knows better than to put anything 

 else on Maybell. It will be kinder 

 moist for a snooze. There goes a 

 shoe. He's got it." In half an hour 

 Maybell's soggy burden was in place, 

 various cinches tightened and the 

 train again in line, jogging along 

 comfortably for the day now, I 

 hoped, at the usual three miles an 

 hour gait. 



The trail wound up an easy ascent 

 through pleasant meadows, jewelled 

 with dainty purple lupin bloom and 

 the feathery red-top, and, scattered 

 freely with great patches of daisies, 

 like Nature's linen on the grass to 

 bleach: through groves of aspen 

 fluttering careless leaves for every 

 vagrant zephyr and into the dark- 

 hearted pines, mysterious with the 

 messages of the ages past, ere man 

 was born, and the gods of the grow- 

 ing things trod their shaded aisles. 

 The trail slipped under fallen forest 

 prides, the mighty sticks that time 

 had felled as easily as the sapling is 

 broken by the wind. It leaped over 

 baby brooks just learning to run down 

 the hillside, and slipped from stone 

 to stone, to where the torrents dashed 





