“Short hobbles,” suggested Grenfell. “There’s grass enough to last awhile, and it’s likely that we’ll strike this way back. It’s a long way to the settlements, and there’ll be quite a load of provisions and things to pack.”
They had made a cache of most of their provisions the previous night, after searching in vain for a route by which they could lead the horse over the range in front of them; but Weston shook his head.
“No,” he said, “we may not come back this way after all, and a horse is pretty sure to get a hobble of any kind foul round something in the bush. I can’t have the beast held up to starve.”
“Well,” said Grenfell, “I guess you understand what leaving it loose means?”
Weston did. He recognized that if they ever regained that valley they would have to push on for the settlements through a most difficult country, under a heavy load, and even then leave behind them many things which might have ministered to their comfort. Still, he was resolute.
“The beast could find its food somehow if we left it loose, and it’s quite probable that it would work down along the back trail to the settlements when the grass round here gets scarce,” he said. “In any case we’ll give it a chance for its life.”
Grenfell made a sign of acquiescence.
“Have it your way. If we ever come back to this cache again, and I’m played out, as I probably will be, you’ll have the pleasure of packing down everything we want.”
Weston did not answer, but there was a little satisfied smile in his eyes as he watched the horse wander away unhampered into the rain. After this they sat down to a very simple meal. Then they strapped their packs on their shoulders—a thick blanket each, a small bag of flour, some salt pork and green tea, and, while Grenfell carried the light ax, Weston slung a frying-pan, a kettle and a pannikin about him, as well as a rifle, for there are black-tail deer in that country, and they could not be sure that their provisions would last the journey through. The prospector soon discovers how much a man can do without, and it is a good deal more than men bred in the cities would suppose. The oddments rattled and banged about Weston’s shoulders as he went up the steep slope through the thick timber; and by the time they had cleared the latter, Grenfell was visibly distressed, and both of them realized that their difficulties had commenced.
Any one unaccustomed to the country would probably have considered the devious march that they already had made arduous enough, but they had, at least for the most part, followed the valleys and crossed only a few low divides, and it was evident now that their way led close up to the eternal snow. There was a rock scarp in front of them, up part of which they went on their hands and knees. When they reached the summit of this, the slightly more level strip along which they floundered was strewn with shattered rock and gravel that had come down from the heights above with the thaw in the spring; and it was with difficulty that they made a mile an hour. The gold trail is usually long and arduous; but the prospector is content to have it so, for once it is made easier the poor man’s day has gone. Then the men of the cities set up their hydraulic monitors, or drive their adits, and the free-lance who disdains to work for them rolls up his old blankets and pushes out once again into the waste.