esisting the frank smile, the open manner of the man, and
Cameron took the offered hand with a lighter heart than he had known for
the last twelve hours.

"Now, then, that's settled," cried the trader, springing to his feet.
"Cameron, you can pack this stuff together while Little Thunder and I
dig out our bunch of horses. They will be half frozen and it will be
hard to knock any life into them."

It was half an hour before Cameron had his packs ready, and, there being
no sign of the trader, he put on his heavy coat, mitts, and cap and
fought his way through the blizzard, which was still raging in full
force, to the bunk-house, a log building about thirty feet long and half
as wide, in which were huddled the horses and ponies to the number of
about twenty. Eight of the ponies carried pack saddles, and so busy were
Raven and the Indian with the somewhat delicate operation of assembling
the packs that he was close upon them before they were aware. Boxes and
bags were strewn about in orderly disorder, and on one side were several
small kegs. As Cameron drew near, the Indian, who was the first to
notice him, gave a grunt.

"What the blank blank are you doing here?" cried Raven with a string
of oaths, flinging a buffalo robe over the kegs. "My word! You startled
me," he added with a short laugh. "I haven't got used to you yet. All
right, Little Thunder, get these boxes together. Bring that grey cayuse
here, Cameron, the one with the rope on near the door."

This was easier said than done, for the half-broken brute snorted and
plunged till Cameron, taking a turn of the rope round his nose, forced
him up through the trembling, crowding bunch.

"Good!" said the trader. "You are all right. You didn't learn to rope a
cayuse in Edinburgh, I guess. Here's his saddle. Cinch it on."

While Cameron was engaged in carrying out these orders Little Thunder
and the trader were busy roping boxes and kegs into pack loads with a
skill and dexterity that could only be the result of long practice.

"Now, then, Cameron, we'll load some of this molasses on your pony."

So saying, Raven picked up one of the kegs.

"Hello, Little Thunder, this keg's leaking. It's lost the plug, as I'm a
sinner."

Sure enough, from a small auger hole golden syrup was streaming over the
edge of the keg.

"I am certain I put that plug in yesterday," said Raven. "Must have been
knocked out last night. Fortunately it stood right end up or we should
have los