A cold cloud cover obscured Mount Cascade. It was rather early for winter to be rolling in, yet Jed could smell snow in the air. What a contrast to Panama and Hawaii. Still, it felt good to sit tall in the saddle once again. The squeak of leather in harmony with hoofbeats was sweet music to his ears.

He turned about inside the oversized sheepskin coat he had borrowed along with a string of six —three for riding, three for packing a Justowriter, radio, generator and camp outfit— to see how Jenny was doing. She gave him a quick wave before blue tipped fingers disappeared into the warmth of an old mackinaw jacket. What a poised horsewoman she had become since they had met. Even on one of Uncle Only's ornery orangutans, as Jed liked to class the pampered, mounts they had borrowed, Jenny was confident enough to hang up the reins on a saddle horn and enjoy the still, foggy, morning scenery. A lot of people were only comfortable riding their own personal equine. It took a natural to switch from Big Enough, to a Panamanian Paso Fino, to a Mount Cascade mule.

Jed had never liked mules. He considered the braying "mountain canaries" the missing link between pigs and horses. He and Uncle Only had spent many an evening arguing pro's and con's of the cross between a male jackass and female horse. Jed claimed their conception made them naturally cross, and that a narrow, sharp hoof was useless on snow and ice.

Uncle Only had made the points, while he was driving the outfit around to the other side of Mount Cascade -the four of them squashed into the beat-up cab of an ex-beer delivery truck- that mules were smart, didn't steal oats, and besides, "they was his." Jed was forced to pay the cost of borrowing —the string wasn't for rent at any price— by admitting that hennies, a reverse crossbreed of stud horse, and large jenny -no pun intended he assured his chuckling future father-in-law— were about the finest riding animal that ever lived.

Now, on the second day of sneaking in the back door to Avalanche Glacier, Jed looked farther back along the procession to watch the Colonel bringing up the rear, with difficulty. Perhaps Jed's admission about hennies was unwarranted. But then again, Hap admitted he didn't care to operate any vehicle that had ears. He had ridden forty miles fully prepared for the henny to have a hissy fit.

It hadn't happened, nor had they run into any Forest Service personnel who would have asked pointed questions as to what they thought they were doing packing a gasoline operated generator into an official Wilderness Area.