wilderness, the wide stretch of gleaming water running back among the
firs, and the swarm of jaded immigrants splashing bare-footed along the
beach. Their harsh voices and hoarse laughter broke discordantly on
the silence of the woods.

After a while an elderly man, in badly-fitting clothes and an old
wide-brimmed hat, sauntered up with the girl George had noticed, and
stopped to survey the passengers.

"A middling sample; not so many English as usual," he remarked. "If
they keep on coming in as they're doing, we'll get harvest hands at a
reasonable figure."

"All he thinks about!" Edgar commented, in a lowered voice. "That's
the uncivil old fellow who smokes the vile leaf tobacco; he drove me
out of the car once or twice. It's hard to believe he's her father;
but in some ways they're alike."

"I can't help feeling sorry for them," the girl replied. "Look at
those worn-out women, almost too limp to move. It's hot and shaky
enough in our cars; the Colonist ones must be dreadful."

"Good enough for the folks who're in them; they're not fastidious,"
said the man.

They strolled on, and George felt mildly curious about them. The girl
was pretty and graceful, with a stamp of refinement upon her; the man
was essentially rugged and rather grim. Suddenly, however, a whistle
blast rang out, and George hurried toward the engine. It was beginning
to move when he reached it but, grasping a hand-rail, he clambered up.