"Yes, that's the wind that comes down from the mountains and licks up
the snow at ten miles an hour."

"Oh!"

"It was an Alberta man, you know, who invented a rig with runners in
front and wheels behind." The lady was bewildered. "To catch up with the
Chinook, you see. One of my kid's jokes. Not much of a joke I guess, but
he's always ringin' 'em in."

"You have a son, Mr. Sleighter? He's in Alberta now?"

"No, the missis and the kids, three of them, are in Winnipeg. She got
tired of it out there; she was always wantin' the city, so I gave in."

"I hear it's a beautiful country out there."

"Now you're talkin', ma'am." She had touched Mr. Sleighter's favourite
theme. Indeed, the absorbing passion of his life, next to the picking
up of good salvage bargains, was his home in the Foothill country of the
West.

While he was engaged in an enthusiastic description of the glories of
that wonderland the children came in and were presented. Mr. Gwynne
handed his visitor his receipt and stood suggestively awaiting his
departure. But Mr. Sleighter was fairly started on his subject and was
not to be denied. The little girls drew shyly near him with eyes
aglow while Mr. Sleighter's words roiled forth like a mountain flood.
Eloquently he described the beauty of the rolling lands, the splendour
of the mountains, the richness of the soil, the health-giving qualities