olumn as many tins of tan-leather
dressing as there were rifles. On that march my own outfit was as
unwieldy as a gypsy's caravan. It consisted of an enormous cart, two
oxen, three Basuto ponies, one Australian horse, three servants, and four
hundred pounds of supplies and baggage. When it moved across the plain
it looked as large as a Fall River boat. Later, when I joined the
opposing army, and was not expected to maintain the dignity of a great
London daily, I carried all my belongings strapped to my back, or to the
back of my one pony, and I was quite as comfortable, clean, and content
as I had been with the private car and the circus tent.

Throughout the Greek war, as there were no horses to be had for love or
money, we walked, and I learned then that when one has to carry his own
kit the number of things he can do without is extraordinary. While I
marched with the army, offering my kingdom for a horse, I carried my
outfit in saddle-bags thrown over my shoulder. And I think it must have
been a good outfit, for I never bought anything to add to it or threw
anything away. I submit that as a fair test of a kit.

Further on, should any reader care to know how for several months one may
keep going with an outfit he can pack in two saddle-bags, I will give a
list of the articles which in three campaigns I carried in mine.

Personally, I am for travelling "light," but at the very start one is
confronted with the fact that what one man calls light to another savors
of luxury. I call fifty pounds light; in Japan we each were allowed the
officer's allowance of sixty-six pounds. Lord Wolseley, in his
"Pocketbook," cuts down the officer's kit to forty pounds, while
"Nessmut," of the _Forest and Stream_, claims that for a hunting trip,
all one wants does not weigh over twenty-six pounds. It is very largely
a question of compromise. You cannot eat your cake and have it. You
cannot, under a tropical sun, throw away your blanket and when the night
dew falls wrap it around you. And if, after a day of hard climbing or
riding, you want to drop into a folding chair, to make room for it in
your carry-all you must give up many other lesser things.

By travelling light I do not mean any lighter than the necessity demands.
If there is transport at hand, a man is foolish not to avail himself of
it. He is always foolish if he does not make things as easy for himself
as possible. The tenderfoot will not agree with this. Wit