"Yes, that's the way with young German gentlemen to young ladies, that is, other people's ladies. But to their own, no. And I must tell you. Oh, I am afraid to tell you," she added breathlessly. "But I will tell you, you have been so kind, so good to me. You are my friend, and you will not tell. Promise me you will never tell." The girl's usually red face was pale, her voice was hoarse and trembling.

"What is the matter, Dorothea? Of course I won't tell."

"Ernest wants to marry your sister, Kathleen. He is just mad to get her, and he always gets his way too. I would not like to see your sister his wife. He would break her heart and," she added in a lower voice, "yours too. But remember you are not to tell. You are not to let him know I told you." A real terror shone in her eyes. "Do you hear me?" she cried. "He would beat me with his whip. He would, he would."

"Beat you, beat you?" Larry pulled up his horse short. "Beat you in this country—oh, Dorothea!"

"They do. Our men do beat their women, and Ernest would too. The women do not think the same way about it as your women. You will not tell?" she urged.

"What do you think I am, Dorothea? And as for beating you, let me catch him. By George, I'd, I'd—"

"What?" said Dorothea, turning her eyes full upon him, her pale face flushing.

Larry laughed. "Well, he's a big chap, but I'd try to knock his block off. But it's nonsense. Ernest is not that kind. He's an awfully good sort."

"He is, he is a good sort, but he is also a German officer and, ah, you cannot understand, but do not let him have your sister. I have told you. Come, let us go quickly."

They rode on in silence, but did not overtake the others until they reached the timber lot where they found the party waiting. With what Dorothea had just told him in his mind, Larry could not help a keen searching of Kathleen's face. She was quietly chatting with the young German, with face serene and quite untouched with anything but the slightest animation. "She is not worrying over anything," said Larry to himself. Then he turned and looked upon the face of the young man at her side. A shock of surprise, of consternation, thrilled him. The young man's face was alight with an intensity of eagerness, of desire, that startled Larry and filled him with a new feeling of anxiety, indeed of dismay.

"Oh, you people are slow," cried Nora. "What is keeping you? Come along or we shall be late. Shall we go through the woods straight to the dump, or shall we go around?"

"Let's go around," cried Kathleen. "Do you know I have not been around for ever so long?"

"Yes," said Larry, "let's go around by Nora's mine."

"Nora's mine!" exclaimed Ernest. "Do you know I've heard about that mine a great deal but I have never seen Nora's mine?"

"Come along, then," said Nora, "but there's almost no trail and we shall have to hurry while we can. There's only a cow track."

"Move along then," said her brother; "show us the way and we will follow. Go on, Ernest."

But Ernest apparently had difficulty with his broncho so that he was found at the rear of the line with Kathleen immediately in front of him. The cow trail led out of the coolee over a shoulder of a wooded hill and down into a ravine whose sharp sides made the riding even to those experienced westerners a matter of difficulty, in places of danger. At the bottom of the ravine a little torrent boiled and foamed on its way to join Wolf Willow Creek a mile further down. After an hour's struggle with the brushwood and fallen timber the party was halted by a huge spruce tree which had fallen fair across the trail.

"Where now, boss?" cried Larry to Nora, who from her superior knowledge of the ground, had been leading the party.

"This is something new," answered Nora. "I think we should cross the water and try to break through to the left around the top of the tree."

"No," said Ernest, "the right looks better to me, around the root here. It is something of a scramble, but it is better than the left."

"Come along," said Nora; "this is the way of the trail, and we can get through the brush of that top all right."

"I am for the right. Come, let's try it, Kathleen, shall we?" said Ernest.

Kathleen hesitated. "Come, we'll beat them out. Right turn, march."

The commanding tones of the young man appeared to dominate the girl. She set her horse to the steep hillside, following her companion to the right. A steep climb through a tangle of underbrush brought them into the cleared woods, where they paused to breathe their animals.

"Ah, that was splendidly done. You are a good horsewoman," said Ernest. "If you only had a horse as good as mine we could go anywhere together. You deserve a better horse, too. I wonder if you know how fine you look."

"My dear old Kitty is not very quick nor very beautiful, but she is very faithful, and so kind," said Kathleen, reaching down and patting her mare on the nose. "Shall we go on?"

"We need not hurry," replied her companion. "We have beaten them already. I love the woods here, and, Kathleen, I have not seen you for ever so long, for nine long months. And since your return fifteen days ago I have seen you only once, only once."

"I am sorry," said Kathleen, hurrying her horse a little. "We happened to be out every time you called."

"Other people have seen you," continued the young man with a note almost of anger in his voice. "Everywhere I hear of you, but I cannot see you. At church—I go to church to see you—but that, that Englishman is with you. He walks with you, you go in his motor car, he is in your house every day."

"What are you talking about, Ernest? Mr. Romayne? Of course. Mother likes him so much, and we all like him."

"Your mother, ah!" Ernest's tone was full of scorn.

"Yes, my mother—we all like him, and his sister, Mrs. Waring-Gaunt, you know. They are our nearest neighbours, and we have come to know them very well. Shall we go on?"

"Kathleen, listen to me," said the young man.

At this point a long call came across the ravine.

"Ah, there they are," cried the girl. "Let's hurry, please do." She brought her whip down unexpectedly on Kitty's shoulders. The mare, surprised at such unusual treatment from her mistress, sprang forward, slipped on the moss-covered sloping rock, plunged, recovered herself, slipped again, and fell over on her side. At her first slip, the young man was off his horse, and before the mare finally pitched forward was at her head, and had caught the girl from the saddle into his arms. For a moment she lay there white and breathing hard.

"My God, Kathleen!" he cried. "You are hurt? You might have been killed." His eyes burned like two blazing lights, his voice was husky, his face white. Suddenly crushing her to him, he kissed her on the cheek and again on her lips. The girl struggled to get free.

"Oh, let me go, let me go," she cried. "How can you, how can you?"

But his arms were like steel about her, and again and again he continued to kiss her, until, suddenly relaxing, she lay white and shuddering in his arms.

"Kathleen," he said, his voice hoarse with passion, "I love you, I love you. I want you. Gott in Himmel, I want you. Open your eyes, Kathleen, my darling. Speak to me. Open your eyes. Look at me. Tell me you love me." But still she lay white and shuddering. Suddenly he released her and set her on her feet. She stood looking at him with quiet, searching eyes.

"You love me," she said, her voice low and quivering with a passionate scorn, "and you treat me so? Let us go." She moved toward her horse.

"Kathleen, hear me," he entreated. "You must hear me. You shall hear me." He caught her once more by the arm. "I forgot myself. I saw you lying there so white. How could I help it? I meant no harm. I have loved you since you were a little girl, since that day I saw you first herding the cattle. You had a blue dress and long braids. I loved you then. I have loved you every day since. I think of you and I dream of you. The world is full of you. I am offering you marriage. I want you to be my wife." The hands that clutched her arm were shaking, his voice was thick and broken. But still she stood with her face turned from him, quietly trying to break from his grasp. But no word did she speak.

"Kathleen, I forgot myself," he said, letting go of her arm. "I was wrong, but, my God, Kathleen, I am not stone, and when I felt your heart beat against mine—"

"Oh," she cried, shuddering and drawing further away from him.

"—and your face so white, your dear face so near mine, I forgot myself."

"No," said the girl, turning her face toward him and searching him with her quiet, steady, but contemptuous eyes, "you forgot me."



CHAPTER IX

EXCEPT HE STRIVE LAWFULLY

The Wolf Willow Dominion Day Celebration Committee were in session in the schoolhouse with the Reverend Evans Rhye in the chair, and all of the fifteen members in attendance. The reports from the various sub-committees had been presented and approved.

The programme for the day was in the parson's hand. "A fine programme, ladies and gentlemen, thanks to you all, and especially to our friend here," said Mr. Rhye, placing his hand on Larry's shoulder.

A chorus of approval greeted his remark, but Larry protested. "Not at all. Every one was keen to help. We are all tremendous Canadians and eager to celebrate Dominion Day."

"Well, let us go over it again," said Mr. Rhye. "The football match with the Eagle Hill boys is all right. How about the polo match with the High River men, Larry?"

"The captain of the High River team wrote to express regret that two of his seniors would not be available, but that he hoped to give us a decent game."

"There will only be one fault with the dinner and the tea, Mrs. Kemp."

"And what will that be, sir?" enquired Mrs. Kemp, who happened to be Convener of the Refreshment Committee.

"They will receive far too much for their money," said Mr. Rhye. "How about the evening entertainment, Larry?" he continued.

"Everything is all right, I think, sir," said Larry.

"Are the minstrels in good form?" enquired Mrs. Waring-Gaunt. "This is your last appearance, you know, and you must go out in a blaze of glory."

"We hope to get through somehow," said Larry.

"And the speakers?" enquired Mr. Rhye.

"Both will be on hand. Mr. Gilchrist promises a patriotic address. Mr. Alvin P. Jones will represent Wolf Willow in a kind of local glorification stunt."

"This is all perfectly splendid," said Mr. Rhye, "and I cannot tell you how grateful I am to you all. We ought to have a memorable day to-morrow."

And a memorable day it was. The weather proved worthy of Alberta's best traditions, for it was sunny, with a fine sweeping breeze to temper the heat and to quicken the pulses with its life-bringing ozone fresh from the glacier gorges and the pine forests of the Rockies.

The captain of the Wolf Willow football team was awake and afoot soon after break of day that he might be in readiness for the Eagle Hill team when they arrived. Sam was in his most optimistic mood. His team, he knew, were in the finest condition and fit for their finest effort. Everything promised victory. But alas! for Sam's hopes. At nine o'clock a staggering blow fell when Vial, his partner on the right wing of the forward line, rode over with the news that Coleman, their star goal-keeper, their ultimate reliance on the defence line, had been stepped on by a horse and rendered useless for the day. It was, indeed, a crushing calamity. Sam spent an hour trying to dig up a substitute. The only possible substitutes were Hepworth and Biggs, neither of them first class men but passable, and Fatty Rose. The two former, however, had gone for the day to Calgary, and Fatty Rose was hopelessly slow. Sam discussed the distressing situation with such members of the team as could be hastily got together.

"Dere's dat new feller," suggested Joe.

"That's so," said Vial, familiarly known as Bottles. "That chap Sykes, Farwell's friend. He's a dandy dribbler. He could take Cassap's place on left wing and let Cassap take goal."

With immense relief the team accepted this solution of the difficulty. But gloom still covered Sam's face. "He's only been here two weeks," he said, "and you know darn well the rule calls for four."

"Oh, hang it!" said Bottles, "he's going to be a resident all right. He's a real resident right now, and anyway, they won't know anything about it."

"Oh, cut it out," said Sam, suddenly flaring into wrath. "You know we can't do that sort of thing. It ain't the game and we ain't goin' to do it."

"What ain't the game?" enquired Larry, who had come upon the anxious and downcast group.

Farwell told him the calamitous news and explained the problem under discussion. "We'd play Sykes, only he hasn't been here a month yet, and Sam won't stand for it," he said.

"Of course Sam won't stand for it, and the Captain is right," said Larry. "Is there nobody else, Sam?" Sam shook his head despondently. "Would I be any good, Sam? I am not keen about it, but if you think I could take Cassap's place on left wing, he could take goal."

Sam brightened up a little. "Guess we can't do no better," he said doubtfully. "I mean," he added in answer to the shout of laughter from the team—"Aw, shut up, can that cackle. We know the Master hates football an' this is goin' to be a real fightin' game. He'll get all knocked about an' I don't want that. You know he'll be takin' all kinds of chances."

"Oh, quit, Sam. I am in pretty good shape," said Larry. "They can't kill me. That's the best I can do anyway, so let's get to them."

The situation was sufficiently gloomy to stir Joe to his supremest efforts and to kindle Sam's spirit to a blazing flame. "We don't need Sykes nor nobody else," he shouted to his men as they moved on to the field. "They can wear their boots out on that defence line of ours an' be derned to 'em. An', Bottles, you got to play the game of your life to-day. None of your fancy embroidery, just plain knittin'. Every feller on the ball an' every feller play to his man. There'll be a lot of females hangin' around, but we don't want any frills for the girls to admire. But all at it an' all the time." Sam's little red eyes glowed with even a more fiery hue than usual; his rat-like face assumed its most belligerent aspect.

Before the match Larry took the Eagle Hill captain, a young Englishman who had been trying for ten years to make a living on a ranch far up among the foothills and was only beginning to succeed, to his mother, who had been persuaded to witness the game. They found her in Kathleen's care and under instruction from young Farwell as to the fundamental principles of the game. Near them a group of men were standing, among whom were Switzer, Waring-Gaunt, and Jack Romayne, listening to Farwell's dissertation.

"You see, Mrs. Gwynne," he said, "no one may handle the ball—head, feet, body, may be used, but not the hands."

"But I understand they sometimes hurt each other, Mr. Farwell."

"Oh, accidents will happen even on the farm, Mrs. Gwynne. For instance, Coleman this morning had a horse step on his foot, necessitating Larry's going on."

"Is Lawrence going to play?" said Mrs. Gwynne. "Ah, here he is. Lawrence, are you in good condition? You have not been playing."

"I am not really very fit, Mother, not very hard, but I have been running a good deal. I don't expect I shall be much use. Sam is quite dubious about it."

"He will be all right, Mrs. Gwynne," said Farwell confidently. "He is the fastest runner in the team. If he were only twenty pounds heavier and if he were a bit more keen about the game he would be a star."

"Why don't they play Sykes?" inquired Kathleen. "I heard some of the boys say this morning that Sykes was going to play. He is quite wonderful, I believe."

"He is," replied Larry, "quite wonderful, but unfortunately he is not eligible. But let me introduce Mr. Duckworth, Captain of our enemy."

Mrs. Gwynne received the young man with a bright smile. "I am sorry I cannot wish you victory, and all the more now that my own son is to be engaged. But I don't understand, Larry," she continued, "why Mr. Sykes cannot play."

"Why, because there's a League regulation, Mother, that makes a month's residence in the district necessary to a place on the team. Unfortunately Sykes has been here only two weeks, and so we are unwilling to put one over on our gallant foe. Got to play the game, eh, Duckworth?"

Duckworth's face grew fiery red. "Yes, certainly," he said. "Rather an awkward rule but—"

"You see, Mother, we want to eliminate every sign of professionalism," said Larry, "and emphasise the principle of local material for clubs."

"Ah, I see, and a very good idea, I should say," said his mother. "The Eagle Hill team, for instance, will be made up of Eagle Hill men only. That is really much better for the game because you get behind your team all the local pride and enthusiasm."

"A foolish rule, I call it," said Switzer abruptly to Kathleen, "and you can't enforce it anyway. Who can tell the personality of a team ten, twenty or fifty miles away?"

"I fancy they can tell themselves," said Jack Romayne. "Their Captain can certify to his men."

"Aha!" laughed Switzer. "That's good. The Captain, I suppose, is keen to win. Do you think he would keep a man off his team who is his best player, and who may bring him the game?" Switzer's face was full of scorn.

"I take it they are gentlemen," was Romayne's quiet rejoinder.

"Of course, Mr. Romayne," said Mrs. Gwynne. "That gets rid of all the difficulty. Otherwise it seems to me that all the pleasure would be gone from the contest, the essential condition of which is keeping to the rules."

"Good for you, Mother. You're a real sport," said Larry.

"Besides," replied his mother, "we have Scripture for it. You remember what it says? 'If a man strive for masteries yet is he not crowned except he strive lawfully.' 'Except he strive lawfully,' you see. The crown he might otherwise win would bring neither honour nor pleasure."

"Good again, Mother. You ought to have a place on the League committee. We shall have that Scripture entered on the rules. But I must run and dress. Farwell, you can take charge of Duckworth."

But Duckworth was uneasy to be gone. "If you will excuse me, Mrs. Gwynne, I must get my men together."

"Well, Mr. Duckworth," said Mrs. Gwynne, smiling on him as she gave him her hand, "I am sorry we cannot wish you a victory, but we can wish you your very best game and an honourable defeat."

"Thank you," said Duckworth. "I feel you have done your best."

"Come and see us afterward, Mr. Duckworth. What a splendid young man," she continued, as Duckworth left the party and set off to get his men together with the words "except he strive lawfully" ringing in his ears.

"She's a wonder," he said to himself. "I wonder how it is she got to me as she has. I know. She makes me think—" But Duckworth refused even to himself to say of whom she made him think. "Except he strive lawfully" the crown would bring "neither honour nor pleasure." Those words, and the face which had suddenly been recalled to Duckworth's memory reconstructed his whole scheme of football diplomacy. "By George, we cannot play Liebold; we can't do it. The boys will kick like steers, but how can we? I'm up against a fierce proposition, all right."

And so he found when he called his men together and put to them the problem before him. "It seems a rotten time to bring this matter up just when we are going on to the ground, but I never really thought much about it till that little lady put it to me as I told you. And, fellows, I have felt as if it were really up to me to put it before you. They have lost their goal man, Coleman—there's no better in the League—and because of this infernal rule they decline to put on a cracking good player. They are playing the game on honour, and they are expecting us to do the same, and as that English chap says, they expect us to be gentlemen. I apologise to you all, and if you say go on as we are, I will go on because I feel I ought to have kicked before. But I do so under protest and feeling like a thief. I suggest that Harremann take Liebold's place. Awfully sorry about it, Liebold, and I apologise to you. I can't tell you how sorry I am, boys, but that's how it is with me."

There was no time for discussion, and strangely enough there was little desire for it, the Captain's personality and the action of the Wolf Willow team carrying the proposition through. Harremann took his place on the team, and Liebold made his contribution that day from the side lines. But the team went on to the field with a sense that whatever might be the outcome of the match they had begun the day with victory.

The match was contested with the utmost vigour, not to say violence; but there was a absence of the rancour which had too often characterised the clashing of these teams on previous occasions, the Eagle Hill team carrying on to the field a new respect for their opponents as men who had shown a true sporting spirit. And by the time the first quarter was over their action in substituting an inferior player for Liebold for honour's sake was known to all the members of the Wolf Willow team, and awakened in them and in their friends among the spectators a new respect for their enemy. The match resulted in a victory for the home team, but the generous applause which followed the Eagle Hill team from the field and which greeted them afterward at the dinner where they occupied an honoured place at the table set apart for distinguished guests, and the excellent dinner provided by the thrifty Ladies' Aid of All Saints Church went far to soothe their wounded spirits and to atone for their defeat.

"Awfully fine of you, Duckworth," said Larry, as they left the table together. "That's the sort of thing that makes for clean sport."

"I promised to see your mother after the match," said Duckworth. "Can we find her now?"

"Sure thing," said Larry.

Mrs. Gwynne received the young man with hand stretched far out to meet him.

"You made us lose the game, Mrs. Gwynne," said Duckworth in a half-shamed manner, "and that is one reason why I came to see you again."

"I?" exclaimed Mrs. Gwynne.

"Well, you quoted Scripture against us, and you know you can't stand up against Scripture and hope to win, can you?" said Duckworth with a laugh.

"Sit down here beside me, Mr. Duckworth," she said, her eyes shining. "I won't pretend not to understand you;" she continued when he had taken his place beside her. "I can't tell you how proud I am of you."

"Thank you," said Duckworth. "I like to hear that. You see I never thought about it very much. I am not excusing myself."

"No, I know you are not, but I heard about it, Mr. Duckworth. We all think so much of you. I am sure your mother is proud of you."

Young Duckworth sat silent, his eyes fastened upon the ground.

"Please forgive me. Perhaps she is—no longer with you," said Mrs. Gwynne softly, laying her hand upon his. Duckworth nodded, refusing to look at her and keeping his lips firmly pressed together. "I was wrong in what I said just now," she continued. "She is with you still; she knows and follows all your doings, and I believe she is proud of you."

Duckworth cleared his throat and said with an evident effort, "You made me think of her to-day, and I simply had to play up. I must go now. I must see the fellows." He rose quickly to his feet.

"Come and see us, won't you?" said Mrs. Gwynne.

"Won't I just," replied Duckworth, holding her hand a moment or two. "I can't tell you how glad I am that I met you to-day."

"Oh, wait, Mr. Duckworth. Nora, come here. I want you to meet my second daughter. Nora, this is Mr. Duckworth, the Captain."

"Oh, I know him, the Captain of the enemy," cried Nora.

"Of our friends, Nora," said her mother.

"All right, of our friends, now that we have beaten you, but I want to tell you, Mr. Duckworth, that I could gladly have slain you many times to-day."

"And why, pray?"

"Oh, you were so terribly dangerous, and as for Larry, why you just played with him. It was perfectly maddening to me."

"All the same your brother got away from me and shot the winning goal. He's fearfully fast."

"A mere fluke, I tell him."

"Don't you think it for one little minute. It was a neat bit of work."



CHAPTER X

THE SPIRIT Of CANADA

Whatever it was that rendered it necessary for Duckworth to "see the fellows," that necessity vanished in the presence of Nora.

"Are you going to take in the polo?" he asked.

"Am I? Am I going to continue breathing?" cried Nora. "Come along, Mother, we must go if we are to get a good place."

"May I find one for you," said Mr. Duckworth, quite forgetting that he "must see the fellows," and thinking only of his good luck in falling in with such a "stunning-looking girl." He himself had changed into flannels, and with his athletic figure, his brown, healthy face, brown eyes and hair, was a thoroughly presentable young man. He found a place with ease for his party, a dozen people offering to make room for them. As Mr. Duckworth let his eyes rest upon the young lady at his side his sense of good-fortune grew upon him, for Nora in white pique skirt and batiste blouse smartly girdled with a scarlet patent leather belt, in white canvas shoes and sailor hat, made a picture good to look at. Her dark olive brown skin, with rich warm colour showing through the sunburn of her cheeks, her dark eyes, and her hair for once "done up in style" under Kathleen's supervision, against the white of her costume made her indeed what her escort thought, "a stunning-looking girl." Usually careless as to her appearance, she had yielded to Kathleen's persuasion and had "gotten herself up to kill." No wonder her friends of both sexes followed her with eyes of admiration, for no one envied Nora, her frank manner, her generous nature, her open scorn at all attempts to win admiration, made her only friends.

"Bring your mother over here," cried Mrs. Waring-Gaunt, who rejoiced exceedingly in the girl's beauty. "Why, how splendidly you are looking to-day," she continued in a more confidential tone as the party grouped themselves about her. "What have you been doing to yourself? You are looking awfully fine."

"Am I?" said Nora, exceedingly pleased with herself. "I am awfully glad. It is all Kathleen's doing. I got me the belt and the hat new for this show."

"Very smart, that belt, my dear," said her friend.

"I rather fancy it myself, and Kathleen would do up my hair in this new way," said Nora, removing her hat that the full glory of her coiffure might appear. "Do you like it?"

"Perfectly spiffing!" ejaculated Mr. Duckworth, who had taken a seat just behind her chair.

Nora threw him a challenging glance that made that young man's heart skip a beat or two as all the excitements of the match had not.

"Are you a judge?" said the girl, tipping her saucy chin at him.

"Am I? With four sisters and dozens of cousins to practise on, I fancy I might claim to be a regular bench show expert."

"Then," cried Nora with sudden animation, "you are the very man I want."

"Thank you so much," replied Mr. Duckworth fervently.

"I mean, perhaps you can advise me. Now as you look at me—" The young man's eyes burned into hers so that with all her audacity Nora felt the colour rising in her face. "Which would you suggest as the most suitable style for me, the psyche knot or the neck roll?"

"I beg your pardon? I rather—"

"Or would you say the French twist?"

"Ah, the French twist—"

"Or simply marcelled and pomped?"

"I am afraid—"

"Or perhaps the pancake or the coronet?"

"Well," said the young man, desperately plunging, "the coronet I should say would certainly not be inappropriate. It goes with princesses, duchesses and that sort of thing. Don't you think so, Mrs. Waring-Gaunt?" said Duckworth, hoping to be extricated. That lady, however, gave him no assistance but continued to smile affectionately at the girl beside her. "What style is this that you have now adopted, may I ask?" inquired Mr. Duckworth cautiously.

"Oh, that's a combination of several. It's a creation of Kathleen's which as yet has received no name."

"Then it should be named at once," said Duckworth with great emphasis. "May I suggest the Thunderbolt? You see, of course—so stunning."

"They are coming on," cried Nora, turning her shoulder in disdain upon the young man. "Look, there's your brother, Mrs. Waring-Gaunt. I think he is perfectly splendid."

"Which is he?" said Mr. Duckworth, acutely interested.

"That tall, fine-looking man on the brown pony."

"Oh, yes, I see. Met him this morning. By Jove, he is some looker too," replied Mr. Duckworth with reluctant enthusiasm.

"And there is the High River Captain," said Mrs. Waring-Gaunt, "on the grey."

"Oh, yes, Monteith, he played for All Canada last year, didn't he?" said Nora with immense enthusiasm. "He is perfectly splendid."

"I hear the High River club has really sent only its second team, or at least two of them," said Mrs. Waring-Gaunt. "Certainly Tremaine is not with them."

"I hope they get properly trimmed for it," said Nora, indignantly. "Such cheek!"

The result of the match quite exceeded Nora's fondest hopes, for the High River team, having made the fatal error of despising the enemy, suffered the penalty of their mistake in a crushing defeat. It was certainly a memorable day for Wolf Willow, whose inhabitants were exalted to a height of glory as they never experienced in all their history.

"Serves us right," said Monteith, the High River Captain, apologising for his team's poor display to his friend, Hec Ross, who had commanded the Wolf Willow team. "We deserved to be jolly well licked, and we got what was coming to us."

"Oh, we're not worrying," replied the Wolf Willow Captain, himself a sturdy horseman and one of the most famous stick handlers in the West. "Of course, we know that if Murray and Knight had been with you the result would have been different."

"I am not at all sure about that," replied Monteith. "That new man of yours, Romayne, is a wonder. Army man, isn't he?"

"Yes, played in India, I believe."

"Oh, no wonder he's such a don at it. You ought to get together a great team here, Ross, and I should like to bring our team down again to give you a real game."

"When?"

"Say two weeks. No. That throws it a little late for the harvest. Say a week from to-day."

"I shall let you know to-night," said Ross. "You are staying for the spellbinding fest and entertainment, are you not?"

"Sure thing; we are out for the whole day. Who are on for the speaking?"

"Gilchrist for one, our Member for the Dominion, you know."

"Oh, yes, strong man, I believe. He's a Liberal, of Course."

"Yes," replied Ross, "he's a Grit all right, hide-bound too—"

"Which you are not, I take it," replied Monteith with a laugh.

"Traditionally I am a Conservative," said Ross, "but last election I voted Liberal. I don't know how you were but I was keen on Reciprocity."

"The contrary with me," replied Monteith. "Traditionally I am a Liberal, but I voted Conservative."

"You voted against Reciprocity, you a western man voted against a better market for our wheat and stuff, and against cheaper machinery?"

"Yes, I knew quite well it would give us a better market for our grain here, and it would give us cheaper machinery too, but—do you really care to know why I switched?"

"Sure thing; I'd like awfully to hear if you don't mind. We are not discussing politics, you understand."

"No. Well," said Monteith, "two things made me change my party. In the first place, to be quite frank, I was afraid of American domination. We are a small people yet. Their immense wealth would overwhelm our manufacturers and flood our markets with cheap stuff, and with trade dominance there would more easily go political dominance. You remember Taft's speech? That settled it for me. That was one thing. The other was the Navy question. I didn't like Laurier's attitude. I am a Canadian, born right here in Alberta, but I am an Imperialist. I am keen about the Empire and that sort of thing. I believe that our destiny is with the Empire and that with the Empire we shall attain to our best. And since the Empire has protected us through all of our history, I believe the time has come when we should make our contribution to its defence. We ought to have a fleet, and that fleet in time of war should automatically be merged with the Imperial Navy. That's how I felt at the last election. This autonomy stuff of Laurier's is all right, but it should not interfere with Imperial unity."

"It's a funny thing," replied Ross. "I take the opposite side on both these points. I was born in the Old Country and like most Old Country people believe in Free Trade. So I was keen to wipe out all barriers between the United States and ourselves in trade. I believe in trading wherever you can get the best terms. As for American domination, I have not the slightest fear in the world of the Yankees. They might flood our markets at first, probably would, but they would certainly bring in capital. We need capital badly, you know that. And why should not factories be established on this side of the line with American money? Pennsylvania does not hurt New York, nor Illinois Dakota. Why then, with all trade barriers thrown down, should the United States hurt Canada? And then on the other side, we get a market for everything we grow at our doors. Reciprocity looked good to me. As for imperilling our Imperial connections—I do not mean to be offensive at all—of course you see what your position amounts to—that our financial interests would swamp our loyalty, that our loyalty is a thing of dollars and cents. My idea is that nothing in the world from the outside can ever break the bonds that hold Canada to the Empire, and after all, heart bonds are the strong bonds. Then in regard to the Navy, I take the other view from you also. I believe I am a better Canadian than you, although I am not Canadian born. I think there's something awfully fine in Canada's splendid independence. She wants to run her own ranch, and by George she will, and everything on it. She is going to boss her own job and will allow no one else to butt in. I agree with what you say about the Empire. Canada ought to have a Navy and quick. She ought to take her share of the burden of defence. But I agree here with Laurier. I believe her ships should be under her own control. For after all only the Canadian Government has the right to speak the word that sends them out to war. Of course, when once Canada hands them over to the Imperial Navy, they will fall into line and take their orders from the Admiral that commands the fleet. Do you know I believe that Laurier is right in sticking out for autonomy."

"I am awfully interested in what you say, and I don't believe we are so far apart. It's a thousand pities they did not keep together in the Commons. They could easily have worked it out."

"Yes, it was a beastly shame," replied Ross.

"But isn't it rather queer," said Monteith, "and isn't it significant, too? Here I am, born in Canada, sticking out against reciprocity and anxious to guard our Imperial connection and ready to hand our Navy clean over to the Imperial authorities, and on the other hand, there you are, born in the Old Country, you don't appear to care a darn about Imperial connections. You let that take care of itself, and you stick up for Canadian autonomy to the limit."

"Well, for one thing," replied Ross, "we ought to get together on the Navy business. On the trade question we represent, of course, two schools of economics, but we ought not to mix up the flag with our freight. This flag-flapping business makes me sick."

"There you are again," said Monteith. "Here I am, born right here in the West, and yet I believe in all the flag-flapping you can bring about and right here in this country too. Why, you know how it is with these foreigners, Ruthenians, Russians, Germans, Poles. Do you know that in large sections of this western country the foreign vote controls the election? I believe we ought to take every means to teach them to love the flag and shout for it too. Oh, I know you Old Country chaps. You take the flag for granted, and despise this flag-raising business. Let me tell you something. I went across to Oregon a little while ago and saw something that opened my eyes. In a little school in the ranching country in a settlement of mixed foreigners—Swedes, Italians, Germans, Jews—they had a great show they called 'saluting the flag.' Being Scotch you despise the whole thing as a lot of rotten slushy sentimentality, and a lot of Canadians agree with you. But let me tell you how they got me. I watched those kids with their foreign faces, foreign speech—you ought to hear them read—Great Scott, you'd have to guess at the language. Then came this flag-saluting business. A kid with Yiddish written all over his face was chosen to carry in the flag, attended by a bodyguard for the colours, and believe me they appeared as proud as Punch of the honour. They placed the flag in position, sang a hymn, had a prayer, then every kid at a signal shot out his right hand toward the flag held aloft by the Yiddish colour bearer and pledged himself, heart, and soul, and body, to his flag and to his country. The ceremony closed with the singing of the national hymn, mighty poor poetry and mighty hard to sing, but do you know listening to those kids and watching their foreign faces I found myself with tears in my eyes and swallowing like a darn fool. Ever since that day I believe in flag-flapping."

"Maybe you are right," replied Ross. "You know we British folk are so fearfully afraid of showing our feelings. We go along like graven images; the more really stirred up, the more graven we appear. But suppose we move over to the platform where the speechifying is to be done."

In front of the school building a platform had been erected, and before the stage, preparations had been made for seating the spectators as far as the school benches and chairs from neighbours' houses would go. The programme consisted of patriotic songs and choruses with contributions from the minstrel company. The main events of the evening, however, were to be the addresses, the principal speech being by the local member for the Dominion Parliament, Mr. J. H. Gilchrist, who was to be followed by a local orator, Mr. Alvin P. Jones, a former resident of the United States, but now an enthusiastic, energetic and most successful farmer and business man, possessing one of the best appointed ranches in Alberta. The chairman was, of course, Reverend Evans Rhye. The parson was a little Welshman, fat and fussy and fiery of temper, but his heart was warmly human, and in his ministry he manifested a religion of such simplicity and devotion, of such complete unselfishness as drew to him the loyal affection of the whole community. Even such sturdy Presbyterians as McTavish, the Rosses, Angus Frazer and his mother, while holding tenaciously and without compromise to their own particular form of doctrine and worship, yielded Mr. Rhye, in the absence of a church and minister of their own denomination, a support and esteem unsurpassed even among his own folk. Their attitude was considered to be stated with sufficient clearness by Angus Frazer in McTavish's store one day. "I am not that sure about the doctrine, but he has the right kind of religion for me." And McTavish's reply was characteristic: "Doctrine! He has as gude as you can expec' frae thae Episcopawlian buddies. But he's a Godly man and he aye pays his debts whatever," which from McTavish was as high praise as could reasonably be expected.

The audience comprised the total population of Wolf Willow and its vicinity, as well as visitors from the country within a radius of ten or fifteen miles.

Mr. J. H. Gilchrist, M. P., possessed the initial advantages of Scotch parentage and of early Scotch training, and besides these he was a farmer and knew the farmer's mind. To these advantages he added those of a course of training in Toronto University in the departments of metaphysics and economics, and an additional advantage of five years' pedagogical experience. He possessed, moreover, the gift of lucid and forceful speech. With such equipment small wonder that he was in demand for just such occasions as a Dominion Day celebration and in just such a community as Wolf Willow. The theme of his address was Canadian Citizenship, Its Duties and Its Responsibilities, a theme somewhat worn but possessing the special advantage of being removed from the scope of party politics while at the same time affording opportunity for the elucidation of the political principles of that party which Mr. Gilchrist represented, and above all for a fervid patriotic appeal. With Scotch disdain of all that savoured of flattery or idle compliment, Mr. Gilchrist plunged at once into the heart of his subject.

"First, the area of Canada. Forty-six years ago, when Canada became a nation, the Dominion possessed an area of 662,148 square miles; to-day her area covers 3,729,665 square miles, one-third the total size of the British Empire, as large as the continent of Europe without Russia, larger by over one hundred thousand square miles than the United States."

"Hear, hear," cried an enthusiastic voice from the rear.

"Aye, water and snow," in a rasping voice from old McTavish.

"Water and snow," replied Mr. Gilchrist. "Yes, plenty of water, 125,000 square miles of it, and a good thing it is too for Canada. Some people sniff at water," continued the speaker with a humorous glance at McTavish, "but even a Scotchman may with advantage acknowledge the value of a little water." The crowd went off into a roar of laughter at the little Scotchman who was supposed to be averse to the custom of mixing too much water with his drink.

"My friend, Mr. McTavish," continued the speaker, "has all a Scotchman's hatred of bounce and brag. I am not indulging in foolish brag, but I maintain that no Canadian can rightly prize the worth of his citizenship who does not know something of his country, something of the wealth of meaning lying behind that word 'Canada,' and I purpose to tell you this evening something of some of Canada's big things. I shall speak of them with gratitude and with pride, but chiefly with a solemnising sense of responsibility.

"As for the 'water and the snow' question: Let me settle that now. Water for a great inland continental country like ours is one of its most valuable assets for it means three things. First, cheap transportation. We have the longest continuous waterway in the world, and with two small cuttings Canada can bring ocean-going ships into the very heart of the continent. Second, water means climate rainfall, and there need be no fear of snow and frost while great bodies of open water lie about. And third, water power. Do you know that Canada stands first in the world in its water power? It possesses twice the water power of the United States (we like to get something in which we can excel our American cousins), and lying near the great centres of population too. Let me give you three examples. Within easy reach of Vancouver on the west coast there is at least 350,000 horse power, of which 75,000 is now in use. Winnipeg, the metropolitan centre of Canada, where more than in any place else can be heard the heart beat of the Dominion, has 400,000 horse power available, of which she now uses 50,000. Toronto lies within reach of the great Niagara, whose power no one can estimate, while along the course of the mighty St. Lawrence towns and cities lie within touch of water power that is beyond all calculation as yet. And do you Alberta people realise that right here in your own province the big Bassano Dam made possible by a tiny stream taken from the Bow River furnishes irrigation power for over a million acres? Perhaps that will do about the water."

"Oo aye," said McTavish, with profound resignation in his voice. "Ye'll dae wi' that."

"And snow," cried the speaker. "We would not willingly be without our snow in Canada. Snow means winter transport, better business, lumbering, and above all, wheat. Where you have no snow and frost you cannot get the No. 1 hard wheat. Don't quarrel with the snow. It is Canada's snow and frost that gives her the first place in the world in wheat production. So much for the water and the snow."

McTavish hitched about uneasily. He wanted to have the speaker get done with this part of his theme.

From Canada's area Mr. Gilchrist passed on to deal with Canada's resources, warning his audience that the greater part of these resources was as yet undeveloped and that he should have to indulge in loud-sounding phrases, but he promised them that whatever words he might employ he would still be unable to adequately picture to their imagination the magnitude of Canada's undeveloped wealth. Then in a perfect torrent he poured forth upon the people statistics setting forth Canada's possessions in mines and forests, in fisheries, in furs, in agricultural products, and especially in wheat. At the word "wheat" he pulled up abruptly.

"Wheat," he exclaimed, "the world's great food for men. And Canada holds the greatest wheat farm in all the world. Not long ago Jim Hill told the Minneapolis millers that three-fourths of the wheat lands on the American continent were north of the boundary line and that Canada could feed every mouth in Europe. Our wheat crop this year will go nearly 250,000,000 bushels, and this, remember, without fertilisation and with very poor farming, for we Western Canadians are poor farmers. We owe something to our American settlers who are teaching us something of the science and art of agriculture. Remember, too, that our crop comes from only one-seventh of our wheat lands. Had the other six-sevenths been cropped, our wheat yield would be over three and a half billion bushels—just about the world's supply. We should never be content till Canada does her full duty to the world, till Canada gives to the world all that is in her power to give. I make no apology for dwelling at such length upon Canada's extent and resources.

"Now let me speak to you about our privileges and responsibilities as citizens of this Dominion. Our possessions and material things will be our destruction unless we use them not only for our own good, but for the good of the world. And these possessions we can never properly use till we learn to prize those other possessions of heart and mind and soul."

With a light touch upon the activities of Canadians, in the development of their country in such matters as transportation and manufactures, he passed to a consideration of the educational, social, industrial, political and religious privileges which Canadian citizens enjoyed.

"These are the things," he cried, "that have to do with the nation's soul. These are the things that determine the quality of a people and their place among the nations, their influence in the world. In the matter of education it is the privilege of every child in Canada to receive a sound training, not only in the elementary branches of study, but even in higher branches as well. In Canada social distinctions are based more upon worth than upon wealth, more upon industry and ability than upon blue blood. Nowhere in the world is it more profoundly true that

"'A man's a man for a' that; The rank is but the guinea's stamp; The man's the gowd for a' that.'"

At this old McTavish surprised the audience and himself by crying out, "Hear-r-r, hear-r-r," glancing round defiantly as if daring anyone to take up his challenge.

"In matters of religion," continued the speaker, "the churches of Canada hold a position of commanding influence, not because of any privileges accorded them by the State, nor because of any adventitious or meretricious aids, but solely because of their ability to minister to the social and spiritual needs of the people."

Briefly the speaker proceeded to touch upon some characteristic features of Canadian political institutions.

"Nowhere in the world," he said, "do the people of a country enjoy a greater measure of freedom. We belong to a great world Empire. This connection we value and mean to cherish, but our Imperial relations do not in the slightest degree infringe upon our liberties. The Government of Canada is autonomous. Forty-six years ago the four provinces of Canada were united into a single Dominion with representative Government of the most complete kind. Canada is a Democracy, and in no Democracy in the world does the will of the people find more immediate and more complete expression than in our Dominion. With us political liberty is both a heritage and an achievement, a heritage from our forefathers who made this Empire what it is, and an achievement of our own people led by great and wise statesmen. This priceless possession of liberty we shall never surrender, for the nation that surrenders its liberty, no matter what other possessions it may retain, has lost its soul."

The address concluded with an appeal to the people for loyal devotion to the daily duties of life in their various relations as members of families, members of the community, citizens of the Province and of the Dominion. In the applause that followed the conclusion of this address, even old McTavish was observed to contribute his share with something amounting almost to enthusiasm.



CHAPTER XI

THE SHADOW OF WAR

It was finally agreed that a part at least of the responsibility for the disturbance which marred the harmony of the Dominion Day celebration at Wolf Willow upon this occasion must rest on the shoulders of Mr. Alvin P. Jones. The impressive presentation by Mr. Gilchrist of Canada's greatness and the splendour of her future appeared to stimulate Mr. Jones to unusual flights of oratory. Under ordinary circumstances Mr. Jones' oratory was characterised by such extraordinary physical vigour, if not violence, and by such a fluency of orotund and picturesque speech, that with the multitude sound passed for eloquence and platitudes on his lips achieved the dignity of profound wisdom. Building upon the foundation laid by the previous speaker, Mr. Jones proceeded to extol the grandeur of the Dominion, the wonders of her possessions, the nobility of her people, the splendour of her institutions, the glory of her future. He himself was not by birth a Canadian, but so powerful a spell had the Dominion cast over him that he had become a Canadian by adoption. Proud of his American birth and citizenship, he was even more proud of his Canadian citizenship. He saw before him a large number of American citizens who had come to throw in their lot with the Dominion of Canada. He believed they had done a wise thing, and that among the most loyal citizens of this Dominion none would be found more devoted to the material welfare and the spiritual well-being of Canada than those who came from the other side of the line. He saw a number of those who were sometimes improperly called foreigners. He said "improperly" because whatever their origin, whether Ruthenian, Swede, French, German, or whatever their race might be, here they were simply Canadians with all the rights of Canadian citizenship assured to them. He was glad to see so many of his German friends present. They represent a great nation whose achievements in every department of human activity, in learning, in industrial enterprise, in commerce, were the envy and admiration of the world (excursus here in glorification of the great German people): To these, his German fellow citizens, he would say that no matter how deep their devotion to the Vaterland (Mr. Jones pronounced it with a "v") he knew they would be loyal citizens of Canada. The German Empire had its differences and disagreements with Great Britain, the American Republic has had the same, and indeed it was possible that there were a number present who might not cherish any very passionate regard for the wealthy, complaisant, self-contained somewhat slow-going old gentleman, John Bull. But here in Canada, we were all Canadians! First, last and all the time, Canadians (great applause). Whatever might be said of other countries, their wealth, their power, their glory, Canada was good enough for him (more applause, followed by a further elaboration of Canada's vast resources, etc., etc.). Canada's future was unclouded by the political complications and entanglements of the older countries in Europe. For one hundred years they had been at peace with the Republic south of that imaginary line which delimited the boundaries, but which did not divide the hearts of these two peoples (great applause). For his part, while he rejoiced in the greatness of the British Empire he believed that Canada's first duty was to herself, to the developing here of a strong and sturdy national spirit. Canada for Canadians, Canada first, these were the motives that had guided his life both in public service and as a private citizen (loud applause). In this country there was a place for all, no matter from what country they came, a place for the Ruthenian (enumeration of the various European and Asiatic states from which potential citizens of Canada had come). Let us join hands and hearts in building up a great empire where our children, free from old-world entanglements, free to develop in our own way our own institutions (eloquent passages on freedom) in obedience to laws of our own making, defended by the strong arms and brave hearts of our own sons, aided (here the speaker permitted himself a smile of gentle humour) by the mighty wing of the American eagle (references to the Monroe Doctrine and its protection of Canada's shores) we shall abide in peace and security from all aggression and all alarm. (Thunderous and continued applause, during which the speaker resumed his seat.)

It was old McTavish who precipitated the trouble. The old Highlander belonged to a family that boasted a long line of fighting forbears. Ever since The Forty-five when the German king for the time occupying the English throne astutely diverted the martial spirit of the Scottish clans from the business of waging war against his own armies, their chief occupation, to that of fighting his continental foes, The McTavish was to be found ever in the foremost ranks of British men-of-war, joyously doing battle for his clan and for his king, who, if the truth were told, he regarded with scant loyalty. Like so many of the old timers in western Canada, this particular McTavish had been at one time a servant of the Hudson Bay Company and as such had done his part in the occupation, peaceful and otherwise, of the vast territories administered by that great trading company. In his fiery fighting soul there burned a passionate loyalty to the name and fame of the land of his birth, and a passionate pride in the Empire under whose flag the Company's ships had safely sailed the northern seas and had safely traded in these vast wild lands for nearly three hundred years. Deep as this loyalty and pride in the soul of him there lay a cold suspicion of the Yankee. He had met him in those old days of trade war, had suffered and had seen his Company suffer from his wiles, and finally had been compelled to witness with bitter but unavailing hate the steady encroachment of those rival traders upon the ancient prerogatives and preserves of his own Company, once the sole and undisputed lords of the northern half of the American continent. In the person of Mr. Alvin P. Jones, McTavish saw the representative of those ancient enemies of his, and in the oration to which he had just listened he fancied he detected a note of disloyalty to the flag, a suggestion of a break in the allegiance of Canada to the Empire, and worst of all, a hint that Canada might safely depend for protection upon something other than the naval power which had guarded the shores of his country these many years from enemy invasion. These things wrought in old McTavish an uncontrollable anger, and no sooner had the tumultuous applause died away than he was on his feet and in a high, rasping voice demanding audience.

"Will ye per-r-rmit me, Mr. Chair-r-rman, a few words in regar-r-d to the remarkable address to which we haf listened?" Permission was graciously granted by the chairman, surprise and complaisant delight mantling the steaming face of Mr. Alvin P. Jones, albeit at his heart there lurked a certain uneasiness, for on more than one occasion had he suffered under the merciless heckling of the little Scotchman.

"'Tis a wonderful address we haf been hearing, an eloquent address. Some of it iss true an' some of it iss lies [commotion in the audience—the smile on Mr. Alvin P. Jones's face slightly less expansive]. The speaker has told us about Canada, its great extent, its vast r-r-resources. Some of us haf known about these things while yet his mother was still sucking him [snickers of delight from the younger members of the audience and cries of, 'Go to it, Mack]. 'Tis a great Dominion whatefer and will be a gr-r-reater Dominion yet so lang as it keeps to right ways. He has told us of the mighty achievements of Cher-r-rmany. I will jist be askin' him what has Cher-r-rmany done for this country or for any country but her ainsel? She has cluttered us up wi' pot-metal, cutlery an' such things, an' cheap cloth that ye can put yer finger through, an' that will be done in a month's wear-r-ring. Musick, ye'll be sayin'! Musick! I was in Calgary not long since. They took me to what they will be callin' a music-kale [delighted roars of laughter from the audience]. A music-kale indeed! I haf hear-r-rd of cauld kale an' het kale, of kale porridge an' kale brose, but nefer haf I hear-r-rd before of a music-kale. Bless me, man, I cud make neither head nor tail o' it, and they wer-r-re no better themsel's. They had printed notes about it an' a bit man makin' a speech about it, but not one of them knew a thing about the hale hypotheck. Musick, quare musick I call it! If it is musick yer wantin', gif me Angus there wi' the pipes [wild cheers testifying to Angus's popularity] or the master-r-r himsel' an' the young lady here [this with a courteous bow to Miss Switzer] wi' their feeddles. That's what I will be callin' musick. An' lairnin'! Lairnin' that will lay sacraleegious hands upon the Sacred Word, an' tear-r-r it to bits. That like thing the Cher-r-rman lairnin' is doin', and ye can ask Mr. Rhye yonder. An' other things the Cher-r-rmans are doin' that keep us all from restin' quiet in our beds. Let them come her-r-re to us if they will. Let them come from all the countries of the ear-r-rth. We will share wi' them what we haf, provided they will be behavin' themsel's and mindin' their peeziness. But this man is sayin' somethin' more. He is tellin' us how safe we are, an' that the great Republic south o' us will be guar-r-rdin' us frae our enemies. I doubt it will be the fox guar-r-rdin' the chicken frae the weasel. Now I'll ask this gentleman what it is that has guar-r-rded these shores for the past two hundred and fifty year-r-rs? I will tell him—the Br-r-ritish Navy. What has kept the peace of Europe once an' again? The Br-r-ritish Navy. Aye, what has protected America not once or twice frae her enemies? The Br-r-ritish Navy, an' that same Br-r-ritish Navy is gude enough fer me."

The tumultuous din that followed the conclusion of the cantankerous little Highlander's speech was beyond all words, but before the chairman could get to his feet, through the uproar a voice strident with passion was demanding a hearing. "Mr. Ernest Switzer has the floor," said the chairman.

The young man's face was white and his voice shaking when he began. "Mr. Chairman, Ladies and Gentlemen: I stand here to claim the fair play that you say is British for myself and for my race. I am a Canadian citizen. I was born in America, but my blood is German. As a Canadian citizen, as an American by birth, as a German by blood, I have been insulted to-night, and I demand the right to reply to the man who has insulted me. There are Canadians here to guard their own honour; the Americans can be trusted to protect themselves. Germany is not here to refute the slanders uttered against her, but I claim the honour to speak for that great nation, for she is a great nation. There is none greater. There is none so great in the world to-day." The young man's voice rang out with passionate conviction, his pale set face, his blue eyes flaming with rage proclaimed the intensity of his emotion. Before his flaming passion the audience was subdued into a silence tense and profound. "What has Germany done for the world? this man asks. I would like to ask in reply where he has lived for the last twenty-five years, and if during those years he has read anything beyond his local newspaper? What has Germany done for the world? Germany has shown the way to the world, even to America, in every activity of life, in industrial organisation, in scientific inquiry in the laboratory and in the practical application of science to every-day life. Where do your philosophers go for their training? To German universities where they seek to understand the philosophy of the immortal Emanuel Kant. Where in the world has social reform reached its highest achievement? In Germany. Where do you go for your models for municipal government? To Germany. Mention any department of human enterprise to-day and in that department Germany stands easily in the lead. This man asks what has kept Europe at peace all these years, and suggests the British Navy, the one constant menace to the peace of Europe and to the freedom of the seas. No, if you ask who has kept the peace of Europe I will tell you. The German Kaiser, Wilhelm II. To him and to the Empire of which he is the glorious head Europe owes its peace and the world its greatest blessings to-day."

When Switzer sat down a half a dozen men were on their feet demanding to be heard. Above the din a quiet, but penetrating voice was distinguished. "Mr. Romayne has the floor," said the Reverend Mr. Rhye, who himself was tingling with desire for utterance. Mr. Romayne's appearance and voice suggested the boredom of one who felt the whole thing to be rather a nuisance.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," he began, "I must apologise for venturing to speak at all, having so recently come to this country, though I am glad to say that I have been received with such cordial kindness that I do not feel myself a stranger."

"You're all right, Jack," cried a voice. "You're right at home."

"I am at home," said Jack, "and that is one thing that makes me able to speak. Few of you can understand the feeling that comes to one who, travelling six thousand miles away from the heart of the Empire, finds himself still among his own folk and under the same old flag. Nor can I express the immense satisfaction and pride that come to me when I find here in this new world a virile young nation offering a welcome to men of all nationalities, an equal opportunity to make home and fortune for themselves, and find also these various nationalities uniting in the one purpose of building solid and secure an outpost of the Empire to which we all belong. I rise chiefly to say two things. The first is that if Germany continues in her present mind she will be at war with our country within a very short time. The young man who has just sat down assures us that Germany is a great country. Let us at once frankly grant this fact, for indeed it is a fact. Whether she is as wonderful or as great as she thinks herself to be may be doubted. But it is of importance to know that the opinion stated here to-night is the opinion held by the whole body of the German people from the Kaiser to the lowest peasant in the Empire. The universal conviction throughout that Empire is that not only is Germany the greatest nation on earth, but that it has a divine mission to confer her own peculiar quality of civilisation upon the other nations of Europe, and indeed upon the whole world. We might not quarrel with Germany for cherishing this pleasing opinion in regard to herself, but when this opinion is wrought into a purpose to dominate the whole world in order that this mission might be accomplished the thing takes on a somewhat serious aspect. Let me repeat, Germany is a great nation, marvellously organised in every department of her life, agricultural, manufacturing, educational, commercial. But to what intent? What is the purpose dominating this marvellous organisation? The purpose, Ladies and Gentlemen, is war. The supreme industry of the German nation is the manufacturing of a mighty war machine. I challenge the gentleman who has just spoken to deny either of these statements, that Germany believes that she has a definite mission to lift up the other nations of Europe to her own high level and that to fulfil this mission it is necessary that she be in a position of control." The speaker paused for a moment or two. "He cannot deny these because he knows they are true. The second thing I wish to say is that the Kaiser means war and is waiting only for the favourable moment. I believe it is correct to say that for many years after his accession to the throne he used his influence on the side of peace, but I have every reason to believe that for some years past he has cherished another purpose, the purpose of war."

At this point Switzer sprang to his feet and cried, "I challenge the truth of that statement. Modern European history proves it to be false, and again and again the Kaiser has prevented war. So much is this the case that the trustees of the only European fund that recognises distinguished service in the interests of peace bestowed upon the Kaiser the Nobel Prize."

"That is quite true," replied Mr. Romayne. "But let me recall to this young man's mind a few facts. In 1875 Bismarck was determined to make war upon France. He was prevented by the united action of England and Russia. Germany made the same attempt in '87 and '91. In 1905 so definite was the threat of war that France avoided it only by dismissing her war minister, Delcasse. Perhaps my young friend remembers the Casablanca incident in 1908 where again the Kaiser threatened France with war. Indeed, for the last twenty years, even while he was doubtless anxious to maintain peace, he has been rattling his sword in his scabbard and threatening war against the various nations of Europe. In most of these cases even when he wanted peace he bluffed with threats of war. Then came the Agadir incident in 1911 when once more the Kaiser bluffed. But Great Britain called his bluff that time and the great War Lord had to back down with great loss of prestige not only with his own people but with the whole of Europe. It hurt the Kaiser to think that any nation in Europe should move in any direction without his consent. Agadir taught him that he must quit bluffing or make up his mind to fight."

Again Switzer was upon his feet. "This is a slanderous falsehood," he cried. "How does this man know?"

"I happened to be there," was the quiet reply.

"How do we know?" again cried Switzer.

"Will you kindly repeat that remark?" said Mr. Romayne quietly.

"I believe this statement," shouted Switzer, "to be a slanderous falsehood."

"If you accuse me of falsehood," said Romayne even more quietly, "that is a matter of which we shall not discuss here, but later. But these statements that I have made are history. All Germany knows, all Europe knows, that at Agadir the Kaiser backed down. He was not ready to fight, and he lost prestige by it. When Italy, one of the Triple Alliance, went to war against Turkey without consulting him, this lowered still further German prestige. In the late Balkan War Germany was again humiliated. She backed the wrong horse. Her protege and pupil in war, Turkey, was absolutely beaten. These things convince me that Germany knows that her hope of dominating Europe is rapidly waning, and she believes that this hope can only be realised by war and, therefore, I repeat that the Kaiser and his people are only waiting a favourable moment to launch war upon Europe and more particularly upon the British Empire, which, along with the great American democracy, stands between her and the realisation of her dream."

"The British Empire!" cried Switzer scornfully as Romayne took his seat, "the British Empire! at the first stern blow this ramshackle empire will fall to pieces. Then Great Britain will be forced to surrender her robber hold upon these great free states which she has stolen and which she now keeps in chains." (Cries of "Never!" "Rot!" "Shut your trap!") Switzer sprang to his feet and, shaking his fist in their faces, cried: "I know what I am saying. This you will see before many months have passed."

Again Romayne rose to his feet and waited till a silence fell upon the audience. "Ladies and Gentlemen," he said solemnly, "this German officer knows what he is talking about. That Germany within a few months will make her supreme attempt to smash the British Empire I believe is certain. I am equally certain that the result of that attempt will not be what this gentleman anticipates and desires."

For some moments the silence remained unbroken. Then young Monteith sprang to his feet and led the audience in a succession of mad cheers that indicated the depth of passion to which they were stirred. After the cheering had subsided Larry rose and in a slightly querulous tone and with a humorous smile upon his face he said:

"Mr. Chairman, don't you think we are becoming unnecessarily serious? And are there not certain things on which we all agree? First that we are all Canadians, first, last and all the time. Secondly, that we greatly respect and admire our American cousins and we desire only better mutual acquaintance for our mutual good. Third, that we are loyal to and immensely proud of our Empire, and we mean to stick to it. And fourth, that Germany is a great country and has done great things for the world. As to the historical questions raised, these are not settled by discussion but by reliable historic documents. As to the prophecies made, we can accept or reject them as we choose. Personally I confess that I am unable to get up any real interest in this German war menace. I believe Germany has more sense, not to say proper Christian feeling, than to plunge herself and the world into war. I move, Mr. Chairman, that we pass to the next order of business."

"Hear! Hear!" cried some. "Go on with the programme."

"No! No!" said others. "Let's have it out."

"Mr. Chairman," said Hec Ross, rising to his feet, "this thing is better than any silly old programme, let's have it out."

But the chairman, much against his inclination, for he was a fighter, ruled otherwise. "The differences that separate us from one another here to-night are not differences that can be settled by argument. They are differences that are due partly to our history and partly to the ideals which we cherish. We shall go on with the programme."

At first the people were in no mood for mere amusement. They had been made to face for a brief moment the great and stern reality of war. The words and more the manner of Jack Romayne had produced a deep sense in their minds of the danger of a European conflagration, and the ominous words of the young German spoken as from intimate knowledge only served to deepen the impression made by Romayne. But the feeling was transitory, and speedily the possibility of war was dismissed as unthinkable. The bogey of a German war was familiar and therefore losing its power to disturb them. So after two or three musical numbers had been given the audience had settled back into its normal state of mind which accepted peace as the natural and permanent condition for the world.

The entertainment would have come to a perfectly proper and harmonious close had it not been for the unrestrained exuberance of Sam's humorous qualities on the one hand and the complete absence of sense of humour in Ernest Switzer on the other. The final number on the programme, which was to be a series of humorous character sketches, had been left entirely in Sam's hands and consisted of a trilogy representing the characteristics as popularly conceived of the French Canadian habitant, the humorous Irishman and the obese Teuton. Sam's early association with the vaudeville stage had given him a certain facility in the use of stage properties and theatrical paraphernalia generally, and this combined with a decided gift of mimicry enabled him to produce a really humorous if somewhat broadly burlesqued reproduction of these characters. In the presentation of his sketch Sam had reserved to the close his representation of the obese Teuton. The doings of this Teuton, while sending the audience into roars of laughter, had quite a different effect upon Switzer, who after a few moments of wrathful endurance made toward the rear of the audience.

Meantime the obese Teuton has appeared upon the stage in a famished condition demanding vociferously and plaintively from the world at large sausage. But no sausage is available. At this point a stray dog wanders upon the stage. With a cry of delight the famished Teuton seizes the unfortunate cur and joyously announcing that now sausage he will have, forthwith disappears. Immediately from the wings arise agonised canine howlings with which mingles the crashing of machinery. Gradually the howlings die into choking silence while the crash of the machinery proceeds for a few moments longer. Thereupon reappears the Teuton, ecstatic and triumphant, bearing with him a huge sausage, which he proceeds to devour with mingled lamentations over his departed "hund" and raptures over its metamorphosed condition. In the midst of this mingled lamentation and rapture is heard in the distance upon a mouth organ band the sound of the German national air. The Teuton is startled, drops his sausage upon the stage and exclaiming "Der Kronprinz," hastily beats a retreat.

At the mention of this august name Switzer disappears from the rear of the audience and makes his way to the back of the stage. In the meantime, to the accompaniment of organs and drums, appears upon the stage no less a personage than "der Kronprinz," to the reproduction of whose features Sam's peculiar facial appearance admirably lends itself. From this point the action proceeds with increased rapidity. No sooner had "der Kronprinz," who is also in a famished condition, appeared upon the stage than his eyes light upon the sausage. With a cry of delight he seizes it and proceeds ravenously to devour it. But at the first mouthful renewed howlings arise. "Der Kronprinz," in a state of intense excitement, drops his sausage and begins a wild search in the corners of the stage and in the wings for the source of the uproar. The sausage thus abandoned, aided by an invisible cord, wabbles off the stage before the eyes of the wondering and delighted audience. Thereafter "der Kronprinz" reappears with his "hund" under his arm and begins an active and distracted search for his precious sausage. Disappointed in his search for the sausage and rendered desperate by his famished condition, he seizes the wretched cur and begins gnawing at the tail and retires from the scene, accompanied by the howls of the unhappy canine and the applauding shouts of the audience.

Meantime while Sam is engaged in executing a lightning change from the role of "der Kronprinz" to that of the original obese Teuton, Switzer beside himself with rage comes upon him at the precise moment when he is engaged in tying up his shoe preparatory to making his final entry upon the stage. The posture is irresistibly inviting. The next instant the astonished audience beholds the extraordinary spectacle of the obese Teuton under the impulse of the irate Switzer's boot in rapid flight across the stage upon all fours, bearing down with terrific speed upon the rear of the unsuspecting chairman who, facing the audience and with a genial smile upon his countenance, is engaged in applauding Sam's previous performance. Making frantic but futile efforts to recover himself, Sam plunges head on with resistless impact full upon the exact spot where the legs of the parson effect a junction with the rest of his person and carries that gentleman with him clear off the stage and fairly upon the top of old McTavish, who at that moment is engaged in conversation with little Miss Haight immediately behind him. Immediately there is a terrific uproar, in which through the delighted yells of the crowd, the crashing of the overturned chairs, and the general confusion could be heard the shrieks of the little spinster and weird Scotch oaths from McTavish. After the noise had somewhat subsided and when the confusion had been reduced to a semblance of order, McTavish was discovered with his hand upon the collar of the dazed parson who in turn held the obese Teuton in a firm and wrathful grip, at which once more the whole crowd rocked with an unholy but uncontrollable joy.

It was Larry who saved the situation by appearing upon the stage and gravely announcing that this unfortunate catastrophe was due to a sudden international upheaval which as usual in such cases had come about in an absolutely unexpected manner and as a result of misunderstandings and mistakes for which no one could be held responsible. He proposed in the name of the audience votes of thanks to those who had laboured so diligently to make the Dominion Day celebration so great a success, especially to the ladies and gentlemen who had served upon the various committees, to the speakers of the evening, to those who had provided the entertainment, and last but not least to the chairman who had presided with such grace and dignity over the proceedings of the evening. The motion was carried with tumultuous applause, and after the singing of "The Maple Leaf" and the national anthem, the meeting came to a close.

After the entertainment was over Larry and his mother slowly took the trail homewards, declining many offers of a lift from their friends in cars and carriages. It was the Harvest Moon. Upon the folds of the rolling prairie, upon the round tops of the hills, upon the broad valleys, and upon the far-away peaks in the west the white light lay thick and soft like a mantle. Above the white-mantled world the concave of the sky hung blue and deep and pricked out with pale star points. About the world the night had thrown her mystic jewelled robes of white and blue, making a holy shrine, a very temple of peace for God and man. For some minutes they walked together in silence, after they had bidden good-night to the last of their friends.

"What a world it is, Mother!" said Larry, gazing about him at the beauty of the night.

"Yes, but alas, alas, that God's own children should spoil all this glory with hatred and strife! This very night in the unhappy Balkan States men are killing each other. It is too sad and too terrible to think of. Oh, if men would be content only to do justly by each other."

"Those people of the Balkan States are semi-barbarians," said Larry, "and therefore war between them is to be expected; but I cannot get myself to believe in the possibility of war between Christians, civilised nations to-day. But, Mother, for the first time in my life, listening to those two men, Romayne and Switzer, I had a feeling that war might be possible. Switzer seemed so eager for it, and so sure about it, didn't he? And Romayne, too, seemed ready to fight. But then I always remember that military men and military nations are for ever talking war."

"That is quite true, my dear," said his mother. "I too find it difficult to believe that war is possible in spite of what we have heard to-night. Our Friends at Home do not believe that war is imminent. They tell me that the feeling between Germany and Britain is steadily improving."

"And yet two years ago, Mother, in connection with the Agadir incident war might have happened any minute."

"That is true," replied his mother, "but every year of peace makes war less likely. The Friends are working and praying for a better understanding between these nations, and they are very confident that these peace delegations that are exchanging visits are doing a great deal for peace. Your Uncle Matthew, who has had a great deal to do with them, is very hopeful that a few years of peace will carry us past the danger point."

"Well, I hope so, Mother. I loathe the very thought of war," said Larry. "I think I am like you in this. I never did fight, you know; as a boy I always got out of it. Do you know, Mother, I think I would be afraid to fight."

"I hope so," replied his mother. "Fighting is no work for man, but for brute."

"But you would not be afraid, Mother. I know you would stand up to anything."

"Oh, no, no," cried his mother. "I could stand up to very little. After all, it is only God that makes strong to endure."

"But it is not quite the question of enduring, it is not the suffering, Mother. It is the killing. I don't believe I could kill a man, and yet in the Bible they were told to kill."

"But surely, Larry, we read our Bible somewhat differently these days. Surely we have advanced since the days of Abraham. We do not find our Lord and master commanding men to kill."

"But, Mother, in these present wars should not men defend their women and children from such outrages as we read about?"

"When it comes to the question of defending women and children it seems to me that the question is changed," said his mother. "As to that I can never quite make up my mind, but generally speaking we hold that it is the Cross, not the sword, that will save the world from oppression and break the tyrant's power."

"But after all, Mother," replied Larry, "it was not Smithfield that saved England's freedom, but Naseby."

"Perhaps both Naseby and Smithfield," said his mother. "I am not very wise in these things."

At the door of their house they came upon Nora sitting in the moonlight. "Did you meet Ernest and Mr. Romayne?" she inquired. "They've only gone five minutes or so. They walked down with us."

"No, we did not meet them."

"You must be tired after the wild excitement of the day, Mother," said Nora. "I think you had better go at once to bed. As for me, I am going for a swim."

"That's bully; I'm with you," said Larry.

In a few minutes they were dressed in their bathing suits, and, wrapped up in their mackintosh coats, they strolled toward the little lake.

"Let's sit a few moments and take in this wonderful night," said Nora. "Larry, I want to talk to you about what we heard to-night from those two men. They made me feel that war was not only possible but near."

"It did not impress me in the very least," said Larry. "They talked as military men always talk. They've got the war bug. These men have both held commissions in their respective armies. Romayne, of course, has seen war, and they look at everything from the military point of view."

As he was speaking there came across the end of the lake the sound of voices. Over the water the still air carried the words distinctly to their ears.

"Explain what?" It was Switzer's voice they heard, loud and truculent.

"Just what you meant by the words 'slanderous falsehood' which you used to-night," replied a voice which they recognised to be Jack Romayne's.

"I meant just what I said."

"Did you mean to impugn my veracity, because—"

"Because what?"

"Because if you did I should have to slap your face just now."

"Mein Gott! You—!"

"Not so loud," said Romayne quietly, "unless you prefer an audience."

"You schlap my face!" cried the German, in his rage losing perfect control of his accent. "Ach, if you were only in my country, we could settle this in the only way."

"Perhaps you will answer my question." Romayne's voice was low and clear and very hard. "Did you mean to call me a liar? Yes or no."

"A liar," replied the German, speaking more quietly. "No, it is not a question of veracity. It is a question of historical accuracy."

"Oh, very well. That's all."

"No, it is not all," exclaimed the German. "My God, that I should have to take insult from you! In this country of barbarians there is no way of satisfaction except by the beastly, the savage method of fists, but some day we will show you schwein of England—"

"Stop!" Romayne's voice came across the water with a sharp ring like the tap of a hammer on steel. "You cannot use your hands, I suppose? That saves you, but if you say any such words again in regard to England or Englishmen, I shall have to punish you."

"Punish me!" shouted the German. "Gott in Himmel, that I must bear this!"

"They are going to fight," said Nora in an awed and horrified voice. "Oh, Larry, do go over."

"He-l-l-o," cried Larry across the water. "That you, Switzer? Who is that with you? Come along around here, won't you?"

There was a silence of some moments and then Romayne's voice came quietly across the water. "That you, Gwynne? Rather late to come around, I think. I am off for home. Well, Switzer, that's all, I think, just now. I'll say good-night." There was no reply from Switzer.

"You won't come then?" called Larry. "Well, goodnight, both of you."

"Good-night, good-night," came from both men.

"Do you think they will fight?" said Nora.

"No, I think not. There's Switzer riding off now. What fools they are."

"And Jack Romayne is so quiet and gentlemanly," said Nora.

"Quiet, yes, and gentlemanly, yes too. But I guess he'd be what Sam calls a 'bad actor' in a fight. Oh, these men make me tired who can't have a difference of opinion but they must think of fighting."

"Oh, Larry, I don't understand you a bit," cried Nora. "Of course they want to fight when they get full of rage. I would myself."

"I believe you," said Larry. "You are a real Irish terrier. You are like father. I am a Quaker, or perhaps there's another word for it. I only hope I shall never be called on to prove just what I am. Come on, let's go in."

For a half hour they swam leisurely to and fro in the moonlit water. But before they parted for the night Nora returned to the subject which they had been discussing.

"Larry, I don't believe you are a coward. I could not believe that of you," she said passionately; "I think I would rather die."

"Well, don't believe it then. I hope to God I am not, but then one can never tell. I cannot see myself hitting a man on the bare face, and as for killing a fellow being, I would much rather die myself. Is that being a coward?"

"But if that man," breathed Nora hurriedly, for the household were asleep, "if that man mad with lust and rage were about to injure your mother or your sisters—"

"Ah," said Larry, drawing in his breath quickly, "that would be different, eh?"

"Good-night, you dear goose," said his sister, kissing him quickly. "I am not afraid for you."



CHAPTER XII

MEN AND A MINE

It was early in July that Mr. Gwynne met his family with a proposition which had been elaborated by Ernest Switzer to form a company for the working of Nora's mine. With characteristic energy and thoroughness Switzer had studied the proposition from every point of view, and the results of his study he had set down in a document which Mr. Gwynne laid before his wife and children for consideration. It appeared that the mine itself had been investigated by expert friends of Switzer's from the Lethbridge and Crows' Nest mines. The reports of these experts were favourable to a degree unusual with practical mining men, both as to the quality and quantity of coal and as to the cost of operation. The quality was assured by the fact that the ranchers in the neighbourhood for years had been using the coal in their own homes. In addition to this Switzer had secured a report from the Canadian Pacific Railway engineers showing that the coal possessed high steaming qualities. And as to quantity, the seam could be measured where the creek cut through, showing enough coal in sight to promise a sufficient supply to warrant operation for years to come. In brief, the report submitted by the young German was that there was every ground for believing that a paying mine, possibly a great mine, could be developed from the property on Mr. Gwynne's land. In regard to the market, there was of course no doubt. Every ton of coal produced could be sold at the mine mouth without difficulty. There remained only the question of finance to face. This also Switzer had considered, and the result of his consideration was before them in a detailed scheme. By this scheme a local company was to be organised with a capitalisation of $500,000, which would be sufficient to begin with. Of this amount $200,000 should be assigned to the treasury, the remaining $300,000 disposed of as follows: to Mr. Gwynne, as owner of the mine, should be allotted $151,000 stock, thus giving him control; the remaining $149,000 stock should be placed locally. The proposition contained an offer from Switzer to organise the company and to place the stock, in consideration for which service he asked a block of stock such as the directors should agree upon, and further that he should be secretary of the company for a term of five years at a salary of $2,000 per annum, which should be a first charge upon the returns from the mine.