leggings we have become accustomed
to now. He greeted us very shortly: "For Mr. Humphrey's ranch?" and when
we said "Yes," led the way outside to where an odd kind of waggonette,
drawn by two horses, was waiting. We gather it is called a "democrat,"
for we heard the stationmaster say, "Put 'em in the democrat" as sundry
square wooden boxes were gathered up from a storehouse. Our luggage was
a mere trifle compared with the miscellaneous mass of sacks and boxes
and bundles that were piled in behind. We were six hours late, as we
were due at two this morning and it is now eight. I remark on it to our
silent young driver when he gathers up the reins. He laughs shortly.
"You never can tell, sometimes it's as much as a day----"

[Illustration: LONE PINE RANCH.]

The trail out on to the boundless prairie, after getting clear of the
town, is merely marked by two deep ruts. When we meet another "rig," as
conveyances of any sort are called here, the driver usually goes off on
to the grass to make way for us, as we have a heavy load, a courtesy our
young driver acknowledges by raising his whip.

It is very, very hot, and as we jog along in silence it is difficult not
to fall asleep. It seems a long, long time before the driver points with
his whip to a distant herd of cattle.

"They belong to the Lone Pine Ranch," he volunteers. That's the ranch we
are going to stay at. Then a group of log buildings, with a few trees
near, rises out of the plain, and we draw nearer and nearer steadily and
realise this is our destination.

The principal house is built entirely of logs and has a sort of verandah
around. Mr. Humphrey himself is waiting outside, and at a shout from him
a fair-haired, rosy-cheeked woman in a pretty pink cotton dress and
sunbonnet joins him, followed by a tiny toddling child.

Their welcome is as warm as all the others we have received in Canada.
To our surprise the young driver turns out to be the Humphreys' son!

His father and mother laugh heartily as he disappears round the corner
of the house to unyoke the horses.

"Edmund is the best man at holding his tongue I ever came across," says
Mr. Humphrey; "seems to have been born that way; he doesn't get it from
either of us!"

Mrs. Humphrey is doing all the work of the house herself, for her
husband, five children, and three hired men, with the help of an Indian
woman for the rough scrubbing.

"You can't get servants here," she says; "and if you brought them