Part 5 (1/2)
It took a great deal of shouting and whipping to get the poor brutes to take to this treacherous mora.s.s, but one after the other they were driven in, until at length the whole dozen of the pack-train were distributed, half-submerged, over the hundred yards of the mucky trail. Uncle d.i.c.k, not stopping to think of his clothes, followed Moise in; and Rob, pluckily as either of the others, also took to the mud. Thigh-deep, plunging along as best they could, in the churned up ma.s.s, they worked along the animals, exhorting or encouraging them the best they could. It was piteously hard for all concerned, and for a long time it seemed doubtful if they would get the whole train across.
Sometimes a horse, exhausted by its struggles, would lie over on its side, and the three of them would have to tug at him to get him started again.
The last horse in the train was the unhappy claybank. Within a few yards of the farther side this horse bagged down, helpless, and fell over on its side, its pack down in the mud, and after plunging viciously for a time lay flat, with its head out, so that Rob had to cut some brush to put under it.
”Broken leg, I'm afraid,” said Uncle d.i.c.k. ”It's that rotten corduroy down in the mud there. What shall we do, Moise, cut off the packs and--but I hate to shoot a horse.”
”S'pose you'll wait some minute,” said Moise, after a time, coming up plastered with mud from head to foot. ”Those horse, she'll want for rest a little while.”
”Feel down along his hind leg if you can, Moise,” said Uncle d.i.c.k; ”that's the one that seems helpless.”
Moise obediently kneeled in the mud and reached his arm along down the cayuse's legs.
”Those legs, she always there,” said he, arising. ”Maybe those horse, she'll just fool us.” Then he began to exhort the helpless animal.
”_Advance donc, sacre cochon diable cheval! En avant la--whoop!_”
Moise continued his shouts, and, to the surprise of all, the disabled horse began to flounder once more; and as they all lifted at his pack and pushed him forward he gave a series of plunges and finally reached firm ground.
”So,” said Moise, calmly, ”tha.s.s all right. She was French horse, tha.s.s all--you'll been spoke English on him, and he wasn't understood it.”
Uncle d.i.c.k, grimed as he was from head to foot, could not help laughing at Moise's explanation. Then they all stood and laughed at one another, for they, as well as the saddles and packs, were black with muck.
”I told you, young men,” said Uncle d.i.c.k, ”that we wouldn't make a clean camp to-night. You see now why we have covers on the packs, don't you, and why we roll everything in canvas? Well, anyhow, we're across that one, and I hope there's nothing any worse ahead, although you never can tell.”
The pack-horses seemed to have very short memories of their troubles, for when the line of march was again resumed they went on peacefully enough, even the claybank bringing up the rear as though nothing had happened to him.
It was a stiff climb which confronted them now, on the eastern slope of the big Athabasca divide; but as they rose the terrors of the trail were in some part compensated by the splendid views of the country which now were disclosed as they pa.s.sed into this or that opening along the jack-pine ridge. A wide panorama lay off to the east, the country from which they had come; and at last, when finally they had arrived at the top of the divide, they could see the barren slopes of the Rockies, now apparently so close as to be within a half-day's travel. It was a savage and desolate scene which lay about them, the more gloomy because of the wide areas of dead and half-burned timber which stretched for miles beyond. Weary and travel-stained as the young travelers were, a feeling of depression came upon them, seeing which Uncle d.i.c.k did his best to cheer them up.
”Never mind,” said he; ”that much is behind us at least. We're nearly a thousand feet above the McLeod River here, and it's over thirteen hundred feet down to the Athabasca yonder. There's bad going between here and there, although the valley itself isn't so bad. So I tell you what I think we'll do--we'll make an early camp, and Moise and I will go off to the south of the main trail and see if we can't work over the heads of some of the creeks. It may be rougher country, but it ought not to be quite so soft.”
They were glad enough to follow this counsel, and when at last they came to a little open glade with running water they pulled up and began the unpleasant work of removing the muddy packs.
”I've got mud in my hair and my eyes and my mouth yet,” said Rob, laughing.
”And my stirrups are full, and my rifle scabbard and everything else,”
added Jesse.
”Well, I don't call this any fun,” said John; ”I don't like to be dirty.”
”Nonsense!” said Rob. ”It'll all wash off. And once we are clean and have a cup of tea, we'll be just as good as new.”
VI
THE ATHABASCA AT LAST
”Well, what luck did you have, Uncle d.i.c.k?” inquired Jesse, the next morning, when, a little later than usual, they were once more ready to take the trail.
”Do you mean what luck I had in finding a new trail? Well, none too good, but better, I think, than the one on ahead. Anyway, we'll try it. If we can make the mouth of Hardisty Creek, we can't complain.