246 MULE-HUNTING EXPEDITION. 
be crossed, the trailis 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 1st.—I camp ona 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.’ 
xs 
