the pack-straps, made him think, and for the first time with
understanding, of the horses he had seen on city streets.

One ordeal that nearly destroyed him at first had been the food.
The extraordinary amount of work demanded extraordinary stoking, and
his stomach was unaccustomed to great quantities of bacon and of the
coarse, highly poisonous brown beans. As a result, his stomach went
back on him, and for several days the pain and irritation of it and
of starvation nearly broke him down. And then came the day of joy
when he could eat like a ravenous animal, and, wolf-eyed, ask for
more.

When they had moved the outfit across the foot-logs at the mouth of
the Canyon, they made a change in their plans. Word had come across
the Pass that at Lake Linderman the last available trees for
building boats were being cut. The two cousins, with tools,
whipsaw, blankets, and grub on their backs, went on, leaving Kit and
his uncle to hustle along the outfit. John Bellew now shared the
cooking with Kit, and both packed shoulder to shoulder. Time was
flying, and on the peaks the first snow was falling. To be caught
on the wrong side of the Pass meant a delay of nearly a year. The
older man put his iron back under a hundred pounds. Kit was
shocked, but he gritted his teeth and fastened his own straps to a
hundred pounds. It hurt, but he had learned the knack, and his
body, purged of all softness and fat, was beginning to harden up
with lean and bitter muscle. Also, he observed and devised. He
took note of the head-straps worn by the Indians, and manufactured
one for himself, which he used in addition to the shoulder-straps.
It made things easier, so that he began the practice of piling any
light, cumbersome piece of luggage on top. Thus, he was soon able