“We’ll noon here,” said the General; and while the cook broke the ice on Boisé River to fill his kettles, Crook went back to the mules to see how the sore backs were standing the march. “How d’ye do, Jack Long?” said he. “Your stock is travelling pretty well, I see. They’re loaded with thirty days’ rations, but I trust we’re not going to need it all.”
“Mwell, General, I don’t specially kyeer meself ’bout eatin’ the hull outfit.” Mr. Long showed his respect for the General by never swearing in his presence.
“I see you haven’t forgotten how to pack,” Crook said to him. “Can we make Snake River to-day, Jack?”
“That’ll be forty miles, General. The days are pretty short.”
“What are you feeding to the animals?” Crook inquired.
“Why, General, you know jest ’s well ’s me,” said Jack, grinning.
“I suppose I do if you say so, Jack. Ten pounds first ten days, five pounds next ten, and you’re out of grain for the next ten. Is that the way still?”
“Thet’s the way, General, on these yere thirty-day affairs.”
Through all this small-talk Crook had been inspecting the mules and the horses on picket-line, and silently forming his conclusion. He now returned to Captain Glynn and shared his mess-box.