“Don’t believe all the groans of a pack-horse in camp,” said Uncle Dick. “Try the girth a half-mile out on trail. But now hurry up with the next ones. That’s right, John, you’re throwing the cross loop all right. That’s right—just remember to fix the hitch so it draws every way—and don’t forget to pull it tight.”
The boys got on very well with their packing until they came to the claybank horse which had given Moise so much trouble. This one proved still rather wild, snorting and jumping about when they tried to put a blanket and saddle on him.
“What are we going to do with him, Uncle Dick?” asked Rob. “The three of us can hardly hold him.”
“Oh, that’s easy. Tie him to a tree and put this blinder over his eyes.” He kicked toward Rob a heavy piece of leather semicircular in form and with a thong tied at the corners. Rob picked it up, and after studying it for a moment dropped the blinder over the claybank’s face. To his surprise the horse now stood quite still.
“Well, what do you know about that? He thinks he’s blind!” said Rob.
“Never mind what he thinks. Just go ahead and pack him.”
Very much to their surprise, the boys found that as long as the claybank had the blinder over his eyes he stood quite patient and docile, not making any protest against the saddle or packs, although when they removed the blinder he snorted and kicked about quite a bit, testing thoroughly the hitch-rope by which he had been made fast. When the time came to start, however, he had once more changed his mind, and took his place meekly at the end of the train.
Meantime Moise had started up all the saddle-ponies, and the boys, slinging their rifles and other gear to the saddles, all were soon mounted and on the trail even before the sun was fifteen minutes high.
“Well, that’s what I call work,” said John. “I don’t know but I’d rather travel in a boat than go this way. You don’t have to saddle up a boat every morning and hustle around to keep from getting tramped on.”