The river here became impracticable, and Job went forward to hunt
out the trail. The sandhills at this point stood back a little
from the river. The low-lying land between was thickly wooded, but
up on the hills the walking was good. So the trail was cut
straight up the bank which was eighty feet high and very steep.

If any one supposes that cutting a trail means making a nice,
smooth little path through the woods, let him revise his ideas.
The hill-side was a network of new growth and windfalls. Now and
again I made the mistake of calling them deadfalls. Certainly all
women, and perhaps a few men, would think the mistake pardonable
could they see the trail which led straight over the tangled heaps
of fallen tree-trunks. I watched the men carrying the canoes and
their heavy loads over these with wonder almost equal to that with
which I had looked at Job's work in the rapids.

The outfit made about four loads each for them, and when it was all
safe on top of the hill, Joe sat down trembling like a leaf.
George looked a bit shaky, and Gilbert very hot and tired.

Joe said: "In a week George and I will be hardened up so that there
won't be any trembling."

Job said: "Always hard."

By noon it had grown very hot. There was scarcely a stir in the
air, and the sun beat down on the sand-hills in no gentle manner.
The perspiration ran down the men's faces as they carried, and the
flies were beginning to come. After lunch Job set up two impromptu
wigwams, stringing a tarpaulin over each, and under these shelters