Ladysmith news-budget. [volume] (Ladysmith, Rusk County, Wis.) 1907-1927, 1922-08-04
CHAPTER !.
a Bolt From the Blue.

December in New Manitoba. where the
forest though It chills the soil till
midsummer, yet shuts out the razor
edge Of the winds that make the prai-
RES, farther south, an icy inferno.
Here the bush. which had seemed
to stretch out illimitably, thinned into
bedraggled patches among the up
cropping rocks. A little farther and
1t began once more the break was like
a great, curving arm thrust into the
heart of IL, as II some giant fingers
had plucked up the trees in handsful
and scooped the foundation from the
frozen soil, and then had been with
drawn, leaving the imprints Of the
great finger-tips.
These finger-tips were huge sink
holes, sometimes filed with water, so
that they formed clear lakes; more
often sodden sponges Of decayed veg
etable matter, oozy, treacherous and
unstable. The f1nger-lines were the
circular ridges marking the subsistence
Of the mud. The thumb was Big Mus
keg, which the two men who stood On
the top of the humpbacked ridge
could see extended beneath them.
Big Muskeg, at this point less than
half a mile across, was everywhere on
unsounded depth. 1t curved and wound.
a river of ooZe now broadening into
chains Of lakes, now narrowing into
gullies; here and there crossed by
trails, but never stable, nowhere Of
fering firm foundation for the perma-
nent way of the Missatibi railroad.
The Missatibi was branch line,
feeding the new road that was push
ing northward toward the ports-to-be
on Hudson bay. 1t linked with 1t at
Clayton, whence it was being extended
eastward into virgin wilderness.
Even in the days when half a dozen
companies were pegging out ways for
lines that were to divert the wheat
north, Joe Bostock's line had been the
Joke of legislatures and financiers.
Those other lines that were being
built into Clayton passed through the
wheat-lands; Joe's line ran east out OF
Clayton into a wilderness. Joe BoStOck
had secured his capital, but he had no
competitors.
And slowly Missatibi, with its small
shareholders and limited means, had
gone ahead. The first location par
ties had cleared a road to Big Mus
keg. The rails had been laid half
way. But that was all, save for the
partly constructed shacks and build
ings for the workmen there. and the
sheds for the construction material
that had not yet been freighted In.
Joe standing with legs straddling
the top Of the ridge, turned to Wilton
Carruthers, the chief engineer Of the
company, with eyebrows arched and
humorous inquiry on his weather
beaten old face. There was no need
for speech at that moment, because
the mind Of each man dwelt on the
identical problem.
The two men had come east by dog
sleigh, accompanied by two half
breeds, Jean Passepartout and Papil-
lon, the one in charge Of the dogs, the
other carrying the transit-compass.
They had camped seven miles back on
the preceding evening. and had set out
at daybreak to survey the swamp
lands from the ridge. For the prob
lem which had suddenly risen up to
confront them ciamored for solution
before construction could be carried
forward, and on its solution depended
the future Of the Missatibi.
With the physical eye neither Joe
nor Carruthers could hope to accom-
pllsh anything. Wilton was seeking
inspiration, though he did not know 1t.
Theoretically he was endeavoring to
discern some place where foundation
might be coaxed above the unstable,
quaking surface with trestling and
crib-work, crossing that combined
the least possible deviation Of route
with no more than four-flfths Of one
per cent of grade and four degrees OF
curve.
Actually and unconsciously he was
seeking to interpret the natural con.
vulsion which had. in time immeasur.
ably remote, cloven the ridge Of the
land and set the swamp seeping into
the assure.
II he could read the meaning Of that
CONFUSION, understand the mind and
mood of the great Architect, he could
see, as IL clairvoyantly, just where the
Muskeg lay thinnest on the roots Of
the hills. where ballast would appear
the soonest above the sucking swamp
But he could read nothing.
Joe Bostock wrinkled his eyes
against the sunlight.
THAT'S what was thinking, VIII
ton," he said "But it's got to be done
Somebody'll build it some day II the
Missatibi doesn't"
That was the nearest speech to de
spair that Joe. invincible, exuberani
optimist that he was, had ever made
Weeks. months of rssurvey must en-