Narrowing his vision, he scrutinized me more carefully than before, for
now he seemed to be reading my character--if not my soul. Then,
smiling, he blurted out:

"Come, be my guest for a couple of weeks. Will you?"

I laughed.

He frowned. But on realizing that my mirth was caused only by
surprise, he smiled again and let flow a vivid description of a place
he called Spearhead. It was the home of the northern fur trade. It
was the centre of a great timber region. It was the heart of a vast
fertile belt that was rapidly becoming the greatest of all farming
districts. It was built on the fountain head of gigantic water power.
It virtually stood over the very vault that contained the richest veins
of mineral to be found in the whole Dominion--at least that's what he
said--and he also assured me that the Government had realized it, too,
for was it not going to hew a provincial highway clean through the
forest to Spearhead? Was it not going to build a fleet of steamers to
ply upon the lakes and rivers in that section? And was it not going to
build a line of railroad to the town itself in order to connect it with
the new transcontinental and thus put it in communication with the
great commercial centres of the East and the West? In fact, he also
impressed upon me that Spearhead was a town created for young men who
were not averse to becoming wealthy in whatever line of business they
might choose. It seemed that great riches were already there and had
but to be lifted. Would I go?

But when I explained that although I was single, and quite free, I was