Uncle Dick drew apart from the camp at the time and went out to the edge of the bank, looking down at the water far below.
“You can bet that’s a steep climb,” commented John—“two hundred feet, I should think. And I don’t see how we’ll get the horses down there in the morning.”
“At least one hundred and fifty feet,” assented his uncle. “But I reckon we can get across it somehow, if the engineers can get a railroad and trains of cars over it—and that’s what they’re going to do next year. But, as I have told you, never worry until the time comes when you’re on the trail. The troubles’ll come along fast enough, perhaps, without our hurrying them up any. Take things easy—that’s what gets engineers and horses and railroads across the Rockies.”
“How long before we get to the Rockies, Uncle Dick?” inquired John, pointing to the west, where the clouds had now hidden the distant range from view.
“All in due time, all in due time, my son,” replied the engineer, smiling down at him. “A good deal depends on how quickly we can make and break camp, and how many miles we can get done each day through muskeg and bush and over all sorts of trails and fords. For instance, if we lost half our horses in Wolf Creek here to-morrow, we might have to make quite a wait. But don’t worry—just turn in before the mosquitoes get you.”
III
HITTING THE TRAIL
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