We stopped at one o'clock and had a cold lunch , sitting in our wagon , while Peter Crow wakened up and watered the ponies . We did not get on so well in the afternoon . The trail descended into low-lying ground where travelling was very difficult . I had to admit old Peter Crow was quite invaluable . He knew , as Kate had foretold , `` all the dry spots '' -- that is to say , spots less wet than others . But , even so , we had to make so many detours that by sunset we were little more than six miles distant from our noon halting place . `` We 'd better set camp now , before it gets any darker , '' said Kate . `` There 's a capital spot over there , by that bluff of dead poplar . The ground seems pretty dry too . Peter , cut us a set of tent poles and kindle a fire . '' `` Want my dollar first , '' said old Peter stolidly . We had agreed to pay him a dollar a day for the trip , but none of the money was to be paid until we got to Bothwell . Kate told him this . But all the reply she got was a stolid , `` Want dollar . No make fire without dollar . '' We were getting cold and it was getting dark , so finally Kate , under the law of necessity , paid him his dollar . Then he carried out our orders at his own sweet leisure . In course of time he got a fire lighted , and while we cooked supper he set up the tent and prepared our beds , by cutting piles of brush and covering them with rugs . Kate and I had a hilarious time cooking that supper . It was my first experience of camping out and , as I had become pretty well convinced that Peter Crow was not the typical Indian of old romance , I enjoyed it all hugely .
But we were both very tired , and as soon as we had finished eating we betook ourselves to our tent and found our brush beds much more comfortable XXXXX I had expected .
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