Explore "Carson of Red River" by Harold Bindloss on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Ten days after Kit left the tank he got down at a quiet station in the North of England. The train rolled on across a bridge, and by contrast with the trains in Canada, he thought it ridiculously small. A few country people crossed the platform, and a farmer's gig and a battered car waited at the gate. Although Kit had telegraphed from Liverpool, the Netherhall car had not arrived and he saw nobody he knew.
Putting his bag and coat on a bench he looked about. The evening was cold, and in the west yellow light shone behind lead-colored clouds. Bleak moors, in dark silhouette, cut the ominous glow; a flooded river brawled under the railway bridge, and the road that went up-hill was wet. At the top of the hill a ragged firwood loomed indistinctly in rolling mist. Kit smiled. It was summer in the north, and all he saw threatened storm.