Rolling up the
blanket, Raven strapped it to his saddle and, flinging himself astride
his horse, gave a yell that galvanised the wretched, shivering,
dispirited bunch into immediate life and activity.
"Get out the packers there, Little Thunder. Hurry up! Don't be all day.
Cameron, fall behind with me."
Little Thunder seized the leading line of the first packer, leaped
astride his own pony, and pushed out into the storm. But the rest of the
animals held back and refused to face the blizzard. The traditions of
the cayuse are unheroic in the matter of blizzards and are all in favor
of turning tail to every storm that blows. But Nighthawk soon overcame
their reluctance, whether traditional or otherwise. With a fury nothing
less than demoniacal he fell upon the animals next him and inspired them
with such terror that, plunging forward, they carried the bunch crowding
through the door. It was no small achievement to turn some twenty
shivering, balky, stubborn cayuses and bronchos out of their shelter
and swing them through the mazes of the old lumber camp into the trail
again. But with Little Thunder breaking the trail and chanting his
encouraging refrain in front and the trader and his demoniac stallion
dynamically bringing up the rear, this achievement was effected without
the straying of a single animal.
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