246 MULE-HUNTING EXPEDITION. 



be crossed, the trail is bad, if any ; and altogether 

 the prospect is anything but cheering. I have, 

 however, made up my mind to go. 



The annoyances of a start got over wild 

 mules reduced to a state of discipline, packs 

 adjusted, and men as sober as could reasonably 

 be expected all went pleasant as a marriage- 

 bell until the second day, when my first mis- 

 fortune happened. 



May \st. I camp on a beautiful bit of ground, 

 with grass in abundance, and a stream, clear as 

 crystal and cold as ice, rippling past close to 

 my fire. I place a guard over my mules, 

 fearing accidents; and choosing as level a spot 

 as I can see, roll myself in my blanket, and 

 with my head in my saddle soon slept. 



I awoke at sun-up, lit my pipe, and wandered 

 off to see what had become of my mules. I 

 found the trusty guard sound asleep, coiled up 

 under a tree, but not a mule. A sharp admo- 

 nition, administered through the medium of my 

 foot, soon dispelled his dreams, and awoke him to 

 a lively sense of reality. He rapidly uncoiled, 

 started up, stared vacantly around, and thus re- 

 lieved his feelings : 



' I guess they're gone, Cap'en, every tarnation 

 coon of 'em, right slick back to the Bluffs.' 



