Black Boulder Claim

aken none of his speed and agility. I slipped the halter over his nose with: " Take it easy, horse. There's a hard pull ahead foryou," and he muzzled my shoulder, his cold nose against my ear, as he followed me to the stable. While he ate his breakfast, I saddled him carefully, his own blanket, then mine, folded beneath the leather; the cinch tight but not binding; and I began packing with an even distribution of the load. Two burlap sacks with the bulk of the weight were so roped together that they hung high one on either stirrup-flap and gave a foundation for lighter but bulkier stuff which must make up the load. In the burlaps were my provisions, oats for Zim, extra clothing, towels and soap. Matches were in corked brass cartridge shells, absolutely waterproof, in a canvas bag with a coffee-pot, a small boiling- pot, two tin plates, a tin cup, knife, fork and spoon. This was tied across the saddle seat, with another sack behind it, hitched to the cantle, in which rattled a frying-pan and my miner's pan, a horn spoon, a deep iron spoon big enough to melt metal over fire, and a prospector's hammer. When these four sacks had been firmly fastened with Zim's picket-rope to Zim's back, I poked in between their coils and his sides, a poll-pick, a long handled shovel, and an axe, hung over the pummel my repeating rifle in its leathern boot and a large canteen filled with water, strung a belt of cartridges over the cantle to lash at its rings, then stood back to... --This text refers to an alternate Paperback edition.