At last there entered a gentleman whose picture I had so often seen in the papers--a man as well known in the sporting world as was Chamberlain in the political world.

He was dressed spectacularly, but his face oozed good-nature, though his eyes were like bright bits of coal.

He bred horses, he raced this, he backed that, he laid against the other; he was one of the greatest plungers, one of the biggest figures on the turf.

He had been a kind of god to me--a god in a grey frock-coat, with a grey top-hat and field-glasses slung over his shoulder; or in a hunting-suit of the most picturesque kind--great pockets in a well-fitting coat, splendid striped waistcoat.

Well, there, I only mention this because it played so big a part in bringing me to Askatoon.
"He came up to the table where I sat in the room with the beautiful Adam's fireplace and the ceiling like an architrave of Valhalla, and said, 'Do you mind--for one minute ?' and he reached out a hand for the book.
"I made way for him, and I suppose admiration showed in my eyes, because as he hastily wrote--what a generous scrawl it was!--he said to me, 'Haven't we met somewhere before?
I seem to remember your face.
"Great gentleman, I thought, because it was certain he knew he had never seen me before, and I was overcome by the reflection that he wished to be civil in that way to me.