Mule Skinners. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
It is a long time since I have had leisure to air myself 
in your columns, so here goes. The other day I went 
a-fishingj and the yarn I am about to spin arose out of 
that fact and is another story entirely. Later on I may 
tell about my trip; but this has nothing to with either fish- 
ing or hunting, but is just a reminiscence oi early Cali- 
fornia days, and has no just and reasonable excuse for ap- 
pearing in your columns save that it is a good story — if I 
can tell it properly. On my trip I met with an old pio- 
neer who was as full of good stories of early days in this 
State as a boy's pockets are full of all kinds of odds and 
ends, and his stories were just as oddly mixed. Among 
the rest came the following: 
r. 
In the early sixties I drove an eight-mule team from 
Marysville to Grass Valley and Nevada City with loads 
of farm produce for the use of the mines. It consisted 
chiefly of barley, wheat and hay. When at the Marys- 
ville_ end of the route I made my home at a ranch just 
outside of the town — because I could make up my loads 
from its stacks and granaries— for six months in the year. 
The owner of the ranch had a son of about my own age, 
and we were great friends. His name was Polk, and he 
was a mule skinner like myself for six months in tlie 
year. 
We had just completed a trip to Nevada City, and I was 
laying out to have some fun for three or four days, when 
Polk came to nie and said: "Joe, I can't go to town with 
you to-night, as the old man has made me promise to go 
to camp-meeting with the rest of the family. You know 
he is a great Methodist, and is keen for me to get religion 
with the rest of the family." Well, this cut me out of 
my companion, and I thought I might as well go to the 
meeting also and try and put in my time there sparking 
some of the 'girls. The family got Polk up front on the 
mourners' benches. Now, the fact was that Polk needed 
religion, if anyone ever did. I am no slouch at swearing 
myself, but he could give me cards and spades at the 
game and then beat me so badly that I was ashamed to 
,play. 
Three nights passed with Polk still on the "anxious 
seat," and I was getting weary of the fun, although I was 
making things lively for some of the girls on the out- 
skirts of the meeting, and when we were going to bed 
that night I said, "For the good Lord's sake, Polk, let up 
on this foolishness and let us have a night in town to- 
gether, as we have to start again the day after to-mor- 
row r "No, Joe," said he ; "I've promised the old man to 
stick to him through this meeting, but to-morrow night 
lets me out." 
But the last night was a "hot one," and they got Polk 
excited, and soon he was jumping up and down with the 
rest, and shouting "Glory" with the arms of the weeping 
family around his neck, all yelling in sympathy. 
. The next morning we struck out on the i-oad, and we 
had not gone but a few miles till Polk's mules found out 
that there was something wrong. Polk was ahead, and was 
full of his new religious fervor, to which he was giving 
vent by singing some of the camp-meeting songs which 
had lodged in his head from their frequent repetition dur- 
ing the past four days. He had informed me that he 
fully intended to live up to his profession of faith, and 
that he had given up swearing, with many of his other 
sins. As he was a straightforward fellow, and no hypo- 
crite, I knew he intended to do just what he said he was 
going to do. We got along all right until we struck the 
foothills, and then the mules began to soldier on him. I 
knew they would do it, and was anxious to see how he 
would manage them without swearing. Every time he 
would stop, the team got slower and slower about start- 
ing, and would get down and "squeeze" for a while, with- 
out pulling. _ Polk was getting furiously angry, but still 
controlled himself from swearing; using the lash pretty 
freely, though. 
By the time we had finished that day's journey he 
could hardly get them along at all. The mules had found 
out that they had a "balky" driver to deal with, and they 
were ready to ba'lk themselves. The next morning we 
started out again, and got up as far as the bad hill just 
below Rough and Ready, when his team stopped in the 
middle of the pull. This is an unpardonable sin in a good 
mule team, and called for rigorous treatment. Polk 
argued the case with them for a while, but they would 
only "squeeze" or "swing," both unforgivable offenses in 
the team of a good driver. After about fifteen minutes of 
this, Polk was in a white rage ; he threw his hat down in 
the dust and jumped on it with both feet, wound the 
lash of his "blacksnake" around his hand, and turned 
himself loose. At every stroke on their ribs, he gave vent 
to the most offensive oaths in his unlimited vocabulary, 
and in less than five minutes had the mules pulling their 
eyes out. On our return to the ranch it was our custom 
to swing our wagons up by the side of the granary, and 
as that was situated beyond the stables the mules would 
want to sidle up toward the latter in passing. This would 
call for a vigorous use of the jerk line and some more 
swearing. Polk's father was standing near as his team 
passed, and heard the red-hot language, and called out in 
horror, "Oh, Polk, my son, what's this, what's this?" 
"Blankety blank it, father, if you want me to keep religion 
you've got to get a new driver, that's all !" 
n. 
In those days [continued my acquaintance] the driver of 
the twelve-mule team was the autocrat of the road, and 
was even a greater man than the stage driver; and the 
latter was supposed by the traveling public to own the 
State. 
_ In those ante-railroad days the roads to the mines were 
lined with these teams, and the roadside hostleries were de- 
pendent upon the good will of the kings of the road for 
their existence. If they passed the word along the line 
that such a house was "no good," the poor devil of a 
hotel keeper could stand in his door all day long and 
watch the procession passing by, without ever a man 
stopping. In consequence, the driver always had the 
best the market afforded, and his hai:ghty airs were not 
only tolerated but cheerfidly and smilingly accepted as a 
matter of course. The tables were spread with the most 
tempting fare that it was possible to procure, and the 
FOMST AND STREAM. 
waiters were the prettiest girls that could be hired. A 
fine twelve-mule team, with a good driver, was really a 
fine sight. The mules would be as perfectly matched as 
possible, the housings of the harness were of the finest 
bear skin, an arch of bells crossed the back of each mule 
and one -of the wheelers carried the haughty autocrat of 
the road — the driver. 
Tom Black was the best driver on that grade, and it was 
his boast that he could haul a hundred pounds more 
freight to the mule than any other man in that part of the 
State. Pie had a fine lot of animals, of which he took 
the best of care, and which he handled with the skill of an 
old expert. He once won a gold medal in Marysville by 
controlling his team with his voice and making each in- 
dividual mule get down into his collar and pull for all 
that was in him, on being addressed by name, the others 
standing quietly in their tracks. 
The chief wayside inn in the little mining town of 
Rough and Ready had just got a new waitress, freshly 
arrived from the East, and new to the ways of the Golden 
State. Her name was Annie, and she was good to look 
upon, being a fine, healthy girl, with snapping black eyes ; 
and the first time Black saw her he surrendered without a 
struggle, a victim to her bow and spear. The fellow was 
as ju.stly celebrated for his picturesque profanity as for 
his skill as a driver, and being promptly rebuked for his 
first oath in her presence, he meekly accepted it, and 
henceforth, when in her vicinity, was as "meachin as a 
hound pup." 
Black's open and confessed admiration and his reputa- 
tion as a first-class driver and good fellow had caused 
Annie to "take notice" a little ; and one evil day she asked 
her employer's wife if she would not accompany her down 
the grade for a mile or two, as Black was expected that 
night, and she had heard so much about his fine driving 
that she wanted to see him bring his team up to town over 
the last mile of the waj^ which was very steep, and called 
for as good work as any part of the i-oad. Her mistress 
agreed, and said they would take a horse and buggy and 
drive down, and when they were tired of the sport they 
could hurry back. The early rains had laid the dust, and 
they drove gaily down the caiion till they met Tom, when 
they pulled out and let him pass. He doffed his hat, as a 
gentlemen should, and stopped his team to inquire where 
they were going, and on learning their errand became a 
proud and honored man. But, alas ! pride goes before a 
fall! 
He helped the ladies turn their buggy around, and 
started his team by word, when all was ready, and walked 
along on Annie's side of the carriage in a dream of bliss, 
utterly oblivious as to whether there was a mule team 
in the same county. The team at once found out that their 
driver had "balked," and at once began to look for a 
chance to balk themselves. They made two or three stops 
on their own account, without being told, which is 
directly contrary to the ethics of good driving, and started 
slowly, with much "squeezing" and "swinging." And 
still poor Tom was unheeding of his approaching down- 
fall ! 
In the middle of the steepest part of the grade a dyke 
of trap rock cut diagonally across the soft slate bedrock, 
and the teams had made a gouge on each side of it, where 
the wheels would pitch off from the hard to the softer 
rock. Tom's mules reached this point, and slowly pulled 
wheel after wheel over the obstruction, till the last one. 
This one settled slowly into the gouge, the chock-block 
dropped snugly in behind it— and the team stopped. 
Tom took in the situation at a glance, and was rudely 
awakened from his dream of bliss. He walked forward 
and argued quietly with his team and explained the matter 
to them in forcible tones, and at the end of his whiplash, 
but without effect. There was still something want- 
ing, and the mules knew it, and refused to pull with all 
their force. Other teams began to come up behind, and 
were forced to stop. The matter was getting serious, for 
he felt that his reputation was at stake, and that he Was 
becoming a laughing stock to the other teamsters. He 
finally came back to the carriage, with his hat in one hand, 
and scratching his head with the other, and after a hesi- 
tating pause, said: 
"Ladies, won't you please turn out and drive on home?" 
"Why, Mr. Black, we came down to see you drive up 
the grade, and we are enjoying ourselves ever so much." 
"That's all right, but haven't you seen enough? I'd like 
to have you drive on." 
"But we don't want to go yet ; we want to see you take 
them to the top of the hill. Why do you want us to go ?" 
"Well, the fact is, the team is stuck, and they won't pull 
unless I swear at them, and I don't want to do that in 
your hearing." 
"Oh, go right ahead, Mr. Black, and swear all you want 
to. We_ won't mind it for once." 
"But it'll be mighty rough swearing, and I'd rather you 
did not hear it." 
Annie spoke up and said: "Never mind us, Tom; we 
want to hear a driver swear at his team once, and I do so 
want to see you make them pull the load out of that bad 
place." 
Tom, thinking that everything was now satisfactory, 
swung his hat on his head with the confidence of an ex- 
perienced general, wound the lash of his blacksnake 
around his hand and sailed in with tongue and hand. 
"Ha, there, Suze, you misbehaved daughter of an un- 
chaste mother — whack — I'll teach you — whack — to stop in 
the middle — whack — of this blankenty blank hill— whack !" 
You see, he began mild and easy, but soon warmed up 
to his work, and in a moment had forgotten that there was 
a woman within a thousand miles of the place. The air 
became sultry with the most horrible and blood-curdling 
oaths and vulgar objurgations. Taking each mule in 
turn, he cursed it up one side and down the other; he 
traduced the memory of their parents, and reviled them- 
selves in language too vulgar to be heard at a cock fight. 
And all this time he was applying the butt of his whip to 
their ribs with such force that his blows resounded from 
the canon's walls. After he had conscientiously and im- 
partially cursed and beaten every mule in the team, he bade 
them get down and pull, and presto! away they walked 
with the load, as if they were on level ground. 
When the team started off the ladies, with flaming 
cheeks, were busy viewing the landscape down the carion 
and never saw it. 
And alas, black-eyed Annie never again looked on poor 
Tptp but with averted face I 
ICS 
About a month afterward he remarked to me, "Say, 
Joe, I wonder what ails Annie? She won't speak to rhe 
any more, or even look at me. I don't know any reason 
for her acting so; I've always treated her white!" 
Arefar. 
AunuRN, Cat ' 
Pioneer Days.— X. 
Dalrymple, the Scotit. 
BY ROWLAND E. ROBINSON. 
In those summer days Ticonderoga's ceaseless chime 
of rapids and waterfall was overborne by the sounds of 
saw, axe and hammer, and the shouts of teamsters. 
Every energy was stramed for the completion of ves.sels 
to oppose the British naval force, concerning whose com- 
ing continual alarming rumors came from the northward. 
Gondola and galley were finished while the wood yet ex- 
haled the breath of the forest and mingled their sweating 
sap with the waters of the lake, and the lopped bough was 
scarcely withered before its place was taken by tapering 
yard and swelling sail. 
Seamen then came drifting inland — rough old seadogs 
who had been burned by the tropical suns and salted in all 
the seas, profanely contemptuous of such craft and the 
tame water that floated them, and looking upon this 
service as a sort of paid holiday. Arnold's masterful 
personality dominated and held in check these half- 
mutinous crews, as it directed all the operations of con- 
struction and preparation. 
One day as Josiah was idly watching the vessels getting 
guns and ammunition on board and making ready for 
speedy departure, a hand was laid familiarly on his 
shoulder, and turning at the touch, he was surprised by 
the weather-beaten face of his old comrade, Kenelm Dal- 
rymple, smiling up at him with more than the gladness of 
friendship at the meeting. 
"Wal, boy, you're jest the one I was a-wantin', an' yet 
not expectin' tu find, for I didn't know you was in these 
parts. They're a-sendin' me off as a scaout tu see what 
them Britishers is up tu, an' haow many water craft they 
muster. I telled aour General, or Commodore Arnil, I do* 
know which he is, 'at Josier Hill was the man I wanted 
for my comrade, an' Colonel Warner cal'lated you was 
somewheres 'raound. though he hedn't see'd ye sen your 
'listment run aout. Come along where they be, an' they'll 
give us marchin' orders tu rights." 
Kenelm's anticipations were at once realized, and the 
afternoon was not spent before he and his comrade were 
embarked in a birch canoe and briskly plying their paddles 
down the lake. At dark they encamped awhile for supper 
and rest at the mouth of Otter Creek, a much-used halting 
place for warriors and hunters from time immemorial. 
The night being clear and moonlit, they soon resumed 
their voyage, as it was important that they should get the 
desired information as early as possible. 
As they were about to step into the Canoe, Josiah' s 
quick ear caught the sound of a suppressed human voice, 
and stealing across to the rocky cedar-grown shore, and 
peering cautiously through the branches, he saw a canoe 
approaching, occupied by two men. He crept back to his 
comrade, communicated his discovery, and the two 
secreted themselv.es at a point where the canoe would 
probably land, or certainly pass very near. This it did in 
a moment, and the two arising into full view, with 
rifles cocked and covering the canoemen with deadly 
aim, Kenelm called, "Come ashore and sitrrender !" 
There was a moment of silent surprise and suspended 
paddling, then a sullen grunt, and the prow was turned 
shoreward , and with one sweep of the paddles the canoe 
lightly touched the shore. The two Indians stepped out 
under cover of Kenelm's rifle, and Josiah bound their 
hands behind them. 
"Waubanakee ?" Kenelm asked. 
"Euhhonh," one answered, laconically, and Kenelm, 
knowing something of the language, asked how many 
English vessels there were. "Fifty," was the answer. 
"And more men than I can count." 
"That's a lie, tu begin with," Kenelm commented in 
English. "We sha'n't get nothin' aout o' these chaps, an' 
might as well Icnock 'em in the head an' go 'long." But 
Josiah was not yet educated up to this summary method of 
disposing of prisoners, and they compromised on binding 
them and leaving them here until their own r.eturn, which, 
if all was well, would not be long delayed. 
The prisoners followed them with sullen eyes until they 
disappeared in the dim light. 
At daybreak the scouts were far down the lake. Land- 
ing on a rocky point, Josiah climbed a tall tree, from which 
he discovered the sails of the advancing British fleet — the 
white sails slowly rising like clouds above the blue line of 
the horizon, then the black hulls like islands suddenly 
born of the lake. He could make out the great leviathan 
of a rideau, or floating battery, creeping nearer with sweep 
and sail. 
"Sir Guy Carlton's the head o' the hul consarn, so they 
say," Kenelm remarked, as they watched the advancing 
fleet, "an' I da' say the' 's a dozen Sir Somebodies aboard 
o' them vessels. They're thicker 'n mosquitoes in a 
swamp over in the ol' country. Say, Josi, did ye know 't 
I jest missed a-bein' one on 'em?" he asked suddenly, 
breaking a silence of abstracted musing. 
"You !" Josiah ejaculated incredulously, staring at the 
roughly clad, weather-beaten little man, but the brown 
face was quite serious, except for a twinkle of amusement 
in the eyes. 
"Odd, haiii't it? But true as nigh as I can cal'late." 
"I sh'd think you'd orter know for sartin' whether 'r 
no it is or hain't," Josiah remarked. 
"But I don't — not sartin," the old ranger answered. 
"I'll tell ye all I du know when we get afloat." And 
when they had resumed their paddles he began his story. 
"The fust thing I remember was a-bein' tossed in a 
ship, I s'pose it was, a'most forever on no end o' water, an' 
comin' at last tu haousen an' folks on land; an' then o* 
goin' ag'in on smoother water a long ways wi woods, 
woods on ary side, till bimeby I waked up one mornin' 
'mongst odd-lookin' men, feathered an' painted, an' as 
odd-lookin' red women in blankets o' blue an' red. I was 
mighty feared on 'em all at fust, but got used tu 'em arter 
a spell, an' tu not !5eein' .sca'eely a white fa>ce, but one 
