'I don't care what you do. It is nothing to me. You had
better pack your mules before it is dark, or you may lose
them.'
'I may as well go with you, I think. I don't care much about
going back to Laramie.'
He looked miserable. I was so. I had held out under a long
and heavy strain. Parting with Fred had, for the moment,
staggered my resolution. I was sick at heart. The thought
of packing two mules twice a day, single-handed, weakened as
I was by illness, appalled me. And though ashamed of the
perversity which had led me to fling away the better and
accept the worse, I yielded.
'Very well then. Make haste. Get your traps together. I'll
look after the horses.'
It took more than an hour before the four mules were ready.
Like a fool, I left Samson to tie the led horses in a string,
while I did the same with the mules. He started, leading the
horses. I followed with the mule train some minutes later.
Our troubles soon began. The two spare horses were nearly as
wild as the mules. I had not got far when I discerned
through the rain a kicking and plunging and general
entanglement of the lot ahead of me. Samson had fastened the
horses together with slip knots; and they were all doing
their best to strangle one another and themselves.
