" said Uncle Dick. "That's the
McLeod River, and I confess I'll be happy when we get beyond it. The
railway survey runs on this side, but the old trail crosses it and
runs on the north side, and we have to follow the trail."

"Suppose we get to Moose Creek in two or three hour," said Moise.
"Then in about one or two hour we come on the McLeod where we'll ford
it. Then seven or height mile good trail, we'll come on those Big
Eddy. Those was good place for camp to-night, s'pose we'll all get
there and not any of us drowned."

"I don't think any of us'll drown, Moise," said Uncle Dick, quietly;
"we're not going to take any chances unless we have to. Well, if
you're all ready we might push on."

Uncle Dick now once more led the way, followed close by old Betsy,
Billy following her close and next in order. The young claybank horse,
which made Moise so much trouble, now undertook to usurp a place just
back of Betsy instead of falling to the rear of the train where he
belonged. But as he approached meek-looking old Billy, the latter laid
back his ears and kicked violently at the claybank, hitting him in the
shoulder a resounding thwack.

"Aha! you fool horse," said Moise to the offending claybank, "that's
what you'll get for not know your place on the train. S'pose you got
back now where you belong, eh?"

By this time the horses for the most part, however, were learning
their places on the trail, and in a very few days later each horse had
his own place, of which he was very jealous, resenting any attempt to
take it away from him by vicious bites or kicks. How or why
pack-horses regulate their own affairs in this way no one can tell,
but our young friends had occasion to see it proved in their own
travel.

Their trail now led through rather sharply rolling country, covered
with poplar or jack-pine groves, with now and then a bit of soft bog
at the foot of little valleys. At times from little heights of land
they could get a glimpse of the wide flat country extending on either
side, for the most part covered with dark forest growth. Not meeting
any serious trouble with muskegs, they were all pretty well used to
the trail by the time they had crossed Moose Creek.

"We won't stop here," said Uncle Dick. "Get up, Danny," and he urged
his saddle-horse forward. "I want to see about that McLeod crossing."

It was afternoon, and in truth every one was a little tired when at
length they came to the deep valley of the McLeod R