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Bindloss, Harold, 1866-1945

"Winston of the Prairie"

Would to-morrow suit you?"
"No," said Winston. "I will come to-day."
It was early next morning when they stepped out of the stove-warmed car
into the stinging cold of the prairie. Fur-clad figures, showing
shapeless in the creeping light, clustered about them, and Winston felt
himself thumped on the shoulders by mittened hands, while Alfreton's
young voice broke through the murmurs of welcome.
"Let him alone while he's hungry," he said. "It's the first time in
its history they've had breakfast ready at this hour in the hotel, and
it would not have been accomplished if I hadn't spent most of yesterday
playing cards with the man who keeps it, and making love to the young
women!"
"That's quite right," said another lad. "When he takes his cap off
you'll see how one of them rewarded him, but come along, Winston.
It--is--ready."
The greetings might, of course, have been expressed differently, but
Winston also was not addicted to displaying all he felt, and the little
ring in the lads' voices was enough for him. As they moved towards the
hotel he saw that Dane was looking at him.
"Well?" said the latter, "you see they want you."
That was probably the most hilarious breakfast that had ever been held
in the wooden hotel, and before it was over, three of his companions
had said to Winston, "Of course you'll drive in with me!"
"Boys," he said, as they put their furs on, and his voice shook a
trifle, "I can't ride in with everybody who has asked me unless you
dismember me.


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