"I never hobble or tie or picket Sleepy at night; he sticks close to old Fox. That's my horse, the red one. You'd think Fox was going to die, too, but he isn't. He used to be a cow horse; and a mean one, too, they say; but all at once he reformed and since then he's led a Christian life, same as Sleepy.

"About that thistle. Sleepy is very fond of thistles--he'll stop the whole train to eat one. Usually he carries one hanging in his mouth, so's to eat it when he gets hungry. He's a wise one, that mule. I'll bet you, an hour before camp to-night you'll see him wake up and get frisky; all his tired look is just a bluff. And I'll bet you, too, you can't manage to ride ahead of Sleepy on the trail. He never will take the last place on the trail."

"Why, how's that?" said Jesse. "I should think he'd like to loaf behind, if he's so wise."

"No, Sleepy has got brains. He knows that if he gets a stone in his foot, or if his pack slips, a man is his best friend. So he just goes ahead where folks can see that he's comfortable. You can't ride ahead of him; he'll gallop on and won't let you pa.s.s him; so don't try.

"n.i.g.g.e.r, that other mule, doesn't care--some one'll have to keep him moving. I usually carry a little rubber sling shot in my pocket, and when n.i.g.g.e.r gets too lazy and begins to straggle off I turn around and peck him one with a pebble. Then you ought to see him get into his place and promise to be good!

"I've got quite a pack train, at home on the Gallatin, but your uncle said this was all I was to bring. Can we take all your stuff?"

Uncle d.i.c.k smiled at that and showed him the four rolls, neat and compact. "The robes make most of the bulk," said he.

"Yes. Well, I hope they can keep warm in July," said Billy.

"But we like 'em," said Jesse. "It's more like the old times."

"Yes. Well, I hope you've got some mosquito bar. We've still got a few old-time mosquitoes in the valley; but in a week or two now they'll all be gone."

"Trust these boys to have what they need, and no more," said Uncle d.i.c.k.

"Now fall to and get on the loads while I take back my borrowed skiff."

Billy looked at the boys dubiously. "Well, I'll make it the 'lone packer' hitch," said he.

"Oh, they'll help you," said Uncle d.i.c.k. "They can throw almost any diamond, from the 'government' hitch down to the 'squaw' hitch. You see, we've lived up North a good deal, and learned to pack anything--man, dog, or mule."

"So? Well, all right." He turned to Rob. "Better take off side," he said; "the mules are more used to me for near side. I never blindfold them."

They began with Sleepy, and soon had two packs in the sling ropes, a third on top, with all ready to lash. Rob asked no questions, but went on, taking slack and cinching at the word. Billy laughed.

"Tried you on the old U. S. hitch," said he. "None better. Set?"

"All set!"

"Cinch!" Rob put his foot against Sleepy's far side and drew hard. In a jiffy the ropes flew into the tight diamond and Billy tied off. "She's a good one!" intoned Rob. Billy laughed again.

"I guess you've been there before," said he.

"How about you boys--can you all ride? My saddle stock's all quiet, far as I know, but----"

"I think we can get by," said Rob. "We're not fancy, but we can ride all day."

"Well, you try out the lengths of the stirrup leathers for yourselves, and I'll lace them for you. First let's get your loose stuff in the panniers on n.i.g.g.e.r--I brought along one pair of kyacks, for it's easier to carry the cooking stuff and the loose grub that way than it is to make up packs in the mantas every day."

John, who was cook for that week, now began to open and rearrange his kitchen pack; and Rob was standing off side, ready to handle the lash rope, when all at once they heard a snort and the trampling of hoofs.

They turned, to see Jesse just manage to get his seat on one of the horses, which plunged away, his head down, bucking like a good fellow.

For a moment or so Jesse hung on, but before anyone could mount and help him he was flung full length, and lay, his arms out, motionless. It all happened in a flash.

They ran to him. At once Rob dragged him up, sitting, in front of him, and dragged his shoulders back, pressing his own knee up and down the boy's spine. He saw that no bones were broken, and was using some revival methods he had learned on the football field.

"Ouch! Leggo!" said Jesse, after a little. "What's the matter?"

Rob let him up. He staggered around in a circle two or three times, dazed. "Gee!" said he, laughing at last. "Where'd I drop from?" Then they all laughed, very gladly, seeing he had only been stunned by the fall.

"All right, son?" asked Billy, coming to him anxiously. "I'm sorry! I didn't know----"

"My fault, sir," said Jesse, stoutly. "I admit it. I ought to have known more than to mount any Western horse from the right side and not the left. My fault. But, you see, I had the laces loose on the stirrup, so I just thought I'd climb up on the other side and try the length there."

"You're right--that's not safe," said Billy. "I never knew that cayuse to act bad before. Are you afraid of him now?"

"Naw!" said Jesse, scoffing. "Bring him over--only fasten that leg leather. I'll ride him."

"Better let me top him off first."

"No, sir! He's in my string and I'll ride him alone!"

Billy allowed him to try, since he saw that the horse was now over his fright, but he mounted his own horse first and rode alongside, after he had the stirrup fixed. To the surprise of all, the horse now was gentle as a lamb, and Jesse kicked him in the side to make him go.

"Horse is a funny thing," said Billy. "He ain't got any real brains, like a mule. He gets scared at anything he ain't used to, and he can't reason any. Now look at Sleepy!"

That animal did not even turn his head, but stood under his pack with eyes closed, taking no interest in their little matters.

[Ill.u.s.tration: BEFORE ANYONE COULD HELP HIM HE WAS FLUNG FULL LENGTH, AND LAY MOTIONLESS]

They had all the saddles ready and the last rope cinched by the time Uncle d.i.c.k returned. He rebuked Jesse for a "tenderfoot play" when they told him what had happened, much annoyed. "I'm responsible for you," said he, "and while I'm willing you each should take all fair chances like a man, I'll not have any needless risks. Learn to do things right, in the field, and then do them that way always. You know better than to mount a horse on the off side. That's an Indian trick, but you're not an Indian and this isn't an Indian horse."

Jesse was much crestfallen for being thrown and then scolded for it.

"Is he hurt any?" asked Uncle d.i.c.k of Rob, aside.

Rob shook his head. "I don't think so. Just knocked the wind out of him.

He was lying with his eyes wide open. He's all right."

"On our way!" exclaimed Uncle d.i.c.k. They all swung into saddle now, Billy leading, old Sleepy next to Fox, the place he always claimed; then Uncle d.i.c.k, Jesse, John, and Rob, n.i.g.g.e.r coming last, poking along behind, his ears lopping. In a few moments they all were shaken into place in the train, and all went on as usual, the gait being a walk, only once in a while an easy trot.

"We set out and proceeded on under a gentle breeze," quoted John.

"Reader will suppose one hundred years to have elapsed," began Jesse, trying to be funny.

"Jess," said his uncle at that, "rather you'd not poke fun at the _Journal_, or at our trip. I want you to take it seriously and to feel it's worth while."

"I'm sorry, sir," said Jesse, presently, who was rather feeling disgraced that morning. "I won't, any more. I'm glad we've got horses."

"Now I want you to remember that when Captain Clark and his three men came in here, on foot, they found an old Indian road, marked plain by the lodge poles. They went up Little p.r.i.c.kly Pear Creek, over the ridge and down the Big Pear Creek.

"You see, Clark was hunting Indians. He wanted horses; because he could see, even if the Indian girl had not told him, that before long they must run their river to its head, and then, if they couldn't get horses, their expedition was over for keeps. They all were anxious now.

"Billy, all I have to say about the road is that we'll make long days; and we'll keep off the main motor roads all the way when we get toward Marysville and Helena, over east and south--no towns if we can help it.