Finally, the mule got away from the old man and went tearing down into the cañon; he overtook and passed the balance of the pack-train, stampeded them almost beyond control of the packers, and knocked the poor hogs against trees and brush until they were almost dead. He ran nearly six miles, and being unable to get rid of his pack, fell exhausted and lay there until the men came up and took charge of him. The old man accused Johnston of cutting the muzzles off the hogs, but he and his partner both denied it, said they certainly must have slipped off, and they finally convinced him that that was the way the trouble came about.
[Illustration: THE BUCKER AND THE BUSTER.]
This, with sundry other recitals of an equally interesting nature, caused the evening to pass pleasantly, and at a late hour we turned into our bunks. We were up and moving long before daylight the next morning, and as soon as we could see the trail hooked up the team and attempted to go, but, alas for our hopes of an early start, one of the horses refused to pull at the very outset--in short, he balked and no mule ever balked worse. Johnston plied the buckskin until the horse refused to stand it any longer and began to rear and to throw himself on the tongue, back in the harness, etc. Johnston got off the wagon, went to the animal's head and tried to lead it, but the brute would not be led any more than it would be driven, and commenced rearing and striking at its master as if trying to kill him. This aroused the ire of the ranchman and he picked up a piece of a board, about four inches wide and three feet long, and fanned the vicious critter right vigorously. I took a hand in the game, at Johnston's request, and warmed the cayuse's latter half to the best of my ability with a green hemlock gad. He bucked and backed, reared and ranted, pawed, pitched, plunged and pranced, charged, cavorted and kicked, until it seemed that he would surely make shreds of the harness and kindling wood of the wagon; but the whole outfit staid with him, including Johnston and myself.
We wore out his powers of endurance if not his hide, and he finally got down to business, took the load up the hill and home to the ranch, without manifesting any further inclination to strike. We reached the ranch about nine o'clock at night, and the next day Johnston drove me into Spokane Falls, where, in due time, I caught the train for home.