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line parted； t would whip。 So maybe half the time Buck and I worked without liaison； doing it dead slow ard depending on his judgment。
If there was not a sound anchor tree properly posi~ ioned
…and it seems to me that this happened more often than not…then we had to wait while I worked something out。 This cOuld be anything： a sling between two trees； then rig a fairlead to a third tree… A bare…rock anchor using driven pitons
…I hated these as I had to do my checking right at the rear axle； walking behind； and God help us all if I stumbled。 Then that was always followed by the time…consuming chore of salvaging those pitons…the harder the rock； the better the anchor； but the tougher the job of getting them out…and I had to get them out； I would need them farther along。
Sometimes no trees and … no rock… Once the anchor was twelve mules faced back along the trail； with Dora soothing them while I checked at a rear axle and Bu~k controlled the progress。
On the prairie we often made thirty kilometers a day。 Once we were through Hopeless Pass and had started down the gorge the distance made good over the ground could be zero for days on end while I prepared the trail ahead； then up to as high as ten kilometers if there were no steep pitches that required rappelling down by line。 I used just one unbreakable
rule： The trail bad to be fully prepared ~from one turnaround base to the next before a wagon was moved。
Minerva； it was so confounded slow that my 〃calendar〃 caught up with me； the sow littered…and we were not out of the mountains。 …
I don't recall ever making a harder decision。 Dora was in good shape； but she was halfway through her pregnancy~ Turn back （as I had promised myself； without teffing her）… or push on and hope to reach lower and fairly level ground' before she came to term？ Which would be easier on…her？
I had to consult her…but I had to decide。 Responsibility cannot be shared。 I knew how she would vote before I took the matter up with her： Push on。
But that would be simply her gallant courage； I was the one with experience both in wilderness trekking and in childbirth problems。
I studied those photomaps again without learning anything new。 Somewhere ahead the gorge opened out into a broad river valley…but how far？ I didn't know because I didn't know where we were。 We had started with an odometer on the right rear wheel of the lead wagon； I had reset it to zero at the pass…and it had lasted only a day or two； a rock or something did it in。 I didn't even know how much altitude we had managed to drop since the pass； or how much more we must lose to get down。
Livestock 。and equipment： fair。 We had lost two mules。 Pretty Girl had wandered over the edge one night and broken a leg； all I could do for her was to put her out of her misery。 I didn't butcher her … because we had fresh meat and I could not do it where the other mules could not see it； anyhow。 John Barleycorn had simply upped and died one night…orpossibly lost to a loper； he was partly eaten when we found him。 …
Three hens were dead and two piglets failed to make it； but the sow seemed willing to suckle the others。
I had only two spare wheels left。 Lose two more and the next broken wheel meant abandoning one wagon。
It was the wheels that made up my mind。
（Omitted： approximately 7；000 words which reiterate difilculties in getting down the gorge。）
When we came out on that plateau； we could see the valley
stretching out before us。…
A beautiful valley； Miner…va； wide and green and lovely… thousands and thousands of hectares of ideal farmland。 The river from the gorge； tame now； meandered lazily between low banks。 Facing us； a long； long way off； was a high peak crowned with snow。 Its snow line let me guess how high it was…around six thousand meters； for we had now dropped down into subtropics； and only a very high mountain could keep so much snow through a long and very hot summer。
That beautiful mountain； that lush green valley； gave me…a feeling of d閖？vu。 Then I placed it： Mount Hood in the land of my birth back on old Earth； as I bad first seen it as a young man。 'But this valley； this snowcapped peak； had never before been seen by men。
I called out to Buck to halt the march。 〃Dorable； we're home。 In sight of it； somewhere down in that valley。〃
〃'Home；' 〃 she repeated。 〃Oh； my darling！〃
〃Doa't sniffle。〃…
〃I wasn't sniffling！〃 she answered； sniffling。 〃But I've got an awful good cry saved up and when I get time to； I'm going to use it。〃
… 〃All right； ；dear；〃 I agreed； 〃when you have time。 Let's name that mountain 'Dora Mountain。'〃
She looked thoughtful。 〃No； that's not' its name。 That's Mount Hope。 And all this below is Happy Valley。〃
〃Durable Dora； you're incurably sentimental。〃
〃You should talk！〃 She patted her belly； swollen almost to term。 〃That's Happy Valley because it's whe're I'm going to have this hungry little beast 。 。 and that's Mount Hope because it is。〃
Buck had e back to the first wagon and was waiting to find out why we had stopped。 〃Buck；〃 I said； pointing； 〃that's home out there。 We made it。 Home； boy。 Farm。〃
Buck looked out over the valley。 〃Ogay。〃
…in his sleep； … Minerva。 Not lopers； there wasn't a mark on Buck。 Massive coronary； I think； although I didn't cut him open to find out。 He was simply old and tired。 Before we left； I had tried to put him to pasture with John Magee。 But Buck didn't want that。 We were his family； Dora and Beulah and I； and he wanted to e along。 So I made him mule boss and didn't work him…I mean I never rode him and never had him in harness。 He did work； as mule boss； and his patient good judgment got us safely to Happy Valley。 We would not have made it without him。
Maybe he could have lived a few years longer turned out to pasture。 Or be might have pined away frdm loneliness soon after we left。 Who's to judge？
I' didn't even consider butchering him； I think Dora would have miscarried if I had so much as broached the idea。 But it is foolish to bury a mule when lopers and weather will soon take care of his carcass。 So I buried him。
It takes an hellacious big hole to bury a mule； if it hadn't been soft river…bottom loam； I'd be there yet。
But first I had to deal with personnel problems。 Ken was just junior to Beulab in the water queue and was a steady； strong mule who talked fairly well。 On the other hand； Beulah had been Buck's straw boss the whole trek…but I could not recall a gang of mules bossed by a mare。 … …
Minerva； with H。 sapiens this would not matter； at least not today on Secundus。 But with some sorts of animals it does matter。 A boss elephant is female。 A boss chicken is a cock； not a hen。 A boss dog can be either sex。 In a breed where sex controls the matter a man had better by a damn sight go along with their ways。
I decided to see if Beulah could swing it； so I told her to。 line 'em up for harness； both as a test