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Updated: June 21, 2025
Despite the sleeping draught Burns had administered to Muskoka Jones, the unaccustomed clicking of the telegraph instruments had begun to arouse the big cowman. When finally, in climax, came the lightning whirr of the despatcher's excited response, he gasped into consciousness, blinked, and suddenly found himself sitting upright, staring open-mouthed at the spectacle before him.
He remembered me, for he ran out and grasped my knee and they pulled him away." When the first French explorers invaded the northwest, about the year 1615, the Wyandot Indians occupied the territory between Georgian Bay and the Muskoka Lakes in Ontario. These Frenchmen named the tribe Huron because of the manner in which they wore their hair.
Here the endless chain of jeweled lakes, the fairy islands floating on the dark waters, the rugged, barren rocks set in masses of soft greenery, and above all the wild spirit of freedom that pervaded this new beauty land, had enchanted the minister's tired soul. So, upon his return, he had declared in a tea-meeting speech at the church that Muskoka reminded him of Scotland.
The cowmen crowded forward, and peering over Muskoka's board shoulders, studied Wilson from head to foot with speechless scorn. Muskoka settled forward on his elbows. "Are you a real operator?" he inquired. In a voice that sounded foolish even to himself Wilson responded in the affirmative. "Actooal, real, male operator?" The cluster of bronzed faces guffawed loudly.
For since the coming of the rails they had regarded the station operator as a sort of social adjunct to the ranch the keeper of an open house of hospitality, their daily paper, the final learned authority on all matters of politics and sport. And if this latest change of operators had brought them Muskoka spoke again, and the worst was realized. "Well, you gal-faced little dude!"
"I guess he's doin' his best, Nathan Pilley," answered another man, stout and stocky, with bushy side whiskers flanking around a rubicund face, out of which stared two prominent blue eyes. "Oh, I reckon he is, Mr. Boggs. I have no word agin Hayes," replied Nathan Pilley, a North Ontario man, who, abandoning a rocky farm in Muskoka, had strayed to this far west country in search of better fortune.
Then in a moment he had cut Wilson free, and stretched him on the floor. It was Iowa broke the silence. Rising, with compressed lips he held toward Muskoka the butt of his pistol. "Here, shoot me with my own gun!" he said hoarsely. "I deserve it." Muskoka considered. "No," he decided at length. "Leave your gun as a present for the kid, and," turning and indicating the door, "git!"
"Why, to make it look like a put-up job of ours, of course, "said her brother. "And it was a put-up job, a good old Tory fake. But they didn't calculate on Bingham and Bingham's memory. Bingham happened to be in the committee room, and he recognized this fellow for a regular political tough from up Muskoka way, where they get six for a bottle of Canadian and ten if it's Scotch.
"I had a letter lately from some of my old neighbours in Muskoka, telling me of the conversion of a young man I had often spoken to and prayed for. I rejoice that my mother has given me up joyfully for Africa, and I am so glad she continues bright in the Lord. I am praying that I may have the privilege of seeing them all brought to Christ, before I leave for Africa, I cease not to pray for you.
It is not a bad bell for Muskoka, and it has a most curious effect on this white, cold silent world of snow and blue shadows. The owner of the house, who is also the builder of it, stands a few moments listening. There is only the twitter of the snowbirds to listen to, then the bell; more snowbirds, and then the bell again.
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