“There! Those horses have sense enough to know they can’t drag this wagon up the brook if you haven’t,” exclaimed Phil. “We’ll tie them, get our axes, and cut out a road.”
“All right, go ahead, if you want to. Better take out some grub, though. You couldn’t cut out a road in a week. I’m going up to camp and I’m going to drive up. Come on, you beauties! Steady, now! Giddap!” And he slapped the blacks sharply with the reins.
For an instant the horses teetered; quivering, they leaped forward, lifting the wagon from the ground.
“Steady! None of that!” soothed Ted. And as they stepped into the brook, he went on: “That isn’t so bad, is it? Go on, now.”
Apparently finding that the water flowing against their legs was not an unpleasant feeling, the blacks advanced cautiously, pausing every now and then, only to resume their way as they heard Ted’s voice reassuring them.
With reins tight, and looking steadily ahead to guard against holes, the boy guided the horses through the brook until the heavily wooded land had been passed, when he again reined them onto land. Twice more was it necessary to take to the brook before they reached their shake-down, which they finally did without mishap.
“Phew! I wouldn’t go through that again for a good deal,” exclaimed Phil, as he sprang to the ground in front of the bough hut. “I’m as weak as a rag.”
“It wasn’t much fun, I’ll admit,” answered Ted. “But, fortunately, we won’t need to go out again until we have cut a road. We’ll unharness and then get something to eat. I’m hungry as a bear.”
Slowly and awkwardly the young home-steaders went about the task of unhitching the blacks, but at last they managed to pull off the heavy harnesses, put on the halters, made them fast to some stout saplings and fed them. But instead of tying the saddle ponies, they hobbled them—discrimination which the blacks resented.
“Shall we unload first and then eat or eat and then unload?” asked Phil, after they had hung the heavy harnesses in a tree beside the hut.