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As I had suspected； the trouble turned out to be merely exuberance or
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nervousness before a crowd。 He bucked once with me under the saddle；
and twice subsequently under a pack；that was all。 Buckshot was the
best pack…horse we had。 Bar an occasional saunter into the brush when
he got tired of the trail； we had no fault to find with him。 He carried a
heavy pack； was as sure…footed as Bullet； as sagacious on the trail as
Dinkey； and he always attended strictly to his own business。 Moreover
he knew that business thoroughly； knew what should be expected of him；
accomplished it well and quietly。 His disposition was dignified but
lovable。 As long as you treated him well； he was as gentle as you could
ask。 But once let Buckshot get it into his head that he was being imposed
on； or once let him see that your temper had betrayed you into striking him
when he thought he did not deserve it； and he cut loose vigorously and
emphatically with his heels。 He declined to be abused。
There remains but Lily。 I don't know just how to do justice to Lily
the 〃Lily maid。〃 We named her that because she looked it。 Her color
was a pure white； her eye was virginal and silly； her long bang strayed in
wanton carelessness across her face and eyes； her expression was foolish；
and her legs were long and rangy。 She had the general appearance of an
overgrown school…girl too big for short dresses and too young for long
gowns；a school…girl named Flossie； or Mamie； or Lily。 So we named
her that。
At first hers was the attitude of the timid and shrinking tenderfoot。
She stood in awe of her companions； she appreciated her lack of
experience。 Humbly she took the rear； slavishly she copied the other
horses； closely she clung to camp。 Then in a few weeks； like most
tenderfeet； she came to think that her short experience had taught her
everything there was to know。 She put on airs。 She became too cocky
and conceited for words。
Everything she did was exaggerated； overdone。 She assumed her
pack with an air that plainly said； 〃Just see what a good horse am I！〃 She
started out three seconds before the others in a manner intended to shame
their procrastinating ways。 Invariably she was the last to rest； and the
first to start on again。 She climbed over…vigorously； with the manner of
conscious rectitude。 〃Acts like she was trying to get her wages raised；〃
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said Wes。 In this manner she wore herself down。 If permitted she
would have climbed until winded； and then would probably have fallen off
somewhere for lack of strength。 Where the other horses watched the
movements of those ahead； in order that when a halt for rest was called
they might stop at an easy place on the trail； Lily would climb on until
jammed against the animal immediately preceding her。 Thus often she
found herself forced to cling desperately to extremely bad footing until the
others were ready to proceed。 Altogether she was a precious nuisance；
that acted busily but without thinking。
Two virtues she did possess。 She was a glutton for work； and she
could fall far and hard without injuring herself。 This was lucky； for she
was always falling。 Several times we went down to her fully expecting
to find her dead or so crippled that she would have to be shot。 The loss
of a little skin was her only injury。 She got to be quite philosophic about
it。 On losing her balance she would tumble peaceably； and then would
lie back with an air of luxury； her eyes closed； while we worked to free her。
When we had loosened the pack； Wes would twist her tail。 Thereupon
she would open one eye inquiringly as though to say； 〃Hullo！ Done
already？〃 Then leisurely she would arise and shake herself。
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IV
ON HOW TO GO ABOUT IT
One truth you must learn to accept； believe as a tenet of your faith； and
act upon always。 It is that your entire welfare depends on the condition
of your horses。 They must； as a consequence； receive always your first
consideration。 As long as they have rest and food； you are sure of getting
along； as soon as they fail； you are reduced to difficulties。 So absolute is
this truth that it has passed into an idiom。 When a Westerner wants to tell
you that he lacks a thing； he informs you he is 〃afoot〃 for it。 〃Give me a
fill for my pipe；〃 he begs； 〃I'm plumb afoot for tobacco。〃
Consequently you think last of your own comfort。 In casting about
for a place to spend the night； you look out for good feed。 That assured；
all else is of slight importance； you make the best of whatever camping
facilities may happen to be attached。 If necessary you will sleep on
granite or in a marsh； walk a mile for firewood or water； if only your
animals are well provided for。 And on the trail you often will work twice
as hard as they merely to save them a little。 In whatever I may tell you
regarding practical expedients； keep this always in mind。
As to the little details of your daily routine in the mountains； many are
worth setting down； however trivial they may seem。 They mark the
difference between the greenhorn and the old…timer； but； more important；
they mark also the difference between the right and the wrong； the
efficient and the inefficient ways of doing things。
In the morning the cook for the day is the first man afoot； usually
about half past four。 He blows on his fingers； casts malevolent glances at
the sleepers； finally builds his fire and starts his meal。 Then he takes
fiendish delight in kicking out the others。 They do n