Unless he is in training, he will find it
a heavy burden long before he is half-way. Suppose, instead of a
flour sack, the burden has sharp angles; the bearer is soon in
torture. Suppose the weight carried be double; then the strain
is far more than doubled. Suppose, finally, the road be not a
quarter mile but a mile, and not on level but through swamps,
over rocks, logs, and roots, and the weather not cool, but
suffocating summer weather in the woods, with mosquitoes boring
into every exposed part, while both hands are occupied, steadying
the burden or holding on to branches for help up steep places --
and then he will have some idea of the horror of the portage; and
there were many of these, each one calling for six loaded and
five light trips for each canoe-man. What wonder that men will
often take chances in some fierce rapid, rather than to make a
long carry through the fly-infested woods.
It was weighty evidence of Bill's fidelity that again and again
they made a portage around rapids he had often run, because in
the present case he was in sacred trust of that much prized
commodity -- fur.
Eighty miles they called it from Warren's to Albany, but there
were many halts and carries which meant long delay, and a whole
week was covered before Bill and Rolf had passed the settlements
of Glens Falls, Fort Edward, and Schuylerville, and guided their
heavily laden canoe on the tranquil river, past the little town
of Troy.
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