The Mistress of Bonaventure by Harold Bindloss

Leyland had a weakness for what he termed hardening himself by occasional feats of endurance, from which it resulted that I spent several days in his company wandering, with a wholly unnecessary load of camp gear upon my back, through a desolation of uncomfortably wooded hills. Now it is not easy for a business man of domesticated habits to emulate a pack mule and enjoy the proceeding, and when Mrs. Leyland, after burdening her husband with everything she could think of, desired to add a small tin bath, there was little difficulty in predicting that our journey would not be extensive. Having a load of fifty pounds already, I ignored the suggestion that I might carry the bath, and hurried Leyland off before his spouse could further hamper us. One thick blanket, a kettle, and a few pounds of provisions would have amply sufficed, so a large-sized tent seemed to be distinctly superfluous, to say nothing of the bag filled with hair-brushes, towels, and scented soap.

Leyland commenced the march with enthusiasm, and certainly presented a picturesque appearance as he plodded along in leather jacket and fringed leggings, with the folded tent upon his shoulders and a collection of tin utensils jingling about him. I was somewhat similarly caparisoned, and, because it would have hurt his feelings, I overcame the temptation to fling half my load into a creek we crossed, though this would have greatly pleased me. A fourth of the weight would have sufficed for a two-hundred-mile journey in the West.