THE GIRL ON THE PLATFORM The Vancouver express was running in the dark through the woods west of Fort William.

After the rain of early summer, wash-outs that undermine the track are numerous and the express had been delayed.

Now, however, the road was good and the engineer drove his big locomotive with throttle wide open.

Black smoke blew about the rocking cars, cinders rattled on the roofs, and showers of sparks sped past the windows.

The wheels roared on shaking trestles and now and then awoke an echoing clang of steel, for the company was doubling the track and replacing the wooden bridges by metal.
This was George Lister's business, and he lounged in a corner of a smoking-compartment, and rather drowsily studied some calculations.