ed himself in time and laughed. "Is it
surprising? You drive and starve out many a good man who dares to be
original--I've met a number of them. Can you wonder that when they're
welcomed here they're willing to forget you and become one with the
people who took them in?"

"In a way, that's a pity," said Mrs. Colston. "We like to think we
haven't lost you altogether."

Disregarding his horses, Prescott turned toward her with a bow.

"Face the truth, ma'am. If you're ever in a tight place, we'll send you
what help we can, hard men, such as can't be raised in your cities, to
keep the flag flying, but we stop there. Don't think we belong to you--we
stand firm on our own feet, a new free nation. I"--he paused in an
impressive manner--"am a Canadian."

Muriel felt a responsive thrill. His ideas were certainly not English,
nor was his mode of expressing them, but his boldness appealed to her.
Her companions were frankly astonished and rather hurt, which he seemed
to realize, for he resumed with a laugh:

"But we won't talk politics. Things I've heard English people say out
here make one tired."

Then he turned toward the girl, adding softly:

"Was that a very bad break I made?"

"I think it could be forgiven," she told him.

"The years you have spent in Canada seem to have had their full effect on
you," Colston remarked dryly.

Prescott turned his attention to his team, slightly checking their pace.

"What did you mean when you said we should reach your ranch in three
hours, if we had good luck?" Muriel asked.

"Oh," he said, "there are badger burrows about, and a little beast called
a gopher makes almost as bad a hole; they're fond of digging up the
trail. If a horse steps into one of those holes, it's apt to bring him
down. Besides, we trust a good deal to our luck in this country--one has
to run risks that can't be estimated: harvest frost, rust, dry seasons,
winds that blow destroying sand about. I've lost two crops in the eight
years I've been here."

"Can it be eight?" Colston broke in. "If I remember right, you spent
three years in Manitoba."

"It's the same kind of country and the same climate," Prescott rejoined,
conscious that he had nearly betrayed himself again. He felt angry with
Jernyngham for giving him such a difficult part to play.

After this, he carefully avoided any personal topic and talked about
Canadian farming, sitting silent when he could, while Muriel gazed about
with pleasurable cu