imes each
day I went to feed and water him. I rubbed him with hay till his coat
began to glimmer in the light and planned what I could do to help
him through a storm. Fortunately the ocean was perfectly smooth even
across the entrance to Queen Charlotte's Sound, where the open sea
enters and the big swells are sometimes felt. Ladrone never knew he
was moving at all.

The mate of the boat took unusual interest in the horse because of
his deeds and my care of him.

Meanwhile I was hearing from time to time of my fellow-sufferers on
the Long Trail. It was reported in Wrangell that some of the
unfortunates were still on the snowy divide between the Skeena and
the Stikeen. That terrible trail will not soon be forgotten by any
one who traversed it.

On the fifth day we entered Seattle and once more the sling-box
opened its doors for Ladrone. This time he struggled not at all. He
seemed to say: "I know this thing. I tried it once and it didn't hurt
me--I'm not afraid."

Now this horse belongs to the wild country. He was born on the
bunch-grass hills of British Columbia and he had never seen a
street-car in his life. Engines he knew something about, but not
much. Steamboats and ferries he knew a great deal about; but all the
strange monsters and diabolical noises of a city street were new to
him, and it was with some apprehension that I took his rein to lead
him down to the freight depot and his car.

Again this wonderful horse amazed me. He pointed his alert and
quivering ears at me and followed with never so much as a single
start or shying bound. He seemed to reason that as I had led him
through many dangers safely I could still be trusted. Around us huge
trucks rattled, electric cars clanged, railway engines whizzed and
screamed, but Ladrone never so much as tightened the rein; and when
in the dark of the chute (which led to the door of the car) he put
his soft nose against me to make sure I was still with him, my heart
grew so tender that I would not have left him behind for a thousand
dollars.

I put him in a roomy box-car and bedded him knee-deep in clean yellow
straw. I padded the hitching pole with his blanket, moistened his
hay, and put some bran before him. Then I nailed him in and took my
leave of him with some nervous dread, for the worst part of his
journey was before him. He must cross three great mountain ranges and
ride eight days, over more than two thousand miles of railway. I
could not well go with