was a well-worn suit case of cheap compressed cane. It had evidently seen much service, though such service could hardly have been given in the city world toward which she was speeding. Reposing on top of this was her black felt hat. Here, again, her western farm upbringing was evidenced. It was a mixture, contrived out of a man's prairie hat into something of that modern product affected by young girls, beneath which its wearer reveals little but nose and chin. It was Phyllis's "best," and she rather liked it.

But she was quite unconscious of the country brand she bore. She was at all times unconscious of herself, in spite of her youth. Yet she attracted a good deal of notice among her fellow-pa.s.sengers.

A commercial drummer had vainly striven for hours to attract her attention, his florid face set ready at a moment's notice to wreath itself into an engaging smile, should she chance to glance in his direction.

Then, too, a youth, in the company of an elderly female relative, had gone through a severe process of neck wringing, several seats in front of her, in the vain hope that her interest in the absurd fields of wheat through which they were pa.s.sing might abate in his favor.

Besides these it was a curious fact that this particular car demanded so much attention from the train crew. One official bore down on her, and, with unusual courtesy, asked her if he should open a window near her to cool the air. Having achieved his purpose of receiving smiling thanks, he added a few remarks, pa.s.sed on, and another came along and threatened pleasantly to close it, as he was sure she was in a draught.

A third brought her a pillow and refused to take money for it, the significance of which left her wholly unconscious.

But the guard. Well, the guard seemed to have nothing in the world to do but examine her ticket. The railroad officials certainly did their very best for her.

Through it all, the girl's whole interest seemed to lay in the wonderful cloth of gold spread over the world through which they were pa.s.sing. That and its tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs in the shape of farm houses, small settlements, townships just starting, verdant bluffs and gleaming rivers, all of which glided swiftly by, a delightful panorama before her wondering eyes, as the transcontinental mail swept across the prairie lands upon its east-bound journey.

It was all fresh to her, but none of it was new. She had been brought up in a corner of this very wheat world, so she knew it all. Sometimes it was grander and looked more prosperous, sometimes it was smaller and poorer. But the method of it was always the same.

Still, she was traveling abroad for the first time in her young life, and she wanted to see everything there was to see. Thus, she had traveled for more than two whole days, nor had she yet exhausted the resources of Canada's great granary. Indian Head, Moosejaw, Regina, Moosemin, Brandon, all these places, miles and miles apart, had vanished into the dim distance behind her, but still the cloth of golden wheat remained, as she knew it would remain until Winnipeg was reached.

Funds had not permitted her the luxury of a "sleeper," so she had faced the discomforts of long days and longer nights in the ordinary day car.

But with her heart set upon a definite purpose such things were no real hardships to Phyllis. Just now her one desire in life was to reach Winnipeg, so nothing else mattered.

It was nearly noon when the conductor of the train entered the car for perhaps the tenth time that morning. Phyllis saw him moving down the aisle, and, from force of habit, got her ticket ready. But the amiable man spared her this time. He hurried along toward her, and, with the sigh of an overworked man, dropped into the seat beside her suit case.

"Guess you'll soon be in Winnipeg, now," he observed, having learned her anxiety to reach her destination some twenty or thirty visits to her before.

Phyllis smiled, and her whole face lit up. The conductor grinned his pleasure at the sight.

"I'm so glad," the girl sighed. "Still, I've had a real pleasant journey," she added quickly. "You folks have been very kind to me."

The man's delight was written all over his face.

"Why, that's good of you. But 'tain't just nothin'. Gals travelin' on their lonesome, it ain't all pie for 'em. We just like to do our best--when they ain't on the grouch."

Phyllis had abandoned her study of the view.

"I haven't been a grouch, have I?" she demanded.

"Never in your life. Say--you couldn't grouch. 'Tain't your nature."

Phyllis became aware of the "drummer." His grin was in full blast. But she quickly ignored him.

"I s'pose you know Winnipeg well?" she hazarded to her companion, with some eagerness.

"Live there," the man replied, comprehensively.

"Ah, I'm glad. Maybe you know Grand Avenue?"

The man's eyes opened wide.

"Sure I know Grand Avenoo. That's where the big fellers live. All small houses. Sort o' Fifth Avenoo, Noo York." Then he grinned. "Say, you ain't figurin' on a hotel in Grand Avenoo?"

Phyllis flushed.

"Oh, no," she disclaimed hurriedly. "I just want to get there to--to see a lady who lives there."

The conductor nodded his understanding.

"Sure," he said. "Service. Domestic."

Phyllis's flush deepened.

"Oh, no," she cried. "I'm--I'm just on a visit."