OUR NEW RANCH. 91 



That winter was on the whole mild. Snow fell in 

 quantity on Christmas Eve, and remained on the 

 ground until just after the middle of March, when 

 the permanent thaw set in. The snow all disappeared 

 off the ranch in less than a week, though it was, of 

 course, considerably longer in melting off the moun- 

 tains. It is this gradual melting of the snow from 

 the lake-level upwards that ensures natural irrigation 

 to the orchards all through the spring and early 

 summer. The water trickles down underneath the 

 surface, and the roots of the fruit trees suck it up as 

 it "seeps" past them. For this reason a sloping 

 orchard is to be preferred to one planted on the fiat — 

 at all events, in non-irrigated districts such as the 

 Kootenays. 



Soon after the snow begins to melt in earnest, 

 every watercourse that seams the mountain-sides 

 swells rapidly into a roaring torrent. At such times 

 even a meek and innocent rill is apt to grow ob- 

 streperous and refractory. Of this a striking example 

 came under my immediate notice in a somewhat un- 

 pleasant way in the spring after we settled in our 

 new ranch. 



One Sunday morning the section foreman — that is 

 to say, the foreman platelayer for the section of rail- 

 way line running through our ranch — came into 

 the yard to tell me that the stream which tumbles 

 down the mountain at the back of the house and sup- 

 plies us with water for domestic purposes, was break- 

 ing bounds, and invading a choice piece of garden 

 ground on the lower side of the railway track. The 

 culvert which should conduct it under the roadway 

 that leads into our yard was too small to take the 



