OUR MR. RIB PART I.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXII, Issue 38, 22 September 1904, Page 23

OUR MR. RIB PART I.

Before the six days' journey from Montreal to Vancouver we had newer seen the happy-facad young man "whtf had. the berth next to ours in the sleepingr-car. He came aboard at Ottawa, I think, tor soon after we left there Edith saixi to me : ' Qur youttig neighrjor in front is going West on a hkintin'g trip, I fancy. See his gun-case and rods. That's a "book otn fibbing i<n the strap of his mackintosh, and he has all tihe little illustrated railway books about JNapigpm and 'Alaska.' We noticed, too,, that he appeared to scan with keen interest every stream, and lake that we passed. In fact, Eidifh najmed him ' Young Nimrod,' although only tio me, of course ; and as tihe days of the journey passed we several times lamMsed ourselves by speculating where he liivjed and why he was going West. No dlmibt we were more given to curiosity of this kinjd than old tourists*. For this was qur first arid only joupiey across the continent^ in fact, it was o>ur wed. ding trip. We were going to Alaska, and then home by way of Portland, Oregon, and the Yellowstone Park. We did not actually spea<k with the young man till wo wqre near B'anfl ; attd we never, even at the end of it ajl,, fully learned hii* name. He rrjentiondd it, indeed,, blut neit/her of us quite caught it — something like Rib or Ribb, a queer sort of name , but I did not like to ask him again, although IDdith s>aid I should have dome so. After we heard him speak he seemed a little different and older, lie talked well and spoke of the bridges as if he were a civil engineer ; but all along we had thought- that he could not possibly be more than eighteen years old. That, I imagine, was because he had such a happy, laughing face. He looked very young, an/d was on "the alert; for everything. The accident which led to our adventkire was nothing very serious. It occurred in the Selkirk Mountains. A greati fir tree had been blown down, and its top had fallen across the rails. As a curve hid it from view till too late for the driver to stop his train, the locojnotive was derailed, and with it the express and baggage cars. On ftoiing out we found the engine on the upper sklc of the track. If it had gone' off on the other side theie might have been trouble, for so far as I could see there wa,a nothing to keep the whole train from rolling down into the valley, a thousand feet below. The conductor thought a\ c should be delayed for two or three hours, but experienced passengers declared that it would probably be six. No bold y appeared to care •very much about the delay. The mountain scenery Avas grand, amd the car porter said that there was plenty of ga/rn,o thereabouts. lie stood on the car platform and pointed across to tlic opposite mourn tain, where he told us he had seen eight mountain-goats a fortnight previously, when the train passed. i Panthers, too ' ' said hq. ' You ought to hicVar 'cm yell nightis, wheii our train goes through and wlnsitlcs !■' How) much of this the porter was inventing, just to astonish, us, I could not say. I am no hunter myself , and, anyway, a man is not likely to care much for hunting or fishing during his honeymoon. Edith and I got out and walked back along "the track tlo enjoy the scenery. After the wrecking-train came to put our locomotive black on the rails, twelve or fifteen ■of us- walked on ahead and climbed on the roof of oiie of the great snow-sheds— a spleitdid place for a promenade. We went on for nearly or quite a mile, eruoyin<j; the s'uperlb views. We were really sorry when a brakeman came after us, to say that they were ready to go onr— after ai 'delay of only two hours. Ila^qning bark, we took our places in the car, ?n,d then wo heard the porter say to the conductor, ' Dey's all here, all dcy Marie Antoinettes ' — the name of our car — ' but the young gent'man in sixteen.' ' Wheire did he go ? ' asked the conductor. ' Can't say for sure,' replied the porter . ' Took his e;>un an' started o,ut. Tble him not to go too far Tole him we wouldn't be stavin' bee long. But he's one ob dem yoiung gcnti'mcn dats all for huntin'.' 'IWlhy, it's dur Mr. Rib \ ' exclaimed Edith, witih an anxious glance at his. seat. ' Oomc to think of it, he did not go with the rest of us.' The conductor had the whistle blowtfi again— three toots at a time— and shortly after again and yet again. But otur Mr Rib did not appear. Then two break:nen begart shouts fo* him, thinking that possibly he might not understand the whistle. The porter thought he had heard v a gun fireld (iow ' n in he valI(? y-.

The Qoftdujctar at last lost patience. ' I cannot hold my Drain, here all the afternoon for this young, map: to h^nt goats ! ' he exclaimed, with indignation. 'H? wag warned. If he does not show up in hve miptites more he will have to foot it to Glacier House and take tomorrow's tram on.' *- Ser/ve hum right,' several said. ' Gofld lesson lor him . ' Edith and I were not a little concerned about nun, however There lay all his things in the seat ; even his, checks were sticking in. the back of the cushion. • Why, I Uhink it is dreadful to go of! and leave him here in such a wild place ! What if something has happened to hum ? ' Edith said to me. ' What if he !has sihot rrimself ? ' ' That's not likely,' I replied. 'He has probably, seen glame, and kept on after it.' *> Perhaps he has got losit, then ! ' cried Edith. 11 Why, 1 call it cold-blooded to go off ajud lto'ave Mm like this ! Arthur, we musn't do it ! Somebody must stay and find, him.' » 1 had never seen Edith so much in earnest before. In fact), we had then been acquainted only about a year m all, and of course we did not know each, other quite so well as we now do. "Vo.ung married people always ha,ve siome things to learn of each other's .traits and ways. ' But, Edith,' I argued, ' we do not kiuw much about this Mr. Rib. Like as not he meant to stay oVci and hunt, and take the train to-morrow.' ' On, Arthur ! ' exclaimed Edith, pointing to the young mian's things in the seat. 'Is that likely ? You know it isn't.' I had to admit that it was not likely, and I felt c.onperned tor him, too ; but I did not see what we could do about it. The train was clearly on the point of smarting. ' Oh, dear ! what shall we do ? What 'shall we do?' Edit'ht cried, for just then we heard the air brake go off, s-s-s-s**z ;' She flew toward the car door, and I jumped up and ran oftoi her. The ,porter fried to interpose. l Train just goin', mis.s\,' he said. ' Cayn't get off now.' But Edith was past him and on the rear platform when I oKertook her. 1 Yom are mot eomg to get of! ! ' I exclaimed, amazed. ' Fldith, I won't let you get of! ! The train is starting ! It has started ! Edith, I won't let you get oft i ' Then I had to learn suddenly I/he limitation of my matrimonial authority. Edith had got off ! Nat/urally I jumped after her. * My dear girl,' I said, with assumed calmness, ' you are 'e.xcited. This isn't called for. We must get on the ear again.' ' A'rthlur,' said she, Riving me such a look as I had never seen on her face befoic, ' I wouldn't leave any huin'ah "being behind in this cowardly way. What if it were ylou ? Why, he is only a boy— and inexperienced. lle may have shot himself with liis gun or be lost. Tlhi'nk of his family— and we were going to leave him here ! Arthur, Wave you a heart ? ' I had thought that I had one. Moreover, Edith had never s'poiken to me in this way before. But I had pride, too ; apd it was very embarrassing, for by this tune t/hc rear platform of the train, which !had stopped a few feet away, was crowded with our fellow-passeng-ers, and 1 there were some very broad smiles oft the faces of sevdral of the men. The conductor, who. had seem Edi'tih anld me alight and had stopped the train, ran back along the embankment. ' Cannot hold the train longer, madam ! ' he said, positively. But Edith's resolution was taken. ' I sjhouid never feel ugh't about it,' s-he said. ' Something has happened to him. Arthur, if he can walk to Glacier I House we can I'm a famous walker. I may be in the wrong, but oblige me, won't you ? ' ' Certainly, Edith,' I replied ; and I called to the port or to put all our hand-baggage and wraps off at Glacier House-, to be called for. ' Very well,' commented tihe conductor, grimly ; but he wias not a little staggered by the sftjua^ion j^reed on him. ' I vet me see your tickets.' He hastily >"' stopovered" them fox the next train, and again to go ahead, muttering audibly as he did so : l If tfifct was my wife, I'd pick her up and put her on the car.' Of course that was nmne of his business, nor did it concern the smiling passengers on the rear platform. It was purely Edith' s affair arid mine ; and it was my business t)o strand by hex and defend whatever she did— so it appeared to me during the honeymoon. But the situation was new to me and exceedingly sudden, a!nd I felt nettled that Bdith did not heed my judgment in the matter.

We s'tlood and watched the train move away, and then I said, ' YWat are we to d*o next, Edith ? \ou axe m coinima-'nld, I sec.' 1 Wo are Vo {tod Mr. Rib,' she replied, confidently. 'I think he i« lost, or else has met' with an accident.' ' Thia^ is -quite possible,' S'&id I. ' S\nll, it we go into the woods in search ol him, he may come back to tho railroad while we are away, and go on to Glacier Hoiuse. In s'.ueh a case we should not find him, and s-'hojultl 'not 1-now that ho had found him/self ' ' That is tiUe,' rep-hod E-dilh. ' One of us will have to remain hcic, for naturally, if he comes back, he will come back here first of all.' ' But I domt know about leaving you here alone, Edith,' said I. 'Some wild animal might come along. Tho porter says this range is infestod by painthers,. ' '< Then I certainly musn't let you go off alone into the woods, Arthur ' ' cried Edith. "' Why, you might be attacked by tihem I—and1 — and you have no gun.' 'We have no arms of any sort,' I replied. ' Wnat we do nnust be done with our bare hands But I think I can put you in a safe place on the roof of tdie snow shed. Then you will see him if he comes to the tiack.' ' But> I-m'u-st not let you go off alone,' Edith insisted. ' You might get lost, too.' 1 Well, t/hcxi, it would seem that there is nothing we oari db T how we are here,' I rejoined, with some loss of patience. " Uh, but wo must do something ' ' Edith exclaimed. IWo aro going to do something ' Now that the tram is g(-ne and everything is so still, we might shout again. Perhaps he will hear and answer.' ' I'm afraid we can hardly hope to out-shout those brakemem,' said I ' Oh, but I can call much louder,' replied Edith , and when we had again climbed up on the snow-shed ."-he proved the truth of her statement by sending forth a note which wrike a far, clear echo from the Ilermiti-side ,Wo listened Edith repeated her far-reaching so-hoo-oo-oo ' And immediately, after the faint echoes were bo'i^ne back to us, miles away, we heard the \ery distant ropjort of a gun. ,' There, he's fired off his gun ' ' cried Edith, triumphantly ' llvi was lost, iust as I feared,' and she sent forth another operatic note. 'Again we Uston-ed , and after many seconds the Ilor-mit-sijde returned the faintest of far-off silvery replies. Then a moment later a second distinct report was borne to our ears from down in the wooded valley. .' It's he i ' cried Edith ' And now he 'will come baste. towArd tThe sound of our voices. He cannot remain lost if we 1-o-ep calling.' Jler '\iew seemed not improbable, and we shouted in tmfh For some time, walking back and forth on tihe ioof of the Rinow-shcd. As if 'in response to our halloos, the report o f b. rfim came up at intervals, from far down the xm ley. It r-oon became apparent, however, that the last- of tho^e rounrts was no nearer than I/he fir.st. ' Ho certainly is not comrng to us,' I said ' 1 linn I am af-raitt he is hurt,' Edith lcjoined ' Still, it js (Wife possible, Edith, that the person firing is not Mi Rib, but some hunter, responding bccauso ho thinks from our cries that we are the' ones lost,' T unest c-d But after a \cry thoughtful look at me Edith said, ' No, J, .think it is our Mr. Rib, ami that he has- met, with Isome accident and cannot come to us.' ' You stay here en the shed, then, and I will go and find inni,' I said. ' You can shout every second minute if you fear, my getting. r 1054,.' "Well, "but do be carjrfiil !■ ' cried TCdiMi, earnestly clutdimg my hand. '-Why, no ' ' she callcjd after me, as I wain getting down Trom the roof. ' This is foolish If he 'cannot walk, you could not bring him back alone. I had better go, along with you/ atnd she promptly prepared to do so. ' But it is a fearfully steep, rough place \' ' It, wou'd be a waste of time for me to stay here,' she sftid; and came down from the snow-sheti after mo ' Arthur, you know I am strong. If we hajve to bring ttliat bny up T shall do my part.' It >s re aspiring for a, young man to feel that the L'irl wl'oum he has 'marxie'd is; brave and efficient, also that sho will sit and by him in emergencies , yet it was not without, a sense of misgiving that I aUowed Edith to accompany me down into that gorge. She was not dressed Epr it, more than myself. She even had her red par asm 1 in her hand, and tihe place pro\cd to be an utter tangle of evergreen, dry brush, rotting tree Itfuriks ' "sfantiing among great rtafcs as large as