ine newspaper policy."

Dick gazed ruefully out of the window. "It's true. It's terribly true,"
he said. "The people don't want anything better than they have. The
saloon must continue to be the dominant influence here for a time.
But you hear me, Daggett, a better day is coming, and if you want an
opportunity to do, not the heroic thing only, but the wise thing, jump
into a campaign for reform. Do you think Canadians are going to stand
this long? This is a Christian country, I tell you. The Church will take
a hand."

Daggett smiled a superior smile. "Coming? Yes, sure, but meantime The
Pioneer spells Church with a small c, and even the Almighty's name with
a small g."

"I tell you, Daggett," said Dick hotly, "The Pioneer's day is past. I
see signs and I hear rumblings of a storm that will sweep it, and you,
too, unless you change, out of existence."

"Not at all, my dear sir. We will be riding on that storm when it
arrives. But the rumblings are somewhat distant. I, too, see signs, but
the time is not yet. By the way, where is your brother?"

"I don't see much of him. He is up and down the line, busy with his sick
and running this library and clubroom business."

"Yes," replied Daggett thoughtfully, "I hear of him often. The railroad
men and the lumbermen grovel to him. Look here, would he run in this
constituency?"

Dick laughed at him. "Not he. Why, man, he's straight. You couldn't buy
him. Oh, I know the game."

Daggett was silenced for some moments.

"Hello!" said Daggett, looking out of the window, "here is our coming
Member." He opened the door. "Mr. Hull, let me introduce you to the
Reverend Richard Boyle, preacher and moral reformer. Mr. Boyle--Mr.
Hull, the coming Member for this constituency."

"I hope he will make a better fist of it than the present incumbent,"
said Dick a little gruffly, for he had little respect for either of
the political parties or their representatives. "I must get along. But,
Daggett, for goodness' sake do something with this beastly gambling-hell
business." With this he closed the door.

"Good fellow, Boyle, I reckon," said Hull, "but a little unpractical,
eh?"

"Yes," agreed Daggett, "he is somewhat visionary. But I begin to think
he is on the right track."

"How? What do you mean?"

"I mean the West is beginning to lose its wool, and it's time this
country was getting civilized. That fool editor of The Pioneer thinks
that because he keeps wearing buckskin pants a