sickly fashion at the find.

Realizing, in much pain, that some protection for his feet was an
absolute necessity, he tore a pelt in two for sandals. Much search
resulted in the discovery of a bit of rotted rope, which he unraveled
and thereby bound a piece of sheepskin upon each bruised foot. They
were not pretty, but they answered the purpose. The other pelt he
disposed of easily by tying the two front legs together around his
neck and letting the pelt hang down his back as far as it would reach.
There being nothing more that he could do in the way of
self-adornment, Happy Jack went out again into the hot afternoon. At
his best, Happy Jack could never truthfully be called handsome; just
now, clothed inadequately in gray Stetson hat and two meager
sheepskins, he looked scarce human.

Cheered a bit, he set out sturdily over the hills toward the mouth of
Suction Creek. The Happy Family would make all kinds of fools of
themselves, he supposed, if he showed up like this; but he might not
be obliged to appear before them in his present state of undress; he
might strike some other camp, first. Happy Jack was still forced to be
hopeful. He quite counted on striking another camp before reaching the
wagons of the Flying U.

The sun slid farther and farther toward the western rim of tumbled
ridges as Happy Jack, in his strange raiment, plodded laboriously to
the north. The mantle he was forced to shift constantly into a new
position as the sun's rays burned deep a new place, or the stiff hide
galled his blistered shoulders. The sandals did better, except that
the rotten strands of rope were continually wearing through on the
bottom, so that he must stop and tie fresh knots, or replace the bit