CHAPTER VII 



TO THE SHOE HILL COUNTRY 



THE morning of the 15th was grey, and 

 though the glass was falling, the weather 

 looked like clearing. The men dawdled about 

 and it was 11 before we all got away. Our 

 plans were to take three good packs up to Shoe 

 Hill Ridge and then send Joe back for what we 

 wanted from time to time. 



We had kippered all the big trout and very 

 excellent they were later on, for no fish were 

 to be had on the barrens. 



We reached the top of the ridge about 

 1 o'clock, when heavy rain set in. As I could 

 not walk in an oilskin, there was nothing for 

 it but to get wet through, and very soon I was 

 literally wet to the skin. We were all shivering 

 with cold as a bitter wind was blowing over 

 the open barrens, so at 2 o'clock we halted to 

 boil the kettle under the shelter of a big rock. 

 Though wet through, the men were as cheery 

 as ever, and Steve challenged Joe to race him 

 to the top of a small hill which was Millais' 

 look-out when he was camped in the Shoe Hill 



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