“What do you say, Joe?” asked Jack.
“Why,” said Joe, “I’m ready to go ‘most anywhere or do ‘most anything. I think I like the country at the head of the lake, where the bear tore down the tent, better than I do here.”
“Well, Hugh,” said Jack, “that’s the way I feel. Of course, it is nice here and interesting, and we could spend a lot of time and see a great many things; but it seems to me that the country at the head of St. Mary’s River is bigger and more interesting than this.”
“All right,” said Hugh, “let’s go if you say so, and if we’re going, why not pack up and roll now. We ought to be able to get down nearly to the mouth of Swift Current before dark. Maybe we can even camp in the big flat of the St. Mary’s River. If you boys want to start, round up your horses and I’ll be making up the packs, and we’ll move mighty quick.”
By the time the horses had been brought in and saddled, Hugh had his packs made up, and it took but a few minutes to lash the loads, and soon the train was moving off down the valley.
As they crossed the snowslide, Jack turned aside and looked back toward the great mountain behind them and wondered again at the mighty mass of ice that lay in its lap. It hardly seemed to him possible that he had been up walking on that ice, and on those rocks that now seemed so far away and so difficult of access.
He had but little time, however, to think about this, and, turning his horse, hurried on after the others, who were just entering the timber.
They had gone but a little way, when Hugh stopped his horse, and all the others came to a standstill. He called back to Jack, “Son, have you got a piece of string in your pocket?”
“Yes,” said Jack, fishing it out, “I have, but it’s only about three feet long.”
“Well,” said Hugh, “get off your horse and come up here.”