Dreams these—dreams that kept the once easy-tongued Cyril dumb and still, and aroused the good-natured questions of the fellows in the bunkhouses. Little cared Cyril for their jokes. He knew that spring would soon be there, and then——
Spring, in fact, came early that year, ushered in miraculously on the wings of a magnificent Chinook, which blew without ceasing for four days and nights, its warm breath thawing the land so lately rigid with cold.
Nettie, driving along the road in the Doctor's democrat, turned about in the seat to stare, with mild wonder, at the three rolls of barbed wire and the heaped-up willow fence posts that were piled on the unbroken quarter by which they were now passing.
"My!" said Nettie, "looks like someone's took up this quarter. D'you know Who they are, doc?"
"Let's see. Seems to me I did hear that a Bar Q hand had staked here."
At the word "Bar Q," such a rush of color flooded the girl's face that, had the doctor been less intent upon driving the lagging team at a speed they were totally unused to, he might have surprised the girl's secret. But Dr. McDermott's eyes were fastened steadily ahead to where, across the bald prairie, his own first home in Alberta thrust its blunt head against the skyline. He was in a hurry to reach that long deserted shack.
From up the grade the figure of a horseman stood out in silhouette against the sun. Nettie's heart began to beat so wildly that she was obliged to grip the sleeve of the doctor's coat.
"That's right," he growled. "Hold on tight. These roads are a mortal disgrace—a disgrace to the community. Hello, there!"
Whip up, he hailed the rider, stopping long enough to give Cyril an opportunity to join them.
"How do, doc! Business good?"