"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 lost the whole keg."
While he was speaking he was shaping a small stick into a small plug,
which he drove tight into the keg.
"That will fix it," he said. "Now then, put these boxes on the other
side. That will do. Take your pony toward the door and tie him there.
Little Thunder and I will load the rest and bring them up."
In a very short time all the remaining goods were packed into neat loads
and lashed upon the pack ponies in such a careful manner that neither
box nor keg could be seen outside the cover of blankets and buffalo
skins.
"Now then," cried Raven. "Boots and saddles! We will give you a better
mount to-day," he continued, selecting a stout built sorrel pony. "There
you are! And a dandy he is, sure-footed as a goat and easy as a cradle.
Now then, Nighthawk, we shall just clear out this bunch."
As he spoke he whipped the blanket off his horse. Cameron could not
forbear an exclamation of wonder and admiration as his eyes fell
upon Raven's horse. And not without reason, for Nighthawk was as
near perfection as anything in horse flesh of his size could be. His
coal-black satin skin, his fine flat legs, small delicate head, sloping
hips, round and well ribbed barrel, all showed his breed.
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