At noon as we were working our way over a rough and deeply rutted plot of meadow by the river, the pack horses, in disputing the right of priority to one of the ditches, rubbed their packing cases together so vigorously that the metal hangers of one of the saddles broke and it required an hour of time and all the string and straps we could muster to enable us to proceed. That night the farmer, in a little forge as primitive as that of Tubal Cain, wrought new hangers. Nearly every farmer has one of these little forges for repairing his instruments. When the shop is not in use as a blacksmith’s shop it is often used for smoking meat and fish. Soon after the accident we reached _Thjórsáholt_, Bull-Ridge. Here we had our dinner upon the grass between the house and the river, the weather being delightful. The _Thjórsá_ is broad and rapid and its waters are icy cold. The farmer has a small boat and is required by the government to act as ferryman. At the bank of the river, packing cases, saddles and bridles were all piled in a heap into the shaky and leaking boat. We drove the ponies into the water to swim to the other side. The two pack horses fully understood what was expected of them and struck boldly into the current. Some of the saddle ponies, after being swept down stream a short distance, being chilled in the water, returned to the shore. We drove them in again and this time they persevered. How I pitied them in the cold water! The river is nearly a half mile wide, the current runs so rapidly that it breaks into white water and it sweeps the ponies down stream so rapidly that it seems impossible for their strength to endure till they can reach the opposite shore. In the midstream the water swept over their backs so that only their noses and ears were above the water. When the last ones were half way over we followed in the boat, five of us in number, and were swept rather than rowed in a diagonal line down stream. When the ponies reached the opposite bank they rolled in the sand, shook themselves dry and cut capers as if they were yet colts wild and free in their mountain pastures with no experience of curb and strap. Each day revealed some new accomplishment of these hardy beasts and this day my admiration surpassed all previous experiences.