Ferris stared up at him, and his face showed almost livid through the luminous night.

“She asked you to!” he said.  “By the Lord, I’ll make you sorry for this.”

Winston said nothing, but shook the reins, and when the wagon lurched forward Dane looked at him.

“I didn’t know that before,” he said.

“Well,” said Winston dryly, “if I hadn’t lost my temper with the lad, you wouldn’t have known now.”

Dane smiled.  “You miss the point of it.  Our engaging friend made himself the laughing-stock of the colony by favoring Maud Barrington with his attentions when he came out.  In fact, I fancy the lady in desperation had to turn her uncle loose on him before he could be made to understand that they were not appreciated.  I’d keep my eye on him, Courthorne, for the little beast has shown himself abominably vindictive occasionally, though I have a notion he’s scarcely to be held accountable.  It’s a case of too pure a strain and consanguinity.  Two branches of the family—­marriage between land and money, you see.”

“It will be my heel if he gets in my way,” said Winston grimly.

It was late when they reached his homestead, where Dane was to stay the night, and when they went in a youthful figure in uniform rose up in the big log-walled hall.  For a moment Winston’s heart almost stood still, and then holding himself in hand by a strenuous effort, he moved forward and stood where the light of a lamp did not shine quite fully upon him.  He knew that uniform, and he had also seen the lad who wore it, once or twice before, at an outpost six hundred miles away across the prairie.  He knew the risk he took was great, but it was evident to him that if his identity escaped detection at first sight, use would do the rest, and while he had worn a short-pointed beard on the Western prairie, he was cleanly shaven now.

The lad stood quite still a moment staring at him, and Winston returning his gaze steadily felt his pulses throb.

“Well, trooper, what has brought you here?” he said.

“Homestead visitation, sir,” said the lad, who had a pleasant English voice.  “Mr. Courthorne, I presume—­accept my regrets if I stared too hard at you—­but for a moment you reminded me of a man I knew.  They’ve changed us round lately, and I’m from the Alberta squadron just sent into this district.  It was late when I rode in, and your people were kind enough to put me up.”

Winston laughed.  “I have been taken for another man before.  Would you like anything to drink, or a smoke before you turn in, trooper?”

“No, sir,” said the lad.  “If you’ll sign my docket to show I’ve been here, I’ll get some sleep.  I’ve sixty miles to ride to-morrow.”

Winston did as he was asked, and the trooper withdrew, while when they sat down to a last cigar it seemed to Dane that his companion’s face was graver than usual.

“Did you notice the lad’s astonishment when you came in?” he asked.  “He looked very much as if he had seen a ghost.”