"We never can do it," said another wagon-master. "It's too steep. The
wagons will run over the mules."
"Oh, no," I said. "The mules will have to keep out of the way."
I instructed Wilson, the chief wagon-master, to bring up his
mess-wagon. He drove the wagon to the brink of the bluff. Following my
directions, he brought out extra chains with which we locked both
wheels on each side, and then rough-locked them.
This done, we started the wagons down the hill. The wheel-horses, or
rather the wheel-mules, were good on the hold back, and we got along
beautifully till the wagon had nearly reached the bottom of the
declivity. Then the wagon crowded the mules so hard that they started
on the run and came galloping down into the valley to the spot General
Carr had selected for his camp. There was not the slightest accident.
Three other wagons followed in the same way. In half an hour every
wagon was in the camp. It was an exciting sight to see the six-mule
teams come almost straight down the mountainside and finally break into
a run. At times it seemed certain that the wagon must turn a somersault
and land on the mules, but nothing of the kind happened.
Our march proved be a lucky one so far as gaining on Penrose was
concerned. The route he had taken on the west side of the stream was
rough and bad, and with our great wagon-train we made as many miles in
one day as he had in seven.
Pages:
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168