er point in that case is this: at three years old, a mule is in a
worse condition, generally, than he is at any other period in life. At
three, he is more subject to distemper, sore eyes, and inflammation of
all parts of the head and body. He becomes quite weak from not being
able to eat, gets loose and gaunt, and is at that time more subject and
more apt to take contagious diseases than at any other change he may go
through. There is but one sure way to remedy this evil. Do not buy three
year old mules to put to work that it requires a five or six year old
mule to perform. Six three year old mules are just about as fit to
travel fifteen miles per day, with an army wagon loaded with twenty-five
hundred and their forage, as a boy, six years of age, is fit to do a
man's work. During the first twelve months of the war, I had charge of
one hundred and six mule-teams, and I noticed in particular, that not
one solitary mule as high as six years old gave out on the trips that I
made with the teams. I also noticed that, on most occasions, the three
year olds gave out, or became so leg-weary that they could scarce walk
out of the way of the swingle-tree, whereas those of four and upward
would be bright and brisk, and able to eat their forage when they came
to camp. The three year old mules would lie down and not eat a bite,
through sheer exhaustion. I also noticed that nearly all the three year
old mules that went to Utah, in 1857, froze to death that winter, while
those whose ages varied from four, and up to ten, stood the winter and
came out in the spring in good working condition. In August, 1855, I
drove a six-mule team to Fort Riley, in Kansas Territory, from Fort
Leavenworth, on the Missouri River, loaded with twelve sacks of grain.
It took us thirteen days to make the trip. When we reached Fort Riley
there were not fifty mules, in the train of one hundred and fifty, that
would have sold at public sale for thirty dollars, and a great many gave
out on account of being too young and the want of proper treatment. In
the fall of 1860, I drove a six-mule team, loaded with thirty hundred
weight, twenty-five days' rations for myself and another man, and twelve
days' storage for the team, being allowed twelve pounds to each mule per
day. I drove this team to Fort Laramie, in Nebraska Territory, and from
there to Fort Leavenworth, on the Missouri River. I made the drive there
and back in thirty-eight days, and laid over two and a half