tails together, crosswise and "every which way," tied up with the
straps 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. Gathering
himself up, he gazed in utter amazement at the twisted, writhing mass.
At this moment a messenger came from the Captain to "hurry up that
team," and poor Si didn't know what to do. He wished he could only swear
like 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 the
company were all getting ready for the march.

A veteran teamster happened along that way, and took in the situation
at a glance. He saw that Si had bit off more than he could chew, and
volunteered 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 right
and 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 voice
words that fairly hissed through the air. Si thought he could smell the
brimstone and see the smoke issuing from the old teamster's mouth and
nostrils. 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 of
language, and said he would remember them. He had no doubt they would
help him out the next time.

They finally got the team untied, and Si drove over to the company
ground. The regiment had been gone some time, a detail having been left
to load the wagon. After getting out upon the road the mules plodded
along without objection, and Si got on famously. But having lost his
place in the column in consequence of the delay, he was obliged to
fall in rear of the division train, and it was noon before he got well
started.

Along towards evening Si struck a section of old corduroy road through
a piece of swamp. The passage of the artillery and wagons had left the
road in a wretched condition. The logs were lying at all points of the
compass, or drifting vaguely about in the mire, while here and there
were seas of water and pits of abysmal depth.

[Illustration: STUCK IN THE MUD 141 ]

To make the story short, Si's mul