A SPORTSMAN'S EDEN. 



Packing is one of the principal trades in these 

 remote districts, and many men, whites as well 

 as redskins, live by it in the summer months, 

 carrying provisions for the winter and stock-in- 

 trade to the different ranches and stores up 

 country. On our road we met pack-trains of all 

 sorts, mules and greasers, a redskin chief and his 

 cayouses, and even a train of Chinese Johnnies 

 in sky-blue combinations and pig-tails. It is a 

 lazy life, suited to the redskin and the Mexi- 

 can, who begin the day with an hour's work 

 hard enough to be pleasant in the cool of the 

 morning, lashing on the multitudinous packages. 

 As each beast is fixed, and his head-rope neatly 

 coiled and fastened, he gets a gentle kick in the 

 barrel as a hint to clear out, and moves off for a 

 quiet browse until the rest are ready. By-and- 

 by the last is ' fixed/ and then for an hour the 

 pack-train moves lazily along, the men shouting 

 from time to time and smoking incessantly. At 

 the end of an hour the horses' barrels have grown 

 a trifle smaller, and in spite of all the hauling at 

 the ropes in the morning, some of the packs have 

 shifted a bit. So a halt is called, and the back- 

 sliders among the packs readjusted, the train 

 starts again, and probably gets through its day's 

 journey of ten miles without further interruption. 

 At four the train stops, the packs are taken off, 



