en their
raptured sight. The last one of 'em, panniers, freight an' all, would go
surgin' to the topmost pinnacle of the Rockies if she leads the way.

"An' at that this gray mare don't like mules none; she abhors their
company an' kicks an' abooses 'em to a standstill whenever they draws
near. But the fool mules don't care; it's ecstacy to simply know she's
livin' an' that mule's cup of joy is runnin' over who finds himse'f
permitted to crop grass within forty foot of his old, gray bell-bedecked
idol.

"We travels all day, followin' glimpsin' that flea-bitten cayouse at
Tramperos. But the mules can't think or talk of nothin' else. It
arouses their religious enthoosiasm to highest pitch; even the cynic
Jerry gets half-way keyed up over it. I looks for trouble that night;
an' partic'lar I pegs out Jerry plenty deep and strong. The rest is
hobbled, all except Tom. Gray mare or not, I'll gamble the outfit Tom
wouldn't abandon Jerry, let the indoocement be ever so alloorin'.

"Every well-organised mule team that a-way allers carries along a bronco.
This little steed, saddled an' bridled, trots throughout the day by the
side of the off-wheeler, his bridle-rein caught over the wheeler's hame.
The bronco is used to round up the mules in event they strays or declines
in the mornin' to come when called. Sech bein' the idee, the cayous is
allers kept strictly in camp.

"'James' is my bronco's name; an' the evenin', followin' the vision of
that Tramperos gray mare I makes onusual shore 'that James stays with me.
Not that gray mares impresses James--him bein' a boss an' bosses havin'
religious convictions different from mules--or is doo to prove
temptations to him; but he might conceal other plans an' get strayed
prosecootin' of 'em to a finish. I ties James to the trail-waggon, an'
followin' bacon, biscuits, airtights an' sech, the same bein' my froogal
fare when on the trail, I rolls in onder the lead-waggon 'an' gives
myse'f up to sleep.

"Exactly as I surmises, when I turns out at sun-up thar's never a mule in
sight. Every one of them idolaters goes poundin' back, as fast as ever
he can with hobbles on, to confess his sins an' say his pray'rs at the
shrine of that old gray mare. Even Jerry, whose cynicism should have
saved him, pulls his picket-pin with the rest an', takin' Tom along, goes
curvin' off. It ain't more than ten minutes, you can gamble! when James
an' me is on their trails.

"One by one, I overta