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The passengers, weary and full of the mild excitement of their long struggle with storm and drift across half a continent, emerged from their snow-clad but very comfortable coaches and were eagerly taken in charge by waiting friends and watchful hotel runners. Sergeant Cameron waited till the crowd had gone, and then turning to Murchuk, he said, "You will be coming along with me, Murchuk.
Just as they arrived at the house of feasting, a cry, wild, weird and horrible, pierced through the uproar. The Interpreter stopped as if struck with a bullet. "My God!" he cried in an undertone, clutching the Sergeant by the arm, "My God! Dat terrible!" "What is it? What is the matter with you, Murchuk?" "You know not dat cry? No?" He was all trembling. "Dat cry I hear long ago in Russland.
It was a wearisome business, and to none more wearisome than to Interpreter Elex Murchuk, part of whose duty it is to be in attendance on the arrival of all incoming trains in case that some pilgrim from Central and Southern Europe might be in need of direction. For Murchuk, a little borderland Russian, boasts the gift of tongues to an extraordinary degree.
I am going to look after some of your friends." "My frients?" enquired Murchuk. "Yes, over at the colony yonder." "My frients!" repeated Murchuk with some indignation. "Not motch!" Murchuk was proud of his official position as Dominion Government Interpreter. "But I will go wit' you. It is my way."
"They do, eh? And how do you think their neighbours will be liking that sort of thing?" The Sergeant stood still to analyse this confused clamour. Above the thumping and the singing of the dancers could be heard the sound of breaking boards, mingled with yells and curses. "Murchuk, there is fighting going on." "Suppose," agreed the Interpreter, "when Galician man get married, he want much joy.
At the door stood Murchuk with the ambulance. "See a man run out here?" demanded the Sergeant. "You bet! He run like buck deer." "Why didn't you stop him?" cried the Sergeant. "Stop him!" replied the astonished Murchuk, "would you stop a mad crazy bull? No, no, not me." "Get that man inside to the hospital then. He won't hurt you," exclaimed the Sergeant in wrathful contempt.
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