was a big fool gray that was constitutionally rattle-brained. He meant
well enough, but he didn't know anything. When he came to a bad place
in the trail, he took one good look--and rushed it. Constantly we
expected him to come to grief. It wore on the Tenderfoot's nerves.
Tunemah was always trying to wander off the trail, trying fool routes
of his own invention. If he were sent ahead to set the pace, he lagged
and loitered and constantly looked back, worried lest he get too far in
advance and so lose the bunch. If put at the rear, he fretted against
the bit, trying to push on at a senseless speed. In spite of his
extreme anxiety to stay with the train, he would once in a blue moon
get a strange idea of wandering off solitary through the mountains,
passing good feed, good water, good shelter. We would find him, after
a greater or less period of difficult tracking, perched in a silly
fashion on some elevation. Heaven knows what his idea was: it certainly
was neither search for feed, escape, return whence he came, nor desire
for exercise. When we came up with him, he would gaze mildly at us
from a foolish vacant eye and follow us peaceably back to camp. Like
most weak and silly people, he had occasional stubborn fits when you
could beat him to a pulp without persuading him. He was one of the
type already mentioned that knows but two or three kinds of feed. As
time went on he became thinner and thinner. The other horses
prospered, but Tunemah failed. He actually did not know enough to take
care of himself; and could not learn. Finally, when about two months
out, we traded him at a cow-camp for a little buckskin called Monache.

So much for the saddle-horses. The pack-animals were four.

A study of Dinkey's character and an experience of her characteristics
always left me with mingled feelings. At times I was inclined to think
her perfection: at other times thirty cents would have been esteemed by
me as a liberal offer for her. To enumerate her good points: she was
an excellent weight-carrier; took good care of her pack that it never
scraped nor bumped; knew all about trails, the possibilities of short
cuts, the best way of easing herself downhill; kept fat and healthy in
districts where grew next to no feed at all; was past-mistress in the
picking of routes through a trailless country. Her endurance was
marvelous; her intelligence equally so. In fact too great intelligence
perhaps accounted for most of h