It was early in July that Mr. Gwynne met his family with a proposition which had been elaborated by Ernest Switzer to form a company for the working of Nora's mine. With characteristic energy and thoroughness Switzer had studied the proposition from every point of view, and the results of his study he had set down in a document which Mr. Gwynne laid before his wife and children for consideration. It appeared that the mine itself had been investigated by expert friends of Switzer's from the Lethbridge and Crows' Nest mines. The reports of these experts were favourable to a degree unusual with practical mining men, both as to the quality and quantity of coal and as to the cost of operation. The quality was assured by the fact that the ranchers in the neighbourhood for years had been using the coal in their own homes. In addition to this Switzer had secured a report from the Canadian Pacific Railway engineers showing that the coal possessed high steaming qualities. And as to quantity, the seam could be measured where the creek cut through, showing enough coal in sight to promise a sufficient supply to warrant operation for years to come. In brief, the report submitted by the young German was that there was every ground for believing that a paying mine, possibly a great mine, could be developed from the property on Mr. Gwynne's land. In regard to the market, there was of course no doubt. Every ton of coal produced could be sold at the mine mouth without difficulty. There remained only the question of finance to face. This also Switzer had considered, and the result of his consideration was before them in a detailed scheme. By this scheme a local company was to be organised with a capitalisation of $500,000, which would be sufficient to begin with. Of this amount $200,000 should be assigned to the treasury, the remaining $300,000 disposed of as follows: to Mr. Gwynne, as owner of the mine, should be allotted $151,000 stock, thus giving him control; the remaining $149,000 stock should be placed locally. The proposition contained an offer from Switzer to organise the company and to place the stock, in consideration for which service he asked a block of stock such as the directors should agree upon, and further that he should be secretary of the company for a term of five years at a salary of $2,000 per annum, which should be a first charge upon the returns from the mine.

"Ernest insists on being secretary?" said Nora.

"Yes, naturally. His interests are all here. He insists also that I be president."

"And why, Dad?" enquired Nora.

"Well," said Mr. Gwynne, with a slight laugh, "he frankly says he would like to be associated with me in this business. Of course, he said some nice things about me which I need not repeat."

"Oh pshaw!" exclaimed Nora, patting him on the shoulder, "I thought you were a lot smarter man than that. Can't you see why he wants to be associated with you? Surely you don't need me to tell you."

"Nora dear, hush," said her mother.

With an imploring look at her sister, Kathleen left the room.

"Indeed, Mother, I think it is no time to hush. I will tell you, Dad, why he wants to be associated with you in this coal mine business. Ernest Switzer wants our Kathleen. Mother knows it. We all know it."

Her father gazed at her in astonishment.

"Surely this is quite unwarranted, Nora," he said. "I cannot allow a matter of this kind to be dragged into a matter of business."

"How would it do to take a few days to turn it over in our minds?" said his wife. "We must not forget, dear," she continued, a note of grave anxiety in her voice, "that if we accept this proposition it will mean a complete change in our family life."

"Family life, Mother," said Mr. Gwynne with some impatience. "You don't mean--"

"I mean, my dear," replied the mother, "that we shall no longer be ranchers, but shall become coal miners. Let us think it over and perhaps you might consult with some of our neighbours, say with Mr. Waring-Gaunt."

"Surely, surely," replied her husband. "Your advice is wise, as always. I shall just step over to Mr. Waring-Gaunt's immediately."

After Mr. Gwynne's departure, the others sat silent for some moments, their minds occupied with the question raised so abruptly by Nora.

"You may as well face it, Mother," said the girl. "Indeed, you must face it, and right now. If this Company goes on with Ernest as secretary, it means that he will necessarily be thrown into closer relationship with our family. This will help his business with Kathleen. This is what he means. Do you wish to help it on?"

The mother sat silent, her face showing deep distress. "Nora dear," at length she said, "this matter is really not in our hands. Surely you can see that. I can't discuss it with you." And so saying she left the room.

"Now, Nora," said Larry severely, "you are not to worry Mother. And besides you can't play Providence in this way. You must confess that you have a dreadful habit of trying to run things. I believe you would have a go at running the universe."

"Run things?" cried Nora. "Why not? There is altogether too much of letting things slide in this family. It is all very well to trust to Providence. Providence made the trees grow in the woods, but this house never would have been here if Mr. Sleighter had not got on to the job. Now I am going to ask you a straight question. Do you want Ernest Switzer to have Kathleen?"

"Well, he's a decent sort and a clever fellow," began Larry.

"Now, Larry, you may as well cut that 'decent sort,' 'clever fellow' stuff right out. I want to know your mind. Would you like to see Ernest Switzer have Kathleen, or not?"

"Would you?" retorted her brother.

"No. I would not," emphatically said Nora.

"Why not?"

"To tell the truth, ever since that concert night I feel I can't trust him. He is different from us. He is no real Canadian. He is a German."

"Well, Nora, you amaze me," said Larry. "What supreme nonsense you are talking! You have got that stuff of Romayne's into your mind. The war bug has bitten you too. For Heaven's sake be reasonable. If you object to Ernest because of his race, I am ashamed of you and have no sympathy with you."

"Not because of his race," said Nora, "though, Larry, let me tell you he hates Britain. I was close to him that night, and hate looked out of his eyes. But let that pass. I have seen Ernest with 'his women' as he calls them, and, Larry, I can't bear to think of our Kathleen being treated as he treats his mother and sister."

"Now, Nora, let us be reasonable. Let us look at this fairly," began Larry.

"Oh, Larry! stop or I shall be biting the furniture next. When you assume that judicial air of yours I want to swear. Answer me. Do you want him to marry Kathleen? Yes or no."

"Well, as I was about to say--"

"Larry, will you answer yes or no?"

"Well, no, then," said Larry.

"Thank God!" cried Nora, rushing at him and shaking him vigorously. "You wretch! Why did you keep me in suspense? How I wish that English stick would get a move on!"

"English stick? Whom do you mean?"

"You're as stupid as the rest, Larry. Whom should I mean? Jack Romayne, of course. There's a man for you. I just wish he'd waggle his finger at me! But he won't do things. He just 'glowers' at her, as old McTavish would say, with those deep eyes of his, and sets his jaw like a wolf trap, and waits. Oh, men are so stupid with women!"

"Indeed?" said Larry. "And how exactly?"

"Why doesn't he just make her love him, master her, swing her off her feet?" said Nora.

"Like Switzer, eh? The cave man idea?"

"No, no. Surely you see the difference?"

"Pity my ignorance and elucidate the mystery."

"Mystery? Nonsense. It is quite simple. It is a mere matter of emphasis."

"Oh, I see," said Larry, "or at least I don't see. But credit me with the earnest and humble desire to understand."

"Well," said his sister, "the one--"

"Which one?"

"Switzer. He is mad to possess her for his very own. He would carry her off against her will. He'd bully her to death."

"Ah, you would like that?"

"Not I. Let him try it on. The other, Romayne, is mad to have her too. He would give her his very soul. But he sticks there waiting till she comes and flings herself into his arms."

"You prefer that, eh?"

"Oh, that makes me tired!" said Nora in a tone of disgust.

"Well, I give it up," said Larry hopelessly. "What do you want?"

"I want both. My man must want me more than he wants Heaven itself, and he must give me all he has but honour. Such a man would be my slave! And such a man--oh, I'd just love to be bullied by him."

For some moments Larry stood looking into the glowing black eyes, then said quietly, "May God send you such a man, little sister, or none at all."

In a few weeks the Alberta Coal Mining and Development Company was an established fact. Mr. Waring-Gaunt approved of it and showed his confidence in the scheme by offering to take a large block of stock and persuade his friends to invest as well. He also agreed that it was important to the success of the scheme both that Mr. Gwynne should be the president of the company and that young Switzer should be its secretary. Mr. Gwynne's earnest request that he should become the treasurer of the company Mr. Waring-Gaunt felt constrained in the meantime to decline. He already had too many irons in the fire. But he was willing to become a director and to aid the scheme in any way possible. Before the end of the month such was the energy displayed by the new secretary of the company in the disposing of the stock it was announced that only a small block of about $25,000 remained unsold. A part of this Mr. Waring- Gaunt urged his brother-in-law to secure.

"Got twenty thousand myself, you know--looks to me like a sound proposition--think you ought to go in--what do you say, eh, what?"

"Very well; get ten or fifteen thousand for me," said his brother- in-law.

Within two days Mr. Waring-Gaunt found that the stock had all been disposed of. "Energetic chap, that young Switzer,--got all the stock placed--none left, so he told me."

"Did you tell him the stock was for me?" enquired Romayne.

"Of course, why not?"

"Probably that accounts for it. He would not be especially anxious to have me in."

"What do you say? Nothing in that, I fancy. But I must see about that, what?"

"Oh, let it go," said Romayne.

"Gwynne was after me again to take the treasurership," said Waring- Gaunt, "but I am busy with so many things--treasurership very hampering--demands close attention--that sort of thing, eh, what?"

"Personally I wish you would take it," said Romayne. "You would be able to protect your own money and the investments of your friends. Besides, I understand the manager is to be a German, which, with a German secretary, is too much German for my idea."

"Oh, you don't like Switzer, eh? Natural, I suppose. Don't like him myself; bounder sort of chap--but avoid prejudice, my boy, eh, what? German--that sort of thing--don't do in this country, eh? English, Scotch, Irish, French, Galician, Swede, German--all sound Canadians--melting pot idea, eh, what?"

"I am getting that idea, too," said his brother-in-law. "Sybil has been rubbing it into me. I believe it is right enough. But apart altogether from that, frankly I do not like that chap; I don't trust him. I fancy I know a gentleman when I see him."

"All right, all right, my boy, gentleman idea quite right too--but new country, new standards--'Old Family' idea played out, don't you know. Burke's Peerage not known here--every mug on its own bottom-- rather touchy Canadians are about that sort of thing--democracy stuff and all that you know. Not too bad either, eh, what? for a chap who has got the stuff in him--architect of his fortune-- founder of his own family and that sort of thing, don't you know. Not too bad, eh, what?"

"I quite agree," cried Jack, "at least with most of it. But all the same I hope you will take the treasurership. Not only will you protect your own and your friends' investments, but you will protect the interests of the Gwynnes. The father apparently is no business man, the son is to be away; anything might happen. I would hate to see them lose out. You understand?"

His brother-in-law turned his eyes upon him, gazed at him steadily for a few moments, then taking his hand, shook it warmly, exclaiming, "Perfectly, old chap, perfectly--good sort, Gwynne-- good family. Girl of the finest--hope you put it off, old boy. Madame has put me on, you know, eh, what? Jolly good thing."

"Now what the deuce do you mean?" said Romayne angrily.

"All right--don't wish to intrude, don't you know. Fine girl though--quite the finest thing I've seen--could go anywhere."

His brother-in-law's face flushed fiery red. "Now look here, Tom," he said angrily, "don't be an ass. Of course I know what you mean but as the boys say here, 'Nothing doing!'"

"What? You mean it? Nothing doing? A fine girl like that--sweet girl--good clean stock--wonderful mother--would make a wife any man would be proud of--the real thing, you know, the real thing--I have known her these eight years--watched her grow up--rare courage-- pure soul. Nothing doing? My God, man, have you eyes?" It was not often that Tom Waring-Gaunt allowed himself the luxury of passion, but this seemed to him to be an occasion in which he might indulge himself. Romayne stood listening to him with his face turned away, looking out of the window. "Don't you hear me, Jack?" said Waring-Gaunt. "Do you mean there's nothing in it, or have you burned out your heart with those fool women of London and Paris?"

Swiftly his brother-in-law turned to him. "No, Tom, but I almost wish to God I had. No, I won't say that; rather do I thank God that I know now what it is to love a woman. I am not going to lie to you any longer, old chap. To love a sweet, pure woman, sweet and pure as the flowers out there, to love her with every bit of my heart, with every fibre of my soul, that is the finest thing that can come to a man. I have treated women lightly in my time, Tom. I have made them love me, taken what they have had to give, and left them without a thought. But if any of them have suffered through me, and if they could know what I am getting now, they would pity me and say I had got enough to pay me out. To think that I should ever hear myself saying that to another man, I who have made love to women and laughed at them and laughed at the poor weak devils who fell in love with women. Do you get me? I am telling you this and yet I feel no shame, no humiliation! Humiliation, great heaven! I am proud to say that I love this girl. From the minute I saw her up there in the woods I have loved her. I have cursed myself for loving her. I have called myself fool, idiot, but I cannot help it. I love her. It is hell to me or heaven, which you like. It's both." He was actually trembling, his voice hoarse and shaking.

Amazement, then pity, finally delight, succeeded each other in rapid succession across the face of his brother-in-law as he listened. "My dear chap, my dear chap," he said when Romayne had finished. "Awfully glad, you know--delighted. But why the howl? The girl is there--go in and get her, by Jove. Why not, eh, what?"

"It's no use, I tell you," said Romayne. "That damned German has got her. I have seen them together too often. I have seen in her eyes the look that women get when they are ready to give themselves body and soul to a man. She loves that man. She loves him, I tell you. She has known him for years. I have come too late to have a chance. Too late, my God, too late!" He pulled himself up with an effort, then with a laugh said, "Do you recognise me, Tom? I confess I do not recognise myself. Well, that's out. Let it go. That's the last you will get from me. But, Tom, this is more than I can stand. I must quit this country, and I want you to make it easy for me to go. We'll get up some yarn for Sibyl. You'll help me out, old man? God knows I need help in this."

"Rot, beastly rot. Give her up to that German heel-clicking bounder--rather not. Buck up, old man--give the girl a chance anyway--play the game out, eh, what? Oh, by the way, I have made up my mind to take that treasurership--beastly nuisance, eh? Goin'? Where?"

"Off with the dogs for a run somewhere."

"No, take the car--too beastly hot for riding, don't you know. Take my car. Or, I say, let's go up to the mine. Must get to know more about the beastly old thing, eh, what? We'll take the guns and Sweeper--we'll be sure to see some birds and get the evening shoot coming back. But, last word, my boy, give the girl a chance to say no. Think of it, a German, good Lord! You go and get the car ready. We'll get Sybil to drive while we shoot."

Tom Waring-Gaunt found his great, warm, simple heart overflowing with delight at the tremendous news that had come to him. It was more than his nature could bear that he should keep this from his wife. He found her immersed in her domestic duties and adamant against his persuasion to drive them to the mine.

"A shoot," she cried, "I'd love to. But, Tom, you forget I am a rancher's wife, and you know, or at least you don't know, what that means. Run along and play with Jack. Some one must work. No, don't tempt me. I have my programme all laid out. I especially prayed this morning for grace to resist the lure of the outside this day. 'Get thee behind me--' What? I am listening, but I shouldn't be. What do you say? Tom, it cannot be!" She sat down weakly in a convenient chair and listened to her husband while he retailed her brother's great secret.

"And so, my dear, we are going to begin a big campaign--begin to- day--take the girls off with us for a shoot--what do you say, eh?"

"Why, certainly, Tom. Give me half an hour to get Martha fairly on the rails, and I am with you. We'll take those dear girls along. Oh, it is perfectly splendid. Now let me go; that will do, you foolish boy. Oh, yes, how lovely. Trust me to back you up. What? Don't spoil things. Well, I like that. Didn't I land you? That was 'some job,' as dear Nora would say. You listen to me, Tom. You had better keep in the background. Finesse is not your forte. Better leave these things to me. Hurry up now. Oh, I am so excited."

Few women can resist an appeal for help from a husband. The acknowledgment of the need of help on the part of the dominating partner is in itself the most subtle flattery and almost always irresistible. No woman can resist the opportunity to join in that most fascinating of all sport--man-hunting. And when the man runs clear into the open wildly seeking not escape from but an opening into the net, this only adds a hazard and a consequent zest to the sport. Her husband's disclosures had aroused in Sybil Waring-Gaunt not so much her sporting instincts, the affair went deeper far than that with her. Beyond anything else in life she desired at that time to bring together the two beings whom, next to her husband, she loved best in the world. From the day that her brother had arrived in the country she had desired this, and more or less aggressively had tried to assist Providence in the ordering of events. But in Kathleen, with all her affection and all her sweet simplicity, there was a certain shy reserve that prevented confidences in the matter of her heart affairs.

"How far has the German got with her? That is what I would like to know," said Mrs. Waring-Gaunt to herself as she hastily prepared for the motor ride. "There's no doubt about him. Every one can see how he stands, and he has such a masterful way with him that it makes one think that everything is settled. If it is there is no chance for Jack, for she is not the changing kind." Meantime she would hope for the best and play the game as best she could.

"Would you mind running into the Gwynnes' as we pass, Tom?" said his wife as they settled themselves in the car. "I have a message for Nora."

"Righto!" said her husband, throwing his wife a look which she refused utterly to notice. "But remember you must not be long. We cannot lose the evening shoot, eh, what?"

"Oh, just a moment will do," said his wife.

At the door Nora greeted them. "Oh, you lucky people--guns and a dog, and a day like this," she cried.

"Come along--lots of room--take my gun," said Mr. Waring-Gaunt.

"Don't tempt me, or I shall come."

"Tell us what is your weakness, Miss Nora," said Jack. "How can we get you to come?"

"My weakness?" cried the girl eagerly, "you all are, and especially your dear Sweeper dog there." She put her arms around the neck of the beautiful setter, who was frantically struggling to get out to her.

"Sweeper, lucky dog, eh, Jack, what?" said Mr. Waring-Gaunt, with a warm smile of admiration at the wholesome, sun-browned face. "Come along, Miss Nora--back in a short time, eh, what?"

"Short time?" said Nora. "Not if I go. Not till we can't see the birds."

"Can't you come, Nora?" said Mrs. Waring-Gaunt, "I want to talk to you, and we'll drive to-day and let the men shoot. Where is Kathleen? Is she busy?"

"Busy? We are all positively overwhelmed with work. But, oh, do go away, or I shall certainly run from it all."

"I am going in to get your mother to send you both out. Have you had a gun this fall? I don't believe you have," said Mrs. Waring- Gaunt.

"Not once. Yes, once. I had a chance at a hawk that was paying too much attention to our chickens. No, don't go in, Mrs. Waring- Gaunt, I beg of you. Well, go, then; I have fallen shamelessly. If you can get Kathleen, I am on too."

In a few moments Mrs. Waring-Gaunt returned with Kathleen and her mother. "Your mother says, Nora, that she does not need you a bit, and she insists on your coming, both of you. So be quick."

"Oh, Mother," cried the girl in great excitement. "You cannot possibly get along without us. There's the tea for all those men."

"Nonsense, Nora, run along. I can do quite well without you. Larry is coming in early and he will help. Run along, both of you."

"But there isn't room for us all," said Kathleen.

"Room? Heaps," said Mr. Waring-Gaunt. "Climb in here beside me, Miss Nora."

"Oh, it will be great," said Nora. "Can you really get along, Mother?"

"Nonsense," said the mother. "You think far too much of yourself. Get your hat."

"Hat; who wants a hat?" cried the girl, getting in beside Mr. Waring-Gaunt. "Oh, this is more than I had ever dreamed, and I feel so wicked!"

"All the better, eh, what?"

"Here, Kathleen," said Mrs. Waring-Gaunt, "here between us."

"I am so afraid I shall crowd you," said the girl, her face showing a slight flush.

"Not a bit, my dear; the seat is quite roomy. There, are you comfortable? All right, Tom. Good-bye, Mrs. Gwynne. So good of you to let the girls come."

In high spirits they set off, waving their farewell to the mother who stood watching till they had swung out of the lane and on to the main trail.