pitiless country on horse and man, 

 only the "roachback" thrives and 

 the wing-footed goat. 



For three days on the trail we had 

 climbed and panted and climbed, 

 varied only by a day's travel in a 

 cedar swamp, a fearsome place where 

 we were like midges in a glue pot. 

 It took long to forget the despair- 

 ing struggles of our laden animals 

 as they stuck in the mire. Imagine 

 taking a pleasure trip where groans 

 and frightened horse squeals and 

 visions of broken legs and necks 

 danced in the air, when to stay 

 mounted was one's only safety. 

 Jerk, your horse misses footing on 

 a comparatively firm tussock and 

 flounders fetlock, knee, shoulder 

 deep, plunging, rearing, squealing, 

 jump, jerk, down nose in the mire; 

 up, at last something firmer, a clump 

 of willow roots for forefeet, a tre- 

 mendous bound you on top all the 

 time, and the hind ones are out, all 

 four hoofs in a foot's space. An in- 

 stant for breath, but the footing too 

 frail for such weight, again you 

 plunge in, dodging the low, snarled 

 branches so heavily interlaced above 



