or theirs--why Thorne is just lost in the
crowd!"

"I don't believe it," protested Bob. "It would be a scandal."

"No, just politics," said Baker.

XVI

The sawmill lay on the direct trail to the back country. Every man
headed for the big mountains by way of Sycamore Flats passed fairly
through the settlement itself. So every cattleman out after provisions
or stock salt, followed by his docile string of pack mules, paused to
swap news and gossip with whoever happened for the moment to have
leisure for such an exchange.

The variety poured through this funnel of the mountains comprised all
classes. Professional prospectors with their burros, ready alike for the
desert or the most inaccessible crags, were followed by a troupe of
college boys afoot leading one or two old mares as baggage
transportation. The business-like, semi-military outfits of geological
survey parties, the worn but substantial hunters' equipments, the
marvellous and oftentimes ridiculous luxury affected by the wealthy
camper, the makeshifts of the poorer ranchmen of the valley, out with
their entire families and the farm stock for a "real good fish," all
these were of never-failing interest to Bob. In fact, he soon discovered
that the one absorbing topic--outside of bears, of course--was the
discussion, the comparison and the appraising of the various items of
camping equipment. He also found each man amusingly partisan for his
own. There were schools advocating--heatedly--the merits respectively of
the single or double cinch, of the Dutch oven or the reflector, of
rawhide or canvas kyacks, of sleeping bags or blankets. Each man had
invented some little kink of his own without which he could not possibly
exist. Some of these kinks were very handy and deserved universal
adoption, such as a small rubber tube with a flattened brass nozzle
with which to encourage reluctant fires. Others expressed an individual
idiosyncrasy only; as in the case of the man who carried clothes hooks
to screw into the trees. A man's method of packing was also closely
watched. Each had his own favourite hitch. The strong preponderance
seemed to be in favour of the Diamond, both single and double, but many
proved strongly addicted to the Lone Packer, or the Basco, or the
Miners', or the Square, or even the generally despised Squaw, and would
stoutly defend their choices, and give reasons therefore. Bob sometimes
amused himself practising these hitches in miniature