"And behind?"

"Three or four, my lady."

"And how long are we likely to be kept?"

"Can't say. They've been at her ten hours. She don't generally let
anyone over her under a good twenty--or twenty-four."

"Yerkes!--what will Mr. Gaddesden say? And it's so damp and horrid."

Elizabeth looked at the outside prospect in dismay. The rain was
drizzling down. The passengers walking up and down the line were in
heavy overcoats with their collars turned up. To the left of the line
there was a misty glimpse of water over a foreground of charred stumps.
On the other side rose a bank of scrubby wood, broken by a patch of
clearing, which held a rude log-cabin. What was she to do with
Philip all day?

Suddenly a cow appeared on the patch of grass round the log hut. With a
sound of jubilation, Yerkes threw down his dusting brush and rushed out
of the car. Elizabeth watched him pursue the cow, and disappear round a
corner. What on earth was he about?

Philip had apparently not yet been called. He was asleep, and Yerkes had
let well alone. But he must soon awake to the situation, and the problem
of his entertainment would begin. Elizabeth took up the guide-book and
with difficulty made out that they were about a hundred miles from
Winnipeg. Somewhere near Rainy Lake apparently. What a foolishly
appropriate name!