il looked with Lord
Nelson's blind eye when it came to seeing any quick fortune in fruit
farming. But knowing that the Brantlock Ranch was a sheer give-away at
the price they had paid for it and not being desirous of parting from
Jim or of smothering any attempt on the part of the latter to take up
some definite work, he had compromised: Jim was to remain on the ranch
all the time, while Phil would keep on working at his trade with Sol
Hanson, thereby giving Sol time to look about for a substitute and
also ensuring a good food supply until they should realise on their
next season's general produce, which Jim had decided to plant and
cultivate between his fruit trees. This revolutionary plan of
combining truck gardening and ranching had been a pet scheme of Jim's
for a number of years. He contended, and rightly too, that despite
the fact that a fruit rancher was a fruit rancher, there was no
particular reason why a rancher should not be a farmer as well; rather
than lay out his young trees and sit still for the next five or six
years and become poor or bankrupt in the process of waiting till his
trees should grow to fruition--as so many seemed to be doing--when by
pocketing his pride and condescending to a little hard work in market
gardening, he could at least make ends meet until the time came for
the greater harvest of the big fruits.

Jim Langford was not destined to demonstrate this theory personally,
although he lived to be confirmed in his wisdom and to see the plan
work out to splendid success.

The Brantlock Ranch was only some two miles from town, and Phil, for
company's sake, had agreed to spend his spare time there, riding in
and out to work morning and evening.

When all was ready, Jim handled the reins of his team, blew a kiss in
the location of the chaste and goodly Mrs. Clunie's bedroom window,
and they started off.

Phil glanced up at the clouded sky, through which the grey of dawn was
endeavouring to peep. Away beyond the mist, the dark outline of the
cold, enveloping hills barely showed itself.

"It's a great day to start out ranching, Jim," he commented with a
shiver, as he buttoned up his coat and turned up his collar.

Jim looked upward. A blob of very moist snow--the forerunner of
many--splashed into his eye and blurred his vision.

"It sure is!" he agreed, squeezing it out.

"It is a good job we have Morrison's tarpaulin over our stuff."

"Ugh-huh!"

Five minutes' silence ensued, in w