Jo's Journey Read Online Free PDF Page B

here.”
    â€œThirty-five cents a pound! That’s highway robbery!”
    â€œEverything’s more in the Cariboo!”
    â€œWill we have to pack in feed for the horses if we hire some here?”
    â€œThere’s good grazing if we take the Brigade Route.”
    â€œIsn’t there gold hereabouts? Why don’t we just stop here?”
    â€œOnly enough for Chinamen. I ain’t breaking my back for three dollars a day.”
    Eventually it was decided that our group of twenty or so would join up with another party of some two dozen men who had arrived earlier in the day. A local man introduced us to Joshua, an old fellow who hired out pack-horses. Joshua was from Oregon, and I liked him right away.
    â€œHow much can each animal carry?” Mr. Emerson wanted to know.
    â€œA fit horse can take three hundred pounds, more or less, if you know how to pack him,” Joshua said.
    â€œAnd I suppose you know how, for the right price?” Mr. Emerson sneered.
    â€œI suppose I’d know how to do anything for the right price,” Joshua said with a wink in my direction.
    Mr. Emerson took several quick pulls on his pipe and narrowed his eyes. “You don’t say.”
    Never in all my life had I met a man as humorless as Mr. Emerson. How he was able to get through every day without so much as a smile was beyond my understanding. I raised an eyebrow back at Joshua, and the old man answered me with a little shrug followed by the clear statement of his fee.
    That’s how we hired Joshua and six of his horses to accompany us on our way. It was quickly apparent that Mr. Emerson had no feel for horses.
    â€œThat one there looks good and strong,” he said of a black horse that was tall enough, but not carrying much weight or muscle.When the horse swung his head around to sniff Mr. Emerson, he stepped back, obviously uneasy.
    â€œSir? Do you think it might be a good idea for Bart and me to keep an eye on Joshua?” I asked, desperate to think of a way to keep as far from Mr. Emerson as possible.
    Mr. Emerson squinted at me. Fact was, I believed that Joshua was both honest and capable. I also knew that Mr. Emerson was greedy, suspicious and lazy.
    Rolling the bowl of his pipe back and forth between his cupped palms he pronounced, “I like the way you look out for our best interests. You let me know if there’s any trouble.” He squeezed my shoulder as if we were the best of friends, and it was all I could do not to pull away.
    After that Bart and I were expected to help Joshua. Mr. Emerson frequently reminded us of our responsibilities, as if working with the horses had been his idea. Though our workdays grew longer, we were happy enough with the new arrangement.
    With more than two weeks of travel ahead of us to get to our next proper stop at Williams Lake, we took advantage of the supplies available in Lilloet. Our group now numbered forty-four men, some from as far away as Wales, Scotland, Ireland and England. Soon sacks of flour, more bacon, beans, coffee, salt, sugar and tobacco piled up with the rest of our gear. Early the next morning, Joshua, George, Bart and I loaded all that we could onto the newly procured horses.
    There was plenty to learn about packing the horses so the loads were secure, evenly balanced, and didn’t cause any troublesome sores. A sore horse was another mouth to feed, and I sure as anything didn’t want to carry even another ounce if I didn’t have to.
    When we finally set out, our own loads were considerably lightened, but we knew that British Columbia was a vast and mighty territory that took the lives of horses and men alike with no concern for those left behind.
    I had felt almost smug striding into town, but leaving again made me realize that the wild country ahead was probably beyond myimagining. Already the way had been diffi-cult, but judging by stories told by some of the men who had traveled this way before, only the