312 WITH GUN AND GUIDE 



The trail was now over rocks, and slippery with run- 

 ning water flowing in tiny streams among them. Mud 

 of the stickiest kind was encountered ; the horse, in- 

 stead of jamming my right leg against logs which 

 sometimes would move, now ran me into large boulders 

 that had fallen down from the side of the mountain 

 and lodged on the trail. 



The saddle was too wide -for me to ride in comfort, 

 and it seemed best to dismount and walk. Fortunately 

 the cayuse was white, and by keeping close up to him 

 I could be guided by his color ; but it was a continual 

 series of stumbles, first for the horse and then for myself. 



As for the mud, it covered my trousers and tall 

 leather boots. Kibbee kept on ahead, singing blithely 

 to cheer up old " Maud," the packhorse. Three times 

 the wise old horse stopped when the tips of the caribou 

 antlers struck against an obstruction overhead. Each 

 was a tree that had blown down across the trail, but 

 had lodged against other trees. It was necessary to 

 feel for the trees in the darkness and then cut them out 

 with the axe, and all the while " Maud " stood like a 

 statue. 



There's an end to all bad roads and trails, as there 

 was to this one. The night had become very cold, and 

 when we emerged from the trail into the stage road 

 running into Barkerville the muddy road had frozen 

 over in places and everywhere the mud was stiff, and 

 after stumbling over it for three miles, the lights from 



