a deerskin jacket fancifully embroidered, blue canvas overalls, and gum
boots to the knee, while, though all of them needed repair, the attire
was picturesque, and showed its wearer's lean symmetry. The man's age
was apparently twenty-five, and eight years' use of the axe had set a
stamp of springy suppleness upon him. He had also wrested rather more
than a livelihood from the Canadian forest during them.

All round him the loghouses rose in all their unadorned dinginess
beneath the sombre pines, and the largest of them bore a straggling
legend announcing that it was Horton's store and hotel. A mixed
company of bush ranchers, free prospectors, axemen, and miners lounged
outside it in picturesque disarray, and high above rose a dim white
line of never-melting snow.

"Well," said Alton, "it's time this circus was over, anyway, and if
Carter will take my bid I'll clinch that deal with you. Have the pack
and seizings handy, Charley."

The rancher nodded, and Alton got a tighter grip on the bridle. Then
the Cayuse rose upright with fore-hoofs lifted, and the man's arm was
drawn back to strike. The hoofs came down harmlessly, but the fist got
home, and for a moment or two there was a swaying and plunging of man
and beast amidst the hurled-up snow. Then the Cayuse was borne
backwards until the vicinity of the hotel verandah left no room for
kicking, and another man hastily flung a rope round the bundles he
piled upon its back. He was also tolerably capable, and in another
minute the struggle was over. The Cayuse's attitude expressed
indignant astonishment, while Alton stood up breathless, with his
knuckles bleeding.