y
is to remain yours, with this proviso. An inquiry has been arranged
for, into all claims for property lost during the last ten years in
the district. And all approved claims will have to be settled out of
the estate. Five years is the time allowed for all such claims to be
put forward. After that everything reverts to you."

Diane turned to her lover the moment the officer had finished
speaking.

"And, Jack, when that time comes we'll sell it all and give the money
to charity, and just live on in our own little home."

"Done!" exclaimed Tresler. And seizing her in his arms he picked her
up and gave her a resounding kiss. The action caused the sheriff to
cough loudly, while Joe flung his hat fiercely to the ground, and in a
voice of wildest excitement, shouted--

"Gee, but I want to holler!"

CHAPTER XXIV

ARIZONA

When winter comes in Canada it shuts down with no uncertainty. The
snow settles and remains. The sun shines, but without warmth. The
still air bites through any clothing but furs, moccasins, or
felt-lined overshoes. The farmers hug the shelter of their houses, and
only that work which is known as "doing the chores" receives attention
when once winter sets its seal upon the land. Little traffic passes
over the drifted trails now; a horseman upon a social visit bent, a
bobsleigh loaded with cord-wood for the wood-stoves at home, a cutter,
drawn by a rattling team of young bronchos, as rancher and wife seek
the alluring stores of some distant city to make their household
purchases, even an occasional "jumper," one of those low-built,
red-painted, one-horsed sleighs, which resemble nothing so much as a
packing-case with a pair of shafts attached. But these are all; for
work has practically ceased in the agricultural regions, and a period
of hibernation has begun, when, like the dormouse, rancher and farmer
alike pass their slack time in repose from the arduous labors of the
open season.

Even the most brilliant sunlight cannot cheer the mournful outlook to
any great extent. Out on the Edmonton trail, hundreds of miles to the
north of Forks, at the crossroads where the Battule trail branches to
the east, the cheerless prospect is intensified by the skeleton arms
of a snow-crowned bluff. The shelter of trees is no longer a shelter
against the wind, which now comes shrieking through the leafless
branches and drives out any benighted creature foolish enough to seek
its protection against the wint