“Hurrah!” said John, pulling off his cap and waving it about his head as he rode up. “That was fine, wasn’t it? I was a good deal scared about it, but we got through all right.”
“And I call it mighty well done for you young men,” said Uncle Dick, approvingly. “We’ve got every pack with us, and now we’ll see if any of them need tightening up. We’ll not have many crossings worse than this, I’m thinking. For two or three days we’ll be among these steep valleys, where the rivers have cut regular troughs, mostly north and south. But I don’t think there will be any worse muskeg than we’ve had already.”
“Well,” said Rob, “this wasn’t nearly as bad as the Pembina crossing back yonder.”
“No, that was three hundred feet down and a hundred yards of water. Lucky the water was low, or we’d be there yet. And, you may believe me, the engineers will have a considerable bridge to build before they get over that river and a lot of these others. If we were two months later we’d have to swim a lot of these streams, and that’s something I don’t want with a pack-train.”
“Well,” said John, “when are we going to eat lunch?”
They all laughed at John, who was always anxious about times and places for eating.
“We don’t eat lunch, young man, until we get our breakfast settled, anyhow,” said Uncle Dick.
“And where is the next bad crossing?” inquired Jesse.