A Man of Two Countries

								

stretched on the bank of the wide slough, O'Dwyer could be seen, not far
distant, sunning himself like a contented dog at his master's feet.
Long the English lad lay looking over the infinite reaches of tranquil
prairie, domed with a cloudless September sky.
This island in Old Man's River had become the little world in which he
lived. To the right was the Fort--a square stockade of cottonwood logs,
enclosing the low, mud-roofed officers' quarters, the barracks, the
quartermaster's stores, and the stables. To the left, and separated from
the fort by a gully, straggled the village of Fort Macleod. Conspicuous,
with its new board front, loomed the trading post of Robert Burroughs.
These beginnings of civilization seemed out of place in the splendid,
supreme calm of nature. Against the space and stillness it appeared
crude and impertinent.
Across the river he saw the Indian lodges, and heard the distant hallo
from rollicking comrades, swimming on the opposite side of the island.
The troopers, the traders and the 'breeds were as dependent upon one
another as if they were a colony upon an island in mid-ocean. He did not
care to be with these men, but he desired comradeship. How could he
overcome his natural reserve, make friends, yet not sacrifice his
individuality and family traditions? He recalled his father's haughty:
"Associate with your own kind, or walk the path alone." But he was too
young to find joy in aloofness. The facility of speech, the adaptive
moulding to another's mood was not in him!
"I'll have to be myself," he concluded. "I never cared before for men's
good-will; but Arthur Latimer's camaraderie has made me see things
differently."
O'Dwyer slept peacefully in the late afternoon, and Danvers envied him
the contentment of his simple nature. He drew a package of letters from
his red tunic and fingered them idly as he read the addresses. He
selected the last from Arthur Latimer and read again the already
familiar lines:



     I am coming to the Whoop Up Country with Scar Faced Charlie. He

     leaves again for Fort Macleod in about a week. The doctor says

     that office work is bad for me and that I ought to get out in the

     open for a year or two. Really I am curious to see you in your

     giddy uniform, and shall enjoy a visit, though if I could get work

     I might stay permanently.



     How is Burroughs progressing? Is he selling beads and tea to the

     Indians at a thousand per cent. profit, or selling them whisky on

     the Q. T. at fifty thousand per cent. profit? How are you and he

     hitting it off?



     I saw Miss Thornhill last week, but, between you and me, poor

     devils of lawyers are not what my lady wants.
As Danvers folded the letter and replaced it, he felt a thrill of
gladness at the thought of the meeting. There would be some one to share
his joy in the sunsets and the prairie distances.
Then the future swept toward him; he wondered if this companionship with