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I've just come from Paris. I'm Mr. Zept's son. You know him?" The two boys straightened. Mr. Zept was one of the richest and most active citizens of Calgary. He was even ranked as a millionaire, having made his money with the other big horse ranchmen in that part of the world. He was a close friend of Norman's father and had been especially active in organizing the Stampede.
"You don't know it," broke in the young Austrian instantly, "but if we're going to live in the same town I might as well tell you that a lot of people call me 'Count Zept. Of course I'm not a 'Count' and I don't know why they gave me the title, unless it's because I've never been good for much.
The Revillon Freres being the well-known rival of the Hudson's Bay Company, young Zept in his disappointment had also gone to the Hudson's Bay store, but there he had been equally unsuccessful, although at both places he saw plenty of baled skins. Colonel Howell laughed. "My dear boy," he explained, "furs do not go looking for buyers in this part of the world.
Then you go down to-morrow morning and get a four-point Hudson's Bay blanket, fourteen feet long, pay your twelve dollars for it, get a strap to hang it on your back, and I reckon you'll have about all you need." A little later, when Paul's father and Colonel Howell visited the room and Paul good-naturedly explained what his friends had done, Mr. Zept laughed.
Zept, with a sigh, "and I've been trying to make his home take the place of the saloons, but," and he shook his head, "you see where he is now." "All right," exclaimed Colonel Howell. "That doesn't need to discourage you. I think we'll have to send him where there isn't any Paris and where there aren't any cafes." "What do you mean?" broke in the disturbed father.
They're doing the work now and don't make suggestions or try to help them. They'll resent it and think less of you for it." While this work was going on, young Zept appeared from time to time and seemed to be interested but he as continually absented himself. Loading went forward slowly.
Leaving the taciturn Crees in the baggage car, well supplied with sandwiches, fruit, and a half dozen bottles of ginger ale, the others once more headed for the Zept home. In two hours the expedition would be off. At three o'clock the fast express pulled out of the big depot at Calgary on its way to Edmonton, then the northern limit of railroad transportation on the American Continent.
The absurdity of this must have appealed to young Zept. Perhaps the presence of his two companions somewhat shamed him. "Don't have a row," broke in Roy. "The colonel's sure to hear of it." The Count turned again to the excited Frenchman and began another torrent of apparent explanation, but it was in a different tone. He was now suave and polite.
A few moments later, in the lobby of the hotel, he was joined by young Count Zept, who explained that he had been dining with a few friends. Colonel Howell motioned him to a seat and gave no sign of noticing the boy's flushed face and somewhat thick speech. He had spoken hardly a dozen words to the excited young man, when the latter seemed to throw off his condition as if it had been a cloak.
"Things are changing very fast in this region," explained Mr. Zept, motioning to the irregular hill-dotted country, in which patches of vegetation alternated with semi-arid wastes. "See how irrigation is bringing the green into this land. Ten years ago, for fifty miles north of Calgary, we called this The Plains. It's all changing. It's all going to be farms, before long.
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