CHAPTER XI
In the construction of the railroad to Summit Lake the speed and efficiency of the R. C. & L. Co’s organization excelled any past effort.
The land-clearing outfit arrived the evening after Andy’s party and began work on that portion of the right-of-way that skirted the west shore of the lake. Like a swath of destruction, the ground became covered with the litter and wreckage of blasted trees—noble trees that had stood for centuries like silent sentinels guarding the limpid blue lake lapping gently at their feet.
For two days Connie had been no nearer than the bluff. Seated astride her horse, she now gazed in startled awe on the invasion of her loved valley. On the third day, drawn by a horrible fascination, she ventured timidly into the valley and watched with wide eyes the advance of the pygmy army, who, with such tiny tools as the axe and saw, crashed to earth mammoth trees that seemed as enduring as the mountains on which they stood.
The steam-shovel roared and crashed in the distance as it ploughed deep gashes in the green hillside, men shouted, heavy wagons banged over the rough road, and fearful blasts shook the air. Through all this tumult the men worked in a frenzy of haste.
A giant fir—a veritable king of the forest, towering in regal glory high above its mates—stood near the water’s edge. Around the massive bole of this tree Connie had played since her earliest recollection. She had endowed this half-god with a living personality, to whom she had confided all her childish fancies and aspirations. The corrugated bark bore numerous bits of nursery rhymes, and her name was etched deep with a sharp knife in several places. With a lump in her throat she saw the “fallers” move to the foot of this great tree and gaze aloft with appraising eyes. Then sinewy arms sent shining axes through the thick bark to form the “scarf,” which to Connie appeared as a gaping white wound on the dark grey trunk.
As the cross-cut saw with its rasping clang ate its way slowly through the tough fibre of the great titan, Connie made inarticulate sounds in her throat and for a moment covered her eyes. As the wedge was applied, a great shudder passed through the tree. Connie held her breath. The tower of dark branches at the top nodded as if in fond farewell. There was a pause, then with a rending and tearing crash it fell to earth with a thunder of sound that filled the valley with a wild tumult of echoes. A whistle blew shrilly, and the men picked up their coats and walked toward their camp.
For a short space Connie stood motionless. Then, with a last long look at the fallen monarch, she sighed deeply and turned to the trail.
That night at dusk she came again. Donald came upon her as she crouched, a forlorn figure, by the prostrate tree. Pointing to her fallen friend, whose top was torn and splintered, she told Donald in halting sentences of the day’s disaster. As he noted the grave face and trembling lips, he wondered at the depth of feeling in one so young. His soft words of sympathy brought unseen tears to her eyes, and she dared not trust her voice in answer. He spoke to her cheerily on other subjects, but could not shake her melancholy mood.
Even the night calm was ravaged by the thunder of blasts. A lurid wall of flame shot high in the air as a rocky portion of the shoreline was rent asunder, and huge boulders plunged into the calm lake, sending up pyramids of water to break in noisy waves on the shore.
Donald enjoyed the unusual experience of witnessing the construction of a railroad, but he understood now why the old trapper had wagged his grey head sadly when he heard the clamour of striving men and machinery creeping up from the south.
The night work had ceased, and a welcome silence settled over the shattered forest. Lambent stars sparkled and twinkled in the high, clear air, with colours that changed from orange to blue and back again. The eastern sky brightened, the glow gradually spread through the heavens, then the moon came slowly over the towering snow-peaks, flooding the valley with light. The fallen tree took on a ghost-like appearance in the moon’s radiance.
Then an uncanny thing happened. Suddenly from a clear sky, without a moment’s warning, a dark and ominous cloud obscured the moon’s light. Connie came quickly to her feet and gazed with startled eyes at this strange phenomenon. The air took on a sudden chill. A quick, strong wind swept up the hill. From the swaying tree-tops there came a moaning like a wailing requiem for the dead—so much like the human voice that Donald shivered.
To Donald the darkening moon and the sighing trees were a coincidence, but to this child of nature, who had been reared in loneliness where rivers roared and mountains loomed, and who understood so intimately the wild things of the forest, it was a manifestation of sorrow by the God of Nature. With her breast heaving tumultuously, she leaned against the mammoth tree and pressed her cheek to its rough bark. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” she whispered brokenly.
As if in answer to her words of compassion, the veil suddenly lifted from the moon and the wind ceased. Donald shook himself. “Rather weird,” he said, with a quick, nervous laugh. He turned to find that he was alone.
* * * * *
Events moved swiftly that week.
King’s report was favourable to Donald’s plan, and word came that electrical equipment for the Summit Mill had been ordered.
At Donald’s invitation Connie came to the station to witness the arrival of the first train. As the awesome black monster, with whistle screaming and bell clanging, roared through the rock cut at the south end of the lake and bore down upon them, Connie gasped in wonder. As the train came to a hissing stop she shrank against the walls of the building, a startled look in her eyes. She flushed at the men’s hearty laughter.
The train was loaded with working-men, who with their bundles of blankets overflowed the small platform. A kitchen-car and a sleeping-car were shunted to the side-track which would be their home until the erection of the big dining-hall.
Donald was given charge of constructing the dam, Gillis started the lumbering operations, while Douglas moved to the Cheakamus Mill. Andy was to be boss of the kitchen staff, and was kept busy overseeing the work of interior construction.
A portable mill was fast at work turning out timbers for the big plant, and carpenters and millwrights worked night and day. An American expert came with the machinery to superintend the installation.
With the new task set for him there descended on Donald a deep sense of responsibility. Unlike the others, he worked no regular hours. A feeling of gratitude toward Robert Rennie for the confidence displayed in him kept him at top speed; his energy and resource seemed inexhaustible. From the time his alarm clock—that harsh, brutal little destroyer of sleep—shrilled its call at daylight until darkness filled the valley, he stuck to his task.
One week earlier than the time allotted he reported the dam as finished.
* * * * *
Robert Rennie came with Renwick and King for a short trip of inspection, and as he was leaving he spoke a kindly word in commendation of Donald’s work.
The Summit Mill was to be modern in every respect, lighted with electricity and provided with modern plumbing and hot shower-baths. The white steel beds of the dormitory were clothed in clean white sheets and pillow-cases. There was no analogy in this perfection to the ordinary logging-camp.
For hours Donald followed the expert through the mill, while the latter explained and tested the different motors.
Once a week Robert Rennie came to the mill, taking a keen interest in all phases of its construction, and invariably he went away with a pleased smile on his face.
“Never saw the old man so worked up,” commented Gillis. “Guess he’d like to come up here and run her himself.”
Renwick was still sceptical. For no apparent reason he had taken a dislike to Donald. “It’s just ’cause you and I are such good friends,” explained Gillis. “Me and him get on like a couple of strange bull-dogs.”
When the huge three-storied mill, with its dry kiln, lumber skids, conveyor shed and railroad spurs, was ready for operation, and each machine had been tested, Robert Rennie arrived with other officials of the Company. Next morning Donald’s heart thumped as the mill’s big whistle sent out its first call to work and the men filed eagerly to their posts.
The logs were sprayed with huge water-jets as they came up the chain-haul to clean them of gravel and débris. The electric “nigger” spun them about and threw them into place with a thud that shook the