The Mate of the Vancouver — page 144: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

™~ THE MATE OF THE VANCOUVER. 1382 feed, a few tussocks of withering frost-nipped _ bunch grass, which he ate greedily to the last - @ roots his sharp teeth could reach. And then 7 he pawed or “ristled” for more, using his hoof to bare wh:. ax hidden under the snow. But for that we should have left him on the trail next morning. : The toil and suffering of the third day’s march were dreadful, for I grew footsore, and | my feet bled at the heels, while the skin rose | Ee in blisters on every toe, which rapidly be- ¢ TURE? NE TOT eee aR w= ge eee RISE AE LPT ey PRE AR a “x 7 OT ae a ORT SEA? SORE ot SE Pe ae. ‘ came raw. But Mac was a man of iron, and - . never faltered or grew tired; and his ex- : ample, and a feeling of shame at being out- done by another, kept me doggedly behind _- him at a few paces’ distance. How the pony i stood that day was a miracle, for he must have been made of iron and not flesh and blood to carry his pack, while climbing up and sliding down the steep ascents and slopes . of the hills, while every few yards some -wind-felled tree had to be clambered over