I shall take up land, and go into politics." "Politics ?" repeated Elizabeth, wishing she might some day know what politics meant in Canada.

"You're not married ?" she added pleasantly.
"I am not married." "And may I ask your name ?" His name, it seemed, was George Anderson, and presently as they walked up and down he became somewhat communicative about himself, though always within the limits, as it seemed to her, of a natural dignity, which developed indeed as their acquaintance progressed.

He told her tales, especially, of his Indian journeys through the wilds about the Athabasca and Mackenzie rivers, in search of remote Indian settlements--that the word of England to the red man might be kept; and his graphic talk called up before her the vision of a northern wilderness, even wilder and remoter than that she had just passed through, where yet the earth teemed with lakes and timber and trout-bearing streams, and where--"we shall grow corn some day," as he presently informed her.

"In twenty years they will have developed seed that will ripen three weeks earlier than wheat does now in Manitoba.
Then we shall settle that country--right away!--to the far north." His tone stirred and deepened.

A little while before, it had seemed to her that her tourist enthusiasm amused him.