Explore "The Secret of the Reef" by Harold Bindloss on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The train was held up on its way to the Canadian frontier by a wash-out farther along the track. Devereux Clay stood in the noon sunshine talking to Osborne at a small wayside station while groups of impatient passengers strolled about the line, stopping now and then to glance at a gap in the somber firs where the rails gleamed in the strong sunshine; the engineer, leaning out from his cab, had his eyes turned in the same direction. There was, however, nothing to be seen but climbing trees, whose ragged spires rose one behind the other far up the steep hillside, and the fragrance the hot noon sun drew out from them mingled with the sharp smell of creosote from the ties. Except for the murmur of voices and the panting of the locomotive pump, it was very quiet in the narrow clearing, and the sound of falling water came up faintly from a deep hollow where a lake glittered among the firs.
Clay leaned against the agent's wooden shack, with his watch in his hand, for time was of value to him just then.