Boy Scouts in Glacier Park Part 9

"But why do they eat such--such dry stuff? It's worse than patent breakfast food without cream," said Joe.

"Salt," the man replied. "They'll eat anything a man or a horse has touched, to get it salty with perspiration--an axe handle, for instance.

I knew a lumber jack once who had a grudge against a feller, so he put salt on his cabin roof, and the porcs came in the night and ate the roof most off. There come a rain the next day, too."

The boys laughed. They wanted to ask their visitor who he was, but didn't see quite how to bring it about. Finally Tom said, "Won't--won't you have some breakfast?"

"Had mine," the man answered. "Might take a cup of coffee, though. Yours smells good."

He sat down on the log which was serving the boys as a chair, first easing his belt holster, which held a 38-calibre automatic.

"He must be a Park Ranger," Tom whispered to Joe. "n.o.body else can carry arms in the Park, they say."

Joe brought him a cup of coffee, and as he took it, he said, "Well, boys, I hear you're goin' to look after the tepee camp. Thought I'd come down to inspect you. I'm the Ranger for this district. Mills is my name.

My cabin's just up the trail a piece toward Swift Current. Let me know if I can do anything for you."

"Thank you, sir," said Joe. "Some time, if you--you'd----"

He hesitated, turning red at the boldness of his demand.

The Ranger waited in silence, only keeping a pale blue eye on his face, but a kindly eye.

"----if you'd show me how to throw a diamond hitch."

"Is that all?" said the Ranger, with one of his silent laughs. "I thought you were goin' to ask me for a thousand dollars. I can show you the diamond hitch 'most any time. I'm packing off to-day, about ten.

Come around and get a lesson. Ride a horse, either of you?"

"Well, we ride just a little--farm horses out to plowing, and things like that," Spider replied.

"I have an extra horse. Maybe one of you'll come along with me some day when you both ain't needed in the camp. If you can always make coffee like this I'd like you along."

"Joe's the cook," Tom said. "He can go any time. It's I who am running the camp. He's just loafing and getting well. He's been sick."

"Well, Joe, you come out to my cabin at ten, and you can see me throw a hitch," the Ranger said, getting up, "and ride up the trail with me a spell, if you want."

Joe's eyes grew big with excitement. "I'll be there!" he cried.

The Ranger went back again, and the two scouts looked at each other.

"Say, he's some prince!" Joe exclaimed. "But I don't like to be getting the first ride ahead of you. I wouldn't do it, only if I learn to ride, and tie a pack on, maybe I can get a job as cook."

"Go to it, old scout," Tom answered. "That's what we came here for."

After breakfast Tom went over to the chalets to report and to do some work around the camp, and before ten o'clock Joe was at the Ranger's log cabin.

Mills, the Ranger, had three horses out of the little stable behind, and was putting a saddle on the largest horse.

"Go get the other saddle from the stable, and let's see you put it on your horse," he said.

Joe brought the saddle, a regular western saddle, with the high back and the horn in front, and did his best to get it on. The Ranger watched him a minute, and then showed him how to cinch it properly and tight.

"Don't be afraid to pull it hard," he said. "The old nag'll lose some of his belly before he gets home, and if you've not cinched it tight your saddle will slip."

Mills now put a saddle blanket on the third horse, and then a pack saddle, which is a framework of wood, arranged like a saddle underneath with a cinch belt under the belly and a broad canvas belt extending around the back and under the tail. After this is put on the horse the wooden frame of the saddle makes a kind of platform on each side to rest the pack upon. The Ranger now brought out his stuff--dunnage bags, an axe, blankets, a canvas covering, and a long rope.

"You hold his head," said he to Joe, "and talk to him real kind, while I hang the bags on."

One bag was hung on one side, one on the other, to balance the pack, and then, while the horse tried to do a one-step on Joe's toes with his front legs, and kick Mills in the stomach with his hind legs, the Ranger threw the blankets on top, done up in a flat roll, over the whole saddle, and covered them with the tarpaulin. Finally, he took the long rope, which Joe saw had a canvas band and strap on one end, and fastened this strap, like a cinch, around the horse's belly.

"Now," said he, "we are ready to throw a hitch. Come here and help.

We'll throw a double one, because that's stronger."

Joe soon saw that the process consists of weaving the rope back and forth under the sides of the saddle and then crossways over the top, in such a way that when it is done the strands of rope, from above, would be seen to make a diamond. Each time the rope was pa.s.sed over to Mills, he took the end, braced one foot against the horse, and pulled it taut.

Joe did the same on his side.

"Won't I hurt the horse?" he asked.

The Ranger laughed. "I give you leave, if you can," he said.

When the rope was all used, Mills fastened the end, went over the whole thing with his hand, testing it to see if it was tight, and then finished by giving the horse a resounding slap.

"That's the way you have to finish," he said, "or the horse wouldn't think you were through."

"I wouldn't think the horse would like to be packed much," Joe suggested.

"Never knew one that did," Mills replied. "Lots o' times, while you're throwing the hitch, that canvas band under the tail works up and sort o'

tickles the horse, and then, Oh, Boy, look out! Your plug'll buck, and a packhorse don't reckon he's done a real good job o' buckin' till he's covered about three square acres of ground, and deposited canned beef, tea, syrup, blankets, axes, coffee-pots and a few other things entirely over said area. Then, when you cinch him tight before you start, too, he's likely to feel that's goin' to interfere with his digestion, and start buckin'. A packhorse is an ornery critter."

But this horse, now he was packed, was quiet as a kitten, waiting for the party to start. The Ranger called to Joe's horse, which had wandered away.

"Now mount," said Mills.

Joe, on the right side of his horse, started to put his right foot into the stirrup, and the horse s.h.i.+ed away from him, almost spilling him on the ground.

"First lesson," said the Ranger. "Never get on a horse from the right.

Some of 'em don't mind, but most of 'em do. No use tempting Providence."

Joe came around to the left side, and grasping the horse by the mane and the saddle horn, swung himself up.

"Now, just stand up as straight-legged as you can, and see how many fingers you can put between your saddle and the crotch of your legs."

"Two," said Joe. "Oughtn't my stirrups to be shorter?"

"If you want to ride like a bally British monkey, or a jockey, yes,"

Mills answered. "If you want to ride like a regular human bein', they're just right. Let's see you trot."

Joe tightened the reins and gave his horse a jab with his heels, and the animal started off with abrupt suddenness, at a sharp trot. Poor Joe began to bob up and down, and bang the base of his spine against the saddle. He tried to rise on his toes with the motion of the horse, but that, he felt, only made him the more awkward. The Ranger came up alongside, and pa.s.sed him.

"Watch me," he said. "Just barely stand in your stirrups, comfortable like, bend forward from your hips, and let your body, not your legs, keep the gait."