8 



RECREATION. 



place, and the best pack horses follow their 

 leaders through thick and thin. If a Smart 

 Aleck undertakes to go around a bog, gets 

 in up to his neck and you have to get off, 

 wade in and help him out, you are tempted 

 to say things that would not sound well in 

 Sunday school. 



Buck scared me stiff half a dozen times 

 when fording big creeks and rivers. If he 

 saw Tom's saddle horse go in up to his 

 belly, Buck would straightway conclude he 

 could find a shallower place, and he often 

 came near going in up to his neck before 

 we could head him off. We always tried 

 to make up the packs so they would stand 

 dumping in the river without getting wet ; 

 but this is sometimes impossible. If you 

 have a valuable camera and a lot of still 

 more valuable exposed plates in a pack 

 which is not thoroughly waterproof, and 

 see the horse that carries them heading for 

 a deep hole, the chills are apt to chase one 

 another up and down your spine mighty 

 fast. We finally learned to put packs on 

 Buck with which he could swim, if he 

 wanted to, and we put the cameras, the 

 sugar, the cigars, the cereals, and other 

 perishable goods on a more obedient horse. 



Old Buck gave us the only genuine ex- 

 hibition of Wild West rough bucking we 

 had on the trip. On our way to Banff, 

 after we had broken our last camp, we 

 were going through a patch of burnt tim- 

 ber when Darkey jammed one of his side 

 packs against a dead tree, about 4 inches 

 in diameter and 30 feet high. The tree 

 went down with a wild sweep, and hit old 

 Buck across the hind quarters, just as he 

 was reaching for a bite of grass. The dead 

 branches crashed over the poor creature 

 with a racket that would have wakened a 

 dead horse ; and Buck was not dead, by a 

 long way. He quit the outfit, struck into 

 a meadow near and started to run in a 

 circle, hitting only the high places. Every 

 time he touched the ground he went into 

 the air as if he had hit a live wire. He 

 doubled, and turned, and bent his back ac- 

 cording to the most approved methods of 

 thoroughbred bucking. The load was on 

 to stay, but it could not stay through such 

 a siege, and Buck never quit until he 

 dumped the whole outfit and had wrapped 

 the lash rope several times around both 

 hind legs. If he had not succeeded in do- 

 ing himself up that way he might have been 

 bucking yet, for all I know ; for he went at 

 it with an apparent determination to stay 

 until he got through. 



Later in the day another horse ran 

 against a dead limb, which broke with a 

 loud report, and Buck's head was in the 

 air in an instant, to see if the tree was 

 coming his way. He was ready to unload 

 again, if need be, but it wasn't. 



Buck does not tolerate any undue famili- 



arity on the part of his traveling compan- 

 ions, or of strange horses. When we 

 turned out the bunch at night Buck always 

 stayed near the others, but did not care 

 to be too near them, nor to have them 

 come too near him. If any one of them 

 came rubbering around, trying to be 

 chummy with Buck, he was likely to get a 

 gentle reminder in the shape of an im- 

 pression of Buck's teeth, or one of his hind 

 feet, whichever happened to be nearest to 

 the intruder at the time. We were pass- 

 ing through a little mining town and an 

 old horse was picketed near the main street. 

 He offered to greet the visitors warmly, and 

 walked up to Buck, trying to touch noses 

 and be friendly. Buck made a dive for 

 him with his mouth open like that of a big 

 alligator, and it looked as if he was going 

 to bite the old horse's neck off. The re- 

 ception committee changed its mind sud- 

 denly, and made a dash to the rear. He 

 stood looking at us until we were out of 

 sight, and seemed to be saying to himself, 

 "Well, that's the surliest old cuss I ever 

 saw." 



With all his faults, Buck is one of the 

 most powerful and enduring brutes I ever 

 knew, and if I were making up a pack 

 train for a summer tour I would gladly 

 give $100 for him, though good pack horses 

 sell in that country at $30 to $40. 



Billy is a large, long legged, lanky bay 

 horse and attends to his own business 

 about as well as any in the train. He is 

 slow of motion and usually drifts to the 

 tail end of the procession early in the day. 

 A quirt has no terrors for him, so I had 

 plenty of chance to develop the muscles in 

 my right arm, in order to keep him in 

 sight of the outfit. He has a coming appe- 

 tite and an ungovernable fondness for 

 dropping out of the trail to nab a tempt- 

 ing bunch of grass or brush; but barring 

 these little digressions he stays in line 

 and saws wood, from morning till night. 

 He cares not how big a load is put on 

 him, nor how much tinware, how many 

 kettles, or anything else it contains, or how 

 much racket they make. All is freight that 

 comes his way and whatever is put on him 

 in the morning will be there at night, when 

 camp is struck. 



Brownie is made up much like Buck, 

 both mentally and physically, excepting 

 that he is wholly contented to stay in the 

 trail. Only occasionally does he leave it, 

 when passing an unusually tempting bit 

 of grass, and a warning from the driver 

 sends him on a jump into his proper place. 

 He is as brawny as an ox and will not 

 rebel if 500 pounds are put on him. For- 

 tunately, we did not have to load any of 

 our horses above 250 pounds, and most of 

 the time the heaviest loads did not weigh 

 200 pounds. Old Brownie was so faithful 



