Young Dallas, who had a great thirst for information, said coaxingly, "I suppose you got ill and came here for your health."
"No, my lad, I wasn't ill, but I knew I would be if I didn't stop breathing dust."
"Street dust, Captain?"
"Different kinds of dust. I was one of a struggling ant-heap. There was system and order, but no beauty, and I love beauty."
"In my city," said the boy thoughtfully, "there was some dust and much loneliness—but it is a very fine place."
"Your life was abnormal. The boys in my city were rushing from one place to another. They could not keep their minds on their books, and here was this beautiful calm north country with air like wine and crying out for settlers."
"Oh!" exclaimed my young master, "you are here to open up the country, but you are not poor. If you were, it would not be so agreeable."
"Why not? Of course money talks in the wilds as in cities, but our government helps men who wish to clear land. Boy!—it's a great life."
Dallas enveloped the big glowing figure of the man with a glance of warm admiration. "You are splendid, Captain."
Mr. Devering went on as if he did not hear him. "Some day I will tell you of our great clay belt further north. I am buying farms there for my boys. Then there is Hudson Bay with its iron ore, coal, silver and pulp wood almost untouched by man. I tell you, lad, this is a great country of ours."