by John McElroy
CHAPTER XIV. SI AND THE MULES
ONE DAY'S RICH EXPERIENCE AS COMPANY TEAMSTER.
"I'VE GOT to have a man to drive team for a few days," said the Orderlyof Co. Q of the 200th Ind. one morning at roll-call. "The teamster'ssick and I'm goin' to send him to the hospital to-day."
The Orderly-Sergeant of Co. Q was a wily fellow. All Orderly-Sergeantshave to be. If they are not naturally, they learn it very quickly, orlose the little diamond on their sleeves, if not all their stripes.The man who undertakes to manage 60 or 75 stalwart, high-spirited youngAmericans through all their moods and tenses, and every kind of weather,has to be as wise as a serpent, though not necessarily as harmless asa dove. Therefore, the Orderly-Sergeant didn't tell the boys what ailedthe teamster. The fact was that the heels of the "off=wheeler" caughtthe teamster in the pit of the stomach and doubled him up so badly thathe wouldn't be fit for duty for a week. It was worse than the green-corncolic.
"'Tisn't every man," continued the Orderly, "that's gifted withfust-class talent fur drivin' team. I'd like to find the best man tosteer them animals, an' if there's a real sientifick mule-whacker inthis comp'ny let him speak up an' I'll detail him right off. It'll be asoft thing fur somebody; them mules are daises."
Somehow they didn't all speak at once. The company had only had the teamtwo or three weeks, but the boys were not dull of hearing, and ominoussounds had come to them from the rear of the camp at all hours of thenight--the maddening "Yeehaw-w-w!" of the long-eared brutes, and thefrantic ejaculations of the teamster, spiced with oaths that would havesent a shudder through "our army in Flanders."
HE LET BOTH HEELS FLY 133 ]
So they did not apply for the vacant saddle with that alacrity whichmight have been expected, when so good a chance was offered for asoldier to ride and get his traps carried on a wagon. Whenever aninfantryman threw away such an opportunity it is safe to assume thatthere was some good reason for it.
But the idea of riding for a few days and letting his blisters get wellwas too much for Si Klegg. Besides, he thought if there was any onething he could do better than another it was driving a team. He had beendoing it on his father's farm all his life. It is true, he didn't knowmuch about mules, but he imagined they were a good deal like horses.
"I'm your man!" spoke up Si cheerfully.
"All right," said the Orderly. "Company, Right--Face! Breakranks--March!"
"There ain't any trouble about it!" Si said to Shorty as they walkedback to the tent. "I reckon it's easy enough to manage mules if you goat 'em right. It'll be just fun for me to drive team. And say. Shorty,I'll carry all your traps on my wagon. That'll be a heap better'n totin''em!"
Si gathered up his outfit and started to enter upon his new sphere ofusefulness.
"Shall I take my gun and bay'net along?" he asked the Orderly.
"Guess you'd better; they might come handy!" replied the Orderly, as hethought of the teamster's disastrous encounter with the "off-wheeler."
After Shorty had eaten his breakfast he thought he would go back to thetent and see how Si was getting on. With thoughtful care Si had fedhis mules before appeasing his own appetite, and Shorty found him justwaiting for his coffee to cool a bit.
"Why, them 'ere mules is jist as gentle'n' peaceful-like ez so manykittens. Look at 'em, Shorty!" and Si pointed with a proud and gratifiedair to where the six "daisies" were standing, three on each side of thewagon-pole, with their noses in the feed-box, quietly munching theirmatutinal rations, and whisking their paint-brush tails about in evidentenjoyment.
Indeed, to look at those mules one who was ignorant of the peculiarcharacteristics of the species would not have thought that beneaththose meek exteriors there were hearts filled with the raging firesof total depravity. Shorty thought how it would be, but he didn't sayanything. He was sure that Si would find out about it soon enough.
The brigade to which the 200th Ind. belonged was to march in the rear ofthe long procession that day. This was lucky for Si, as it gave him anhour or two more than he would otherwise have had to get hitched up. Butall the same he thought he would begin early, so as to be on hand withhis team in good time.
"Want any help?" asked Shorty.
"No," said Si; "I can hitch 'em up slick's a whistle. I can't see why somany makes sich a fuss 'bout handlin' mules."
Shorty lighted his cob pipe and sat down on a stump to watch Si. "Kinderthink there'll be a circus!" he said to himself.
Si got up from his coffee and hardtack, and addressed himself to thebusiness of the hour. It proved to be just as much as he could attendto. When Si poured half a bushel of corn into the feed box it wasall very nice, and the animals rubbed their heads against him to giveexpression to their grateful emotions. But when it came to putting onthe harness, that was quite a different thing. The mere touch of a strapwas enough to stimulate into baleful activity all the evil passions ofmule-nature.
"Now, Pete and Jim and Susan, we must git ready to pull out!" said Si tohis charge, in a familiar, soothing tone, preliminary to getting down tobusiness. It was his evident desire to maintain the friendly relationsthat he thought he had already established. At the first rattle of theharness Pete and Susan and the rest, moved by a common impulse, laidback their ears and began to bray, their heels at the same time showingsymptoms of impatience.
"Whoa, there--whoa!" exclaimed Si, in a conciliatory way, as he advancedwith a bridle in his hand toward one of the big wheelers, whose earswere flapping about like the fans of a windmill.
Si imprudently crept up from the rear. A flank movement would havebeen better. As soon as he had got fairly within range the mule winkedviciously, lowered his head, and let fly both heels. Si was a spry boy,and a quick dodge saved him from the fate of his predecessor. One of theheels whizzed past his ear with the speed of a cannon ball, caught hishat, and sent it spinning through the air.
Shorty, who was whittling up a piece of Kentucky twist to recharge hispipe, laughed till he rolled off the stump all in a heap. A few of theother boys had stayed out to see the fun, and were lounging around theoutskirts of the corral. "Go for 'em, Si!" they shouted.
Si was plucky, and again advanced with more caution. This time he wassuccessful, after a spirited engagement, in getting the bridle on. Hethought he would ride him down to the creek for water, and this wouldgive him a chance to get acquainted with him, as it were. He patted theanimal's neck, called him pet names, and gently stroked his stubby mane.Alas, Si didn't know then what an utter waste of material it was to givetaffy to an army mule.
With a quick spring Si vaulted upon the back of the mule. He started offin good shape, waving his hand exultingly to the boys with the air of aGeneral who has just won a great battle.
All at once the animal stopped as suddenly as if he had run against astone wall. He planted his fore feet, throwing his ears back and hishead down. There was a simultaneous rear elevation, with the heels atan upward angle of about 45 degrees. Si went sprawling among thebushes. This performance was greeted with great enthusiasm by the fastincreasing crowd of spectators.
SI WENT SPRAWLING 137 ]
"I oughter have told you that saddle-mule's the worst bucker in theArmy o' the Ohio," said the Quartermaster-Sergeant, who was among theonlookers. "Why, he'd buck off the stripe that runs down his back, ifhe took it into his measly head. He bucked off a chattel mortgage, andthat's the way he come into the army. You can't ride him without usingone of Aunt Jemima's sticking plasters."
"Much obliged for your information. But I will ride him all the same,"said Si, whose temper had risen to the exploding point. "I kin ride himif he ties himself in a double bow-knot."
Si was too much of a farmer boy to give in to anything that walked onfour legs.
He had hung on to the bridle rein, and after addressing a few impressivewords to the obstreperous mule he again leaped upon his back. The muletook a docile turn, his motive having apparently been merely to show Siwhat he could do when he took a notion.
The space at com
mand will not permit us to follow Si through all thedetails of "hitching up" that team. He did finally "git thar, Eli,"after much strategic effort. The mules brayed and kicked a good deal,and Si's wrath was fully aroused before he got through. He becameconvinced that soft words were of no account in such a contest, and heenforced discipline by the judicious use of a big club, together withsuch appropriate language as he could think of. Si hadn't yet learnedto swear with that wonderful and appalling proficiency that was so soonacquired by the army teamsters. In the management of mules profanity wasconsidered an invaluable accessory in times of great emergency.
At last Si climbed into the saddle, as proud as a King. Seizing thelong, single line running to the "leaders"--by which contrivance thearmy team was always guided--he shouted "Git up, thar, Pete! G'langSusan!" and the caravan started. But the unregenerated brutes didn't gofar. Si was gaily cracking his whip, trying to hit a big blue-bottle flythat was perched on the ear of one of the "swing" mules.
As if by a preconcerted plan, the establishment came to a suddenhalt and the mules began to rear and kick and plunge around in utterdisregard of consequences. It didn't take more than a minute for them toget into a hopeless tangle. They were in all conceivable shapes--headsand tails together, crosswise and "every which way," tied up with thestraps of the harness. The air in all directions was full of heels.There was a maddening chorus of discordant braying.
In the course of the scrimmage Si found himself on the ground. Gatheringhimself up, he gazed in utter amazement at the twisted, writhing mass.At this moment a messenger came from the Captain to "hurry up thatteam," and poor Si didn't know what to do. He wished he could only swearlike the old mule drivers. He thought it would make him feel better.There was no one to help him out of his dilemma, as the members of thecompany were all getting ready for the march.
A veteran teamster happened along that way, and took in the situationat a glance. He saw that Si had bit off more than he could chew, andvolunteered his assistance.
"Here, young feller," said he, "lemme show ye how to take the stiffenin'out o' them ere dod-gasted mules!"
Seizing the whip at the small end of the stock he began laying on rightand left with the butt, taking care to keep out of range of the heels.During these persuasive efforts he was shouting at the top of his voicewords that fairly hissed through the air. Si thought he could smell thebrimstone and see the smoke issuing from the old teamster's mouth andnostrils. This is a section of what that experienced mule driver said,as nearly as we can express it:
"_________;;_____________!!!***???!!!! ____???________???!!!!"
Si thanked the veteran for these timely suggestions in the way oflanguage, and said he would remember them. He had no doubt they wouldhelp him out the next time.
They finally got the team untied, and Si drove over to the companyground. The regiment had been gone some time, a detail having been leftto load the wagon. After getting out upon the road the mules ploddedalong without objection, and Si got on famously. But having lost hisplace in the column in consequence of the delay, he was obliged tofall in rear of the division train, and it was noon before he got wellstarted.
Along towards evening Si struck a section of old corduroy road througha piece of swamp. The passage of the artillery and wagons had left theroad in a wretched condition. The logs were lying at all points of thecompass, or drifting vaguely about in the mire, while here and therewere seas of water and pits of abysmal depth.
STUCK IN THE MUD 141 ]
To make the story short, Si's mules stumbled and floundered andkicked,--while Si laid on with the whip and used some of the words hehad learned from the old teamster before starting.
At length the wagon became hopelessly stalled. The wheels sank to thehubs, and Si yelled and cracked his whip in vain. Perhaps if he had hadthe old teamster there to swear for him he could have pulled through,but as it was he gave it up, dismounted, hunted a dry spot, and sat downto think and wait for something to turn up.
Just before dark a large detail from Co. Q, which had been sent backon an exploring expedition for Si and his team, reached the spot. Afterhours of prying and pushing and tugging and yelling they at length gotthe wagon over the slough, reaching camp about midnight.
"Orderly," said Si, "I believe I'd like to resign my place asmule-driver. It's a nice, soft thing, but I'd jest as lief let s'motherfeller have it, so I'll take my gun an' go to hoofin' it agin!"
