"But I shall be in England then."

"England is not very far off; and I'm a wanderer, you know."

"Well," she said with faint confusion, "unless you hurry you will miss
your train. Good-by, and good fortune!"

He took the hand she gave him and held it a moment.

"If your last wish is ever realized, I shall come to thank you, even in
England."

He turned and went out with hurried steps, wondering what had led him
to break through the reserve he had prudently determined to maintain.
What he had said might mean nothing, but it might mean much. He had
seen Millicent Graham for a few minutes in her father's house, and
afterward met her every day during the week spent in Montreal; but,
brief as their friendship had been, he had yielded to her charm. Had
he been free to seek her love, he would eagerly have done so; but he
was not free. He was an outcast, engaged in a desperate attempt to
repair his fortune. Miss Graham knew this. Perhaps she had taken his
remarks as a piece of sentimental gallantry; but something in her
manner suggested a doubt. Anyway, he had promised to show her the
flowers again some day, and he carefully placed them in his pocketbook.

CHAPTER VI

THE PRAIRIE

A strong breeze swept the wide plain, blowing fine sand about and
adding to Blake's discomfort as he plodded beside a jaded Indian pony
and a small cart. The cart was loaded with preserved provisions, camp
stores, and winter clothes; he had bought it and the pony because that
seemed cheaper than paying for transport. The settlement for which he
and Harding were bound stands near the northern edge of the great sweep
of grass which stretches across central Canada. Since leaving the
railroad they had spent four days upon the trail, which sometimes ran
plain before them, marked by dints of wheels among the wiry grass, and
sometimes died away, leaving them at a loss in a wilderness of sand and
short poplar scrub.

It was now late in the afternoon and the men were tired of battling
with the wind which buffeted their sunburned faces with sharp sand.
They were crossing one of the high steppes of the middle prairie toward
the belt of pines and muskegs which divides it from the barrens of the
North. The broad stretch of fertile loam, where prosperous wooden
towns are rising fast among the wheatfields, lay to the south of them,
and the arid tract through which they journeyed had so far no
attraction for even the adventurous homestead