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Updated: June 4, 2025
I saw a packer deal with a collected order, and in this order were a number of tiny cookery utensils, a four-cent curling-iron, a brush, and two incredibly ugly pink china mugs, inscribed in cheap gilt respectively with the words "Father" and "Mother." Throughout my stay in America no moment came to me more dramatically than this moment, and none has remained more vividly in my mind.
In case he had not done the latter, she felt it her duty to make the matter clear to him. "I suppose that is Ida in the canoe," she said. "It seems quite likely," replied her companion. "It couldn't have been your daughter, because she went along the beach not long ago with the major, and I don't think there's another young lady in the vicinity." "Then the other must be the packer."
Ned and Nugget felt the need of a little rest. After breakfast Jonas Packer returned, bringing quite a respectable paddle on which he had been working since daybreak, and a broad brimmed straw hat, which Nugget regarded as a very poor substitute for his trim yachting cap. Harvest work required the good natured farmer's immediate return.
He tore it open finally and glanced at the words. For just a moment the flame of appreciation sprang up within him. The note was from Faith Marvin, the new packer whom he had employed. She was "sorry for him," she said, "in this hour of his affliction." He laid it down with a sigh that ended in a groan. His brow darkened as he looked at it. He was aroused and puzzled.
Hours later they were still awake, the packer in his bunk, Paul in his blankets by the winking brands. The pines were moving, and in pauses of the wind they could hear the incessant soft crowding of the snow. "When they find us here in the spring," said the packer humbly, "it won't matter much which on us was 'Mister' and which was 'John." "Are you thinking of that!"
She may have fooled you, Packer, or perhaps perhaps" he paused, frowning "perhaps you were trying to fool me, too. I don't know your private life; you may have reasons to help her de " "Mr. Potter!" cried the distressed man. "What could be my object? I don't know Miss Lyston off. I was only telling you the simple truth." "How do I know?" Potter gave him a piercing look.
A man named Hughes, of whom you will see much in this narrative, accompanied and assisted Uncle Kit on this trip, as he had done the season before, for besides his experience as a packer, he was a good trapper, and Uncle Kit employed him. It was on the morning of May 3, 1847, that we rounded up the horses and Uncle Kit and Mr. Hughes began packing them.
Colonel Darke and a few officers placed themselves at the head of the column, the coolest and boldest men drew up behind them, and they fell on the Indians with such fury as to force them back well beyond the road. This made an opening through which, said Van Cleve the packer, the rest of the troops "pressed like a drove of bullocks."
They were the usual type of travelers: a single professional man in dusty black, a few traders in tweeds and flannels, a sprinkling of miners in red and gray shirts, a Chinaman, a negro, and a Mexican packer or muleteer.
"By the way, one of the packers told me that the man who's coming up to run the plant Carsley, isn't it? has arrived. There were some fittings or something wrong and he stopped behind to investigate, but the packer seemed to think he'd get through soon after I did. That turns us loose, doesn't it?" "I dare say I could hand things over to him in about a week," replied Lisle. "Then we'll clear out.
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