Here began our acquaintance with the Blue Rat. It had become evident
to me during our stay in Quesnelle that we needed one more horse to
make sure of having provisions sufficient to carry us over the three
hundred and sixty miles which lay between the Fraser and our next
eating-place on the Skeena. Horses, however, were very scarce, and it
was not until late in the day that we heard of a man who had a pony
to sell. The name of this man was Dippy.

He was a German, and had a hare-lip and a most seductive gentleness
of voice. I gladly make him historical. He sold me the Blue Rat, and
gave me a chance to study a new type of horse.

Herr Dippy was not a Washington Irving sort of Dutchman; he conformed
rather to the modern New York tradesman. He was small, candid, and
smooth, very smooth, of speech. He said: "Yes, the pony is gentle. He
can be rode or packed, but you better lead him for a day or two till
he gets quiet."

I had not seen the pony, but my partner had crossed to the west side
of the Fraser River, and had reported him to be a "nice little pony,
round and fat and gentle." On that I had rested. Mr. Dippy joined us
at the ferry and waited around to finish the trade. I presumed he
intended to cross and deliver the pony, which was in a corral on the
west side, but he lisped out a hurried excuse. "The ferry is not
coming back for to-day and so--"

Well, I paid him the money on the strength of my side partner's
report; besides, it was Hobson's choice.

Mr. Dippy took the twenty-five dollars eagerly and vanished into
obscurity. We passed to the wild side of the Fraser and entered upon
a long and intimate study of the Blue Rat. He shucked out of the log
stable a smooth, round, lithe-bodied little cayuse of a blue-gray
color. He looked like a child's toy, but seemed sturdy and of good
condition. His foretop was "banged," and he had the air of a
mischievous, resolute boy. His eyes were big and black, and he
studied us with tranquil but inquiring gaze as we put the pack-saddle
on him. He was very small.

"He's not large, but he's a gentle little chap," said I, to ease my
partner of his dismay over the pony's surprising smallness.

"I believe he shrunk during the night," replied my partner. "He
seemed two sizes bigger yesterday."

We packed him with one hundred pounds of our food and lashed it all
on with rope, while the pony dozed peacefully. Once or twice I
thought I saw his ears cross; one laid back, the other