supplies from Tucson to the military posts and mining camps of
southeastern Arizona. Apparently he was a stubborn man, else he would
have forsaken this vocation early in the game.

At Ash Springs near the New Mexican boundary a wagon-train with which
he was working went to camp one hot summer's day. They had been warned
against the place by some one who had seen Apaches lurking in the
vicinity; but the animals needed water and feed, and the wagon-master
took a chance. Bronco Mitchel, who was young then, and a foreigner who
was cooking for the outfit were placed on sentry duty while the mules
were grazing.

The heat of the early afternoon got the best of Bronco Mitchel as he
sat on the hillside with his back against a live-oak tree; and after
several struggles to keep awake, he finally dropped off. How long he
had been sleeping he never was able to tell, but a shot awakened him.

He opened his eyes in time to see the whole place swarming with
Apaches. The cook lay dead a little way from him. The rest of his
companions were making a desperate fight for their lives; and a
half-dozen of the Indians, who had evidently just caught sight of him,
were heading for him. There was one thing to do, and no time to lose
about it. He ran as he had never run before, and after a night and day
of wandering was picked up, all but dead, by a squad of scouting
cavalry.

One evening two or three years later Bronco Mitchel was freighting
down near the border, and he made his camp at the mouth of Bisbee
canyon. The mules were grazing near by, and he was lying in his
blankets under the trail-wagon, with a mongrel puppy, which he
carried along for company, beside him.

Just as he was dropping off to sleep the puppy growled. Being now
somewhat experienced in the ways of the Territory, Bronco Mitchel
immediately clasped his hands over the little fellow's muzzle and held
him there, mute and struggling.

He had hardly done this when the thud of hoofs came to his ears; and a
band of Apaches appeared in the half-light passing his wagon. There
was a company of soldiers in camp within a mile or two, and the
savages were in a hurry; wherefore they had contented themselves with
stealing the mules and forbore from searching for the teamster, who
lay there choking the puppy as they drove the plundered stock within
three yards of him.

Now it so happened that Bronco Mitchel's team included a white mare,
who was belled; for mules will follow a white