om the setting sun, to the horizon. Then pointing
to the shacks he said, "That is Canada. Yonder," sweeping his hand
toward the plain, "is Siberia. But," turning suddenly upon the men,
"what are you?"

"We are free men," said Joseph. "We are Canadians."

"We are Canadians," answered Simon more slowly. "But here,"
laying his hand over his heart, "here is always Russia and
our brothers of Russia."

The stranger turned a keen glance upon him. "I believe you,"
he said. "No Russian can forget his fatherland. No Russian can
forget his brother." His eyes were lit with a dreamy light,
as he gazed far beyond the plain and the glowing horizon.

At the door of the little black shack Simon halted the party.

"Pardon, I will prepare for my brother," he said.

As he opened the door a cloud of steaming odours rushed forth to
meet them. The stranger drew back and turned his face again to the
horizon, drawing deep breaths of the crisp air, purified by its
sweep of a thousand miles over snow clad prairie.

"Ah," he said, "wonderful! wonderful! Yes, that is Russia, that
air, that sky, that plain."

After some minutes Simon returned.

"Enter," he said, bowing low. "This is your house, brother;
we are your slaves."

It was a familiar Russian salutation.

"No," said the stranger, quickly stretching out his hand.
"No slaves in this land, thank God! but brothers all."

"Your brothers truly," said Simon, dropping on his knee and
kissing the outstretched hand. "Lena," he called to his wife,
who stood modestly at the other side of the room, "this is
the Elder of our Brotherhood."

Lena came forward, dropped on her knees and kissed the
outstretched hand.

"Come, Margaret," she cried, drawing her little girl of six
toward the stranger, "come and salute the master."

Little Margaret came forward and offered her hand, looking
up with brave shyness into the stranger's face.

"Shame! shame!" said Lena, horrified. "Kneel down! Kneel down!"

"She does not understand how to salute," said her father with
an apologetic smile.

"Aha, so," cried the stranger, looking curiously at the little
girl. "Where did you learn to shake hands?"

"In school," said the child in English.

"In school?" replied the stranger in the same language.
"You go to school. What school?"

"The public school, sir."

"And do they not teach you to kneel when you salute in
the public school?"

"No, sir, we never kneel."

"What then do you learn there?"