“Say, he’s some prince!” Joe exclaimed. “But I don’t like to be getting the first ride ahead of you. I wouldn’t do it, only if I learn to ride, and tie a pack on, maybe I can get a job as cook.”
“Go to it, old scout,” Tom answered. “That’s what we came here for.”
After breakfast Tom went over to the chalets to report and to do some work around the camp, and before ten o’clock Joe was at the Ranger’s log cabin.
Mills, the Ranger, had three horses out of the little stable behind, and was putting a saddle on the largest horse.
“Go get the other saddle from the stable, and let’s see you put it on your horse,” he said.
Joe brought the saddle, a regular western saddle, with the high back and the horn in front, and did his best to get it on. The Ranger watched him a minute, and then showed him how to cinch it properly and tight.
“Don’t be afraid to pull it hard,” he said. “The old nag’ll lose some of his belly before he gets home, and if you’ve not cinched it tight your saddle will slip.”
Mills now put a saddle blanket on the third horse, and then a pack saddle, which is a framework of wood, arranged like a saddle underneath with a cinch belt under the belly and a broad canvas belt extending around the back and under the tail. After this is put on the horse the wooden frame of the saddle makes a kind of platform on each side to rest the pack upon. The Ranger now brought out his stuff—dunnage bags, an axe, blankets, a canvas covering, and a long rope.
“You hold his head,” said he to Joe, “and talk to him real kind, while I hang the bags on.”
One bag was hung on one side, one on the other, to balance the pack, and then, while the horse tried to do a one-step on Joe’s toes with his front legs, and kick Mills in the stomach with his hind legs, the Ranger threw the blankets on top, done up in a flat roll, over the whole saddle, and covered them with the tarpaulin. Finally, he took the long rope, which Joe saw had a canvas band and strap on one end, and fastened this strap, like a cinch, around the horse’s belly.