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.
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