" We had contributed our share, including the gooseberry
can. From the labels we noticed on the can windrow along the road
it seemed that peaches and Boston baked beans were the favorite
things consumed by the overland travellers, though there were a
great many green-corn, tomato, and salmon cans.
"You can get every article of food in tin cans now," observed
Jack one day, "except my pancakes. I'm going to start a pancake
cannery. I'll label my cans 'Jack's Celebrated Rattletrap
Pancakes--Warranted Free from Injurious Substances. Open this
end. Soak two weeks before using.'"
It was a pretty camping-place on the little can-covered fiat,
and we sat up late, visiting with our neighbors and talking about
the Black Hills.
"I think," said Jack, as we stumbled over the cans on our way
to the Rattletrap, "that I'll go into the mining business up
there myself. I'll just back the Blacksmith's Pet up to the side
of a mountain, tickle his heels with a straw, and he'll have a
gold-mine kicked out inside of five minutes."
IX: OFF FOR THE BLACK HILLS
The next day was Sunday, so we did not leave the White River
camp till Monday morning.
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