How they endured so uncomplainingly I
could not understand, and they rarely wore their veils. It was an
unspeakable relief when the clear, cool night closed in, and for a
time put an end to the torture.
CHAPTER VIII
SCARING THE GUIDES
I awoke on Friday at 2.30 A.M. The morning was clear as diamonds,
and from the open front of my tent I could see the eastern sky. It
glowed a deep red gold, and I lay watching it. An hour later the
sun appeared over the hills touching the peak of my tent with its
light, and I got up to look out. The mists had gathered on our
little lake, and away in the distance hung white over the river.
Gilbert was busy getting wood and preparing the breakfast. Soon I
heard him at the door of the men's tent saying, "All aboard."
"Any mosquitoes this morning, Gilbert?"
"Not a one. Too cold. By Garge, but it's cold this morning! I
went down to the lake and tried to wash, but I had to l'ave off.
It was too cold."
Shortly I heard them at the fire. The click of the cups told me
that they were taking a little tea and bannock before starting to
carry. Then all was quiet, and one load had gone forward to the
next lake, nearly a half mile ahead.
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