The journey to camp seemed much shorter than the climb, and when Jack strode up to the fire warm and muddy and wet up to the knees, the afternoon had not half gone.
Hugh and Joe had built a large platform of poles supported on four crotched sticks. Under this they had kindled a slow smoky fire, and on the poles rested flakes of elk meat, which were being dried by the sun above and the fire and smoke beneath. A part of the meat had evidently been already partially dried and was hanging in bundles from the branches of one of the trees.
“Well, son,” remarked Hugh, “you’ve got back, have you? Quite a climb, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” said Jack, “it was quite a climb, but I think it was worth it. That’s a mighty pretty view from the top of that ridge, and I’m glad I saw it. You’re getting on pretty well with your meat, I see.”
“Yes,” said Hugh, “we’ve given it all a little touch of the sun and smoke, and I don’t believe the flies will get at it right away.”
“What are you going to do?” asked Jack. “Wait here and finish with the meat, or go on down and camp at that lake we passed?”
“Why,” said Hugh, “I believe we might as well get up the horses and ride down to the lake. It won’t take us more than a couple of hours, and we can stop there to-morrow and put this meat out again, go up that short fork that lies in the middle, and then the next day poke over and see if we can get up the other fork that lies beyond the lake.”
“All right,” said Jack. “Shall I go out and bring in the horses?”
“Say you do,” said Hugh. “Joe and me’ll pull down the tent and make up the packs, and it’ll take us a mighty short time to get started.”
The snow had disappeared from the valley. The horses were in sight and Jack got around them and brought them in. Joe helped him catch and saddle them, and by the time this was done, the tent was down and Hugh’s packs were mostly made up. The work of packing was speedily finished, and a little later the three were following back their trail of a few days before.