This eBook was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net>
[NOTE: There is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of thefile for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making anentire meal of them. D.W.]
By Gilbert Parker
SHON McGANN'S TOBOGAN RIDE
"Oh, it's down the long side of Farcalladen Rise,
With the knees pressing hard to the saddle, my men;
With the sparks from the hoofs giving light to the eyes,
And our hearts beating hard as we rode to the glen!
"And it's back with the ring of the chain and the spur,
And it's back with the sun on the hill and the moor,
And it's back is the thought sets my pulses astir!
But I'll never go back to Farcalladen more."
Shon McGann was lying on a pile of buffalo robes in a mountain hut,—anAustralian would call it a humpey,—singing thus to himself with his pipebetween his teeth. In the room, besides Shon, were Pretty Pierre, JoGordineer, the Hon. Just Trafford, called by his companions simply "TheHonourable," and Prince Levis, the owner of the establishment. Not thatMonsieur Levis, the French Canadian, was really a Prince. The name wasgiven to him with a humorous cynicism peculiar to the Rockies. We havelittle to do with Prince Levis here; but since he may appear elsewhere,this explanation is made.
Jo Gordineer had been telling The Honourable about the ghost of GuidonMountain, and Pretty Pierre was collaborating with their host in thepreparation of what, in the presence of the Law—that is of the North-West Mounted Police—was called ginger-tea, in consideration of theprohibition statute.
Shon McGann had been left to himself—an unusual thing; for everyone hada shot at Shon when opportunity occurred; and never a bull's-eye couldthey make on him. His wit was like the shield of a certain personage ofmythology.
He had wandered on from verse to verse of the song with one eye on thecollaborators and an ear open to The Honourable's polite exclamations ofwonder. Jo had, however, come to the end of his weird tale—for weird itcertainly was, told at the foot of Guidon Mountain itself, and in aregion of vast solitudes—the pair of chemists were approaching "thesupreme union of unctuous elements," as The Honourable put it, and in thesilence that fell for a moment there crept the words of the singer:
"And it's down the long side of Farcalladen Rise,
And it's swift as an arrow and straight as a spear—"
Jo Gordineer interrupted. "Say, Shon, when'll you be through thattobogan ride of yours? Aint there any end to it?"
But Shon was looking with both eyes now at the collaborators, and he sangsoftly on:
"And it's keen as the frost when the summer-time dies,
That we rode to the glen and with never a fear."
Then he added: "The end's cut off, Joey, me boy; but what's a toboganride, annyway?"
"Listen to that, Pierre. I'll be eternally shivered if he knows what atobogan ride is!"
"Hot shivers it'll be for you, Joey, me boy, and no quinine over the baraither," said Shon.
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