"The devil it does," I grunted.

He gave me another of his infectious smiles.

"Would ye like another bath in the mornin', sor, before breakfast?" he inquired, as he was leaving.

I could not bear to disappoint the little fellow any more.

"Yes," I replied.

Quarter of an hour later, I was lying on my back in the upper berth, gazing drowsily into the white-enamelled ceiling two feet overhead; happy in the reborn sensations of cleanliness, relaxation and satisfaction; loving my enemies as well, or almost as well, as I loved my friends. I could not get the little steward's advice out of my head. In a jumbled medley, "Out West,--out West,--out West," kept floating before my brain. "The Pacific Coast.--Home climate, only better.--A new country.--A young man's country.--Wild and free.--It's about as far away as ye can get,--as ye can get,--can get,--can get."

The rumbling of the cargo trucks, the hoa.r.s.e "lower away" of the quartermaster, the whirr of the steam winch and the lapping of the water against the boat,--all intermingled, then died away and still farther away, until only the quietest of these sounds remained,--the lapping of the sea and "Canada,--Canada,--Canada." They kept up their communications with me, sighing and singing, the merest murmurings of the wind in a sea sh.e.l.l:--soothing accompaniments to my unremembered dreams.

CHAPTER VII

K. B. Horsfal, Millionaire

When I awoke, the sun was streaming through the porthole upon my face.

It was early morning,--Sat.u.r.day morning I remembered.

From the thud, thud, of the engines and the steady rise and fall, I knew we were still at sea. I stretched my limbs, feeling as a G.o.d must feel balancing on the topmost point of a star; so refreshed, so invigorated, so buoyant, so much in harmony with the rising sun and the freshness of the early day, that, to be exact, I really had no feeling.

I sprang to the floor of my cabin and dressed hurriedly in my anxiety to be on deck; but, at the door, I encountered my little Irish steward.

He eyed me suspiciously, as if I had had intentions of evading my morning ablution,--so I swallowed my impatience, grabbed a towel and made leisurely for the bathroom, where I laved my face and hands in the cold water, remained inside for a sufficiently respectable time, then ran off the water and, finally, made my exit and clambered on deck.

As I paced up and down, enjoying the beauties of the fast narrowing firth, I no longer felt in doubt as to my ultimate destination. My subconscious self, aided and abetted by the Irish steward, had already decided that for me:--it was Canada, the West, the Pacific.

Soon after I had breakfasted, we reached the Tail of the Bank, and so impatient was I to be on my long journey that I bade good-bye to my little Irishman at Greenock, leaving him grinning and happy in the knowledge that I was taking his advice and was bound for the Pacific Coast.

In forty minutes more, I left the train at Glasgow and started in to a hurried and moderate replenishing of my wardrobe, finishing up with the purchase of a travelling bag, a good second-hand rifle and a little ammunition.

I dispensed with my knapsack by presenting it to a newsboy, who held it up in disgust as if it had been a dead cat. Despite the fact that I was now on my own resources and would have to work, nothing could induce me to part with my golf clubs. They were old and valued friends. Little did I imagine then how useful they would ultimately prove.

At the head office of the steamship company, I inquired as to the best cla.s.s of travelling when the traveller wished to combine cheapness with rough comfort; and I was treated to the cheering news that there was a rate war on between the rival Trans-Atlantic Steamship Companies and I could purchase a second-cabin steamboat ticket for six pounds, while a further eight pounds, thirteen shillings and four-pence would carry me by Colonist, or third cla.s.s, three thousand miles, from the East to the Far West of Canada.

I paid for my ticket and booked my berth then and there, counted out my remaining wealth,--ten pounds and a few coppers,--and my destiny was settled.

With so much to tell of what befell me later, I have neither the time nor the inclination to detail the pleasures and the discomforts of a twelve days' trip by slow steamer across a storm-swept Atlantic, battened down for days on end, like cattle in the hold of a cross-channel tramp; of a six days' journey across prairie lands, in a railway car with its dreadful monotony of unupholstered wooden seats and sleeping boards, its stuffiness, its hourly disturbances in the night-time in the shape of noisy conductors demanding tickets, incoming and outgoing travellers and shrieking engines; its dollar meals in the dining car, which I envied but could not afford; its well-nigh unlightable cooking stoves and the canned beef and pork and beans with which I had to regale myself en route.

Jaded, travel-weary and grimy, I reached the end of my journey. It was late in the evening. I tumbled out of the train and into the first hotel bus that yawned for me, and not once did I look out of the window to see what kind of a city I had arrived at.

I came to myself at the entrance to a magnificent and palatial hotel; too much so, by far, I fancied, for my scantily-filled purse. But I was past the minding stage, and I knew I could always make a change on the morrow, if so be it a change were necessary.

And then I began to think,--what mattered it anyway? What were a few paltry sovereigns between one and poverty? Comforting thought,--a man could not have anything less than nothing.

I registered, ordered a bath, a shave, a haircut, a jolly good supper and a bed; and, oh! how I enjoyed them all! Surely this was the most wonderful city in the world, for never did bath, or shave, or supper, or bed feel so delicious as these did.

I swooned away at last from sheer pleasure.

The recuperative powers of youth are marvellously quick. I was up and out to view the city almost as soon as the sun was touching the snow-tipped tops of the magnificent mountain peaks which were miles away yet seemed to stand sentinels at the end of the street down which I walked. I was up and out long ere the sun had gilded the waters of the broad inlet which separated Vancouver from its baby sister to the north of it.

The prospect pleased me; there was freedom in the air, expanse, vastness, but,--it was still a city with a city's artifices and, consequently, not what I was seeking. I desired the natural life; not the roughness, the struggle, the matching of crafty wits, the throbbing blood and the straining sinews,--but the solitude, the quiet, the chance for thought and observation, the wilds, the woods and the sea.

As I returned to breakfast, I wondered if I should find them,--and where.

In the dining-room, during the course of my breakfast,--the first real breakfast I had partaken of in Canada,--my attention was diverted to a tall, well-groomed, muscular-looking man, who sat at a table nearby.

He looked a considerable bit on the sunny side of fifty. He was clean shaven, his hair was black tinged with grey, and his eyes were keen and kindly.

Every time I glanced in his direction, I found him looking over at me in an amused sort of way. I began to wonder if I were making some breach of Canadian etiquette of which I was ignorant. True, I had eaten my porridge and cream without sprinkling the dish with a surface of sugar as he had done; I had set aside the fried potatoes which had been served to me with my bacon and eggs;--but these, surely, were trivial things and of no interest to any one but myself.

At last, he rose and walked out, sucking a wooden toothpick. With his departure, I forgot his existence.

After I had breakfasted, I sought the lounge room in order to have a look at the morning paper and, if possible, determine what I was going to do for a living and how I was going to get what I wanted to do.

I was buried in the advertis.e.m.e.nts, when a genial voice with a nasal intonation, at my elbow, unearthed me.

It was my observer of the dining-room. He had seated himself in the chair next to mine.

"Say! young man,--you'll excuse me; but was it you I saw come in last night with the bag of golf clubs?"

I acknowledged the crime.

He laughed good-naturedly.

"Well,--you had courage anyway. To sport a golfing outfit here in the West is like venturing out with breeches, a walking cane and a monocle.

n.o.body but an Englishman would dare do it. Here, they think golf and cricket should be bracketed along with hopscotch, dominoes and tiddly-winks; just as I used to fancy baseball was a glorified kids'

game. I know better now."

I looked at him rather darkly.

"Oh!--it's all right, friend,--it takes a man to play baseball, same as it takes a man to play golf and cricket. Golfing is about the only vice I have left. Why, now I come to think of it, my wife clipped a lot of my vices off years ago, and since that my daughter has succeeded in knocking off all the others,--all but my cigars, my c.o.c.ktails and my golf. I'm just plumb crazy on the game and I play it whenever I can.

Maybe it's because I used to play it when I was a little chap, away back in England years and years ago."

"I am glad you like the game," I put in. "It is a favourite of mine."

"I play quite a bit back home in Baltimore," he continued, "that's when I'm there. My clubs arrived here by express yesterday. You see, it's like this;--I'm off to Australia at the end of the week, on a business trip,--that is, if I get things settled up here by that time. I am crossing over from there to England, where I shall be for several months. England is some place for golf, so I'm going to golf some, you bet.

"I'm not boring you, young friend?" he asked suddenly.

"Not a bit," I laughed. "Go on,--I am as interested as can be."

"I believe there's a kind of a lay-out they call a golf course, in one of the outlying districts round here. What do you say to making the day of it? You aren't busy, are you?" he added.

"No! no!--not particularly," I answered. I did not tell him that in a few days, if I did not get busy at something or other, I should starve.