Lem rounded a fallen hemlock, tugging at the halter of the reluctant pony, who, heavily laden with hampers, tinware and sundries, sidled this way and that at the obstructions which culminated at the end of the new trail. He lunged back from the long table, and rolling his eyes, came to an immovable standstill. Mose laid down his ax and walked over to the pony, "Saprie, it ees not’ing to tek dese t’ings ’cross." And he waved his hand with pardonable pride towards a small pavilion roofed in fir boughs. "Guess we’ll hev ter," answered Lem, surveying the scene with evident satisfaction. "This here no ’count cayuse knows he ain’t erlowed in nobody’s front room. No, sir, ther ain’t no use tryin’ ter make him budge." And he lifted his bare foot and gave the horse a resentful thrust, which was received with a slight flinching of the flanks, and increased exhibition of the whites of his eyes. "Hams?" enquired Mose, inhaling a deep breath while he unbuckled the straps of a hamper. "You bet," answered Lem. "Hams and chickuns. Ole Mother Girard cooked ’em." "De ole madame ees be one good cook, for sure. It ees fine t’ing her Baptiste ees die, an’ dat she ees able sell de ranch, for it ees pos’ble she can stay all tam to de cabane to work for de te’cher." "This here," said Lem, lowering a second hamper to the ground, "is prince-pally cake. An’ you kin jes’ bet ther ain’t never be’n no sech cake in ther hull deestrict. Ther schoolmarm made it herself, an’ it’s full o’ ceetron, an’ raisins; I dunno what all. She gimme this here knife fur takin’ ther seeds out. I’d er done it fur nothin’ but I wa’n’t goin’ ter refuse no sech whittler’s that." He took the knife from his pocket and exhibited the blades. "I ’low it’s ther same one I hed my eye on down ter Yelm Station." "Nawitka," answered Mose, returning the knife after deliberate inspection, "it ees bran’ new. But to me she ees give a’ready one piece gold monies, for dat I ees work on de trail. For dese logs an’ shakes, an’ dese posts dat I ees help Mill T’ornton mek, she ees lak give me one gran’ new gun." "Les see ther gold piece," said Lem. "But no, it ees not here. It ees bury in ver’ good plas to my fader’s gardeen." "I’ll bet you was erfraid Mill er John Phiander’d git it erway from you." Mose flushed under the taunt and began to turn up his denim sleeve. "It ees bes’ you doan’ say dat to me," he said slowly. "I am but ’fraid I lose dat gold monies for it ees be so small. Sacré, I t’ink I doan’ have some trouble to trash dose boys." He doubled his arm, clinching his hand. "Feel dare, Lem Myers, and dare. Since I ees work to dose logs, Laramie, heemself doan’ have so beeg muscle."