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.
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