"You are perhaps aware that I have very little knowledge of farming beyond what I have picked up during the short time I have been with Ranger, and therefore I shall be obliged to have someone to help me."
"All right, Fellows. So far as I can see at present, I may as well be with you as any other man; more especially as Jess and I will still be near each other."
CHAPTER XXVIII.
CHARLES BARTON.
"... While thou art one with me,
I seem no longer like a lonely man."—TENNYSON.
Although the autumn was rapidly advancing, and the foliage was fast fleeing from the trees, which lifted sparsely-leaved branches to the Chinook winds which came blowing in fresh from the Pacific, the days were not yet cold.
The Canadians consider autumn the finest season of the year, for then the air is bracing and free from moisture, often for weeks at a time. But the nights are cold,—even in summer they are cool,—so that fires are an early necessity for comfort.
The day of Ranger's visit to M'Lean Station had been singularly fine and sunny, but as the sun went down the wind began to rise, and the air felt cold and chill.
The hardy, stalwart frame of Ranger, however, was not only weather-beaten, but seemed as if it was weather-proof, so that disregarding Mrs. Ranger's cosy-looking fireside, which might have been considered invitingly tempting to a tired man when the work of the day was over, as soon as the usual evening meal was finished he rose, and, buttoning his jacket, announced his intention of going over to Bartons' cabin to have a talk with Charles.
A ten minutes' walk along a devious track brought him near to a little stream, fed from one of the neighbouring hills, beside which the shanty had been pitched.