The Clio messenger. (Clio, Mich.) 1907-current, 1920-10-21

Since the face and form of Mary Allan
had first enraptured him in his little
backwoods school district, vast am
bition had possessed his SOUL and to-
day, which had seemed to be it's end,
he now knew TO be but Its beginning.
| The ready consent Of his betrothed to
share his life In the unknown wilder
ness between the Red river and the
Rocky mountains had been a tide
which, taken at Its flood, might well
lead him on to fortune. At the con-
clusion of his fall term he had re-
signed his position as teacher, and
with his small savings had set about
accommodating equipment essential to
the homesteader. Because his effects
were not enough TO I'll car he had
doubled up" with Tom Morrison. a
fine farmer whose worldly success had
been somewhat less than his deserts.
and who bravely hoped to mend his
broken fortunes where land might be
had for the taking.
So John Harris and his bride took
the passenger train from her city
home, while their goods and chattels,
save for their personal baggage, rum
bled on in box-car or crowded stol-
| idly into congested side-tracks as the
exigencies of traffic required,
AT junction point they were trans
| ferred from the regular passenger SER
vice to an immigrant train.
One or two Of the passengers had
| already made the trip to Manitoba,
and were now on the journey second
time. accompanied by their wives and
| families. These men were soon noted
as individuals of some moment; they
became the center of little knots Of
conversation, and their fellow-immi-
grants hung in reverent attention upon
every word from their lips.
Tell us about the crops" said one
OF the men passengers. "What like
wheat can We grow?"
Like corn" said the narrator, with
great elaboration. Heads like ears
o. corn. Wheat that grows so fast We
can hear 1t. Nothin' uncommon to
walk into wheat fields when they's
knee-high, an have to fight yer way
| out like a Jungle"
as the Injuns very big?' piped a
| little voice. MY pas go'n' to make
me bone-arrow so / can kill 'em all
up"
That's brave. soldier" said the
man, drawing the child to his knee.
But All know a better way to fight
Indians than with bows an arrows.
All fights 'em with flour an blankets
an badger-meat, an it's a long way
better
The child climbed up on the friend
ly knee and interested himself In the
great silver watch-chain that looped
convenient to his fingers. go on wifi
your story, man." he said. as listen
in"
And big Aleck McCrae forgot the i'm
migrants crowded around, forgot the
lurch Of the train and the window
glimpse of forests heavy-blanketed
with snow. as he plowed his fertile
imagination and spread a sudden har-
vest of wOnderment before the little
soul that chung to his great watch
chain.
And so the journey wore on. AS day
succeeded day to the monotonous rum
BILE of the car wheels the immigrants
became better acquainted and friend
ships took root that in after years
were to brave every storm Of adver-
sity and bloom forth in the splendid
community Of spirit and sacrifice
which particularly distinguished the
pioneers.
In the cold gray OF March morn
ing, when the sun had not yet dis
PEELED the mists of night, and the
fringing woods back from the Red
river loomed white and spectral
through the frost, they re-entered the
empire. and In a few minutes were de-
training at Emerson, the boundary
town and gateway to the prairies
which for 1000 miles stretched into
the mysteries OF the unknown.
Emerson was the gateway OF the
great invasion. The "farthest west
of rail communication, on the thresh-
old Of the prairie country, 1t seemed
the strategical point for the great city
which must arise with the settlement
and development Of the fertile king
dom OF territory lying between the
Lake OF the Woods and the Rocky
mountains, and between the forty
ninth parallel and the unknown north
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