212 
CAVE AND CLIFF DWELLERS. 
back, I was always frightened when he 
approached a cliff on the unabridged side, 
and instinctively leaned in to counterpoise 
the heavy weight that I thought might 
drag us over the precipice. He was 
familiarly known by the party as “ Old 
Steamboat,” “ Old Lumber Yard,” and 
other names indicating these character¬ 
istics ; but he was large and so was I, and 
he fell to my lot. When I first saw his 
abbreviated auricular appendage, as a 
member of the “ Society for the Preven¬ 
tion of Cruelty to Mules,” I felt incensed 
upon hearing that it had been lost by the 
cut of a whip in the hands of a previous 
driver; but before we had been ac¬ 
quainted a week I had transferred all my 
sympathy from the mule to the man, 
whoever he may have been. On the 
level ground this mule was slower than 
