At the cry a four-mule team moved off with a load of tents and took to the road that wound through Opaco, across the bridge, and through the rocky defile to the desert. A six-up team of horses followed with a load of lumber. Teams pulling strings of six-wheeled scrapers fell in line. Two-mule teams, four-mule teams, six and eight-mule teams swung into the impressive procession and followed. And soon a parade a mile and a half long was trailing in a cloud of dust through open-mouthed Opaco.
Midway in the procession Halfaman Daisy draped himself over a high spring seat and looked indolently down on the slick backs of six young mules. A cigarette hung from his lip at the corner of his sagging good-natured mouth. Halfaman’s load consisted of ranges and commissary stores, and just behind him, on a huge bundle of canvas lay Falcon the Flunky, flat on his back, gazing serenely up into the dusty desert sky.
“‘And the children of Amram; Aaron and Moses and Miriam,’” quoted Halfaman drowsily. “‘The sons also of Aaron; Nadab and Abihu, Eleazar and Ithamar. Eleazar begat Phinehas’—that’s me—‘Phinehas begat Abishua.’ Abishua—that’s him! And I’m huntin’ him down—I’m on my way. I’m on the trail o’ the ‘Wing o’ the Crow’——
“Oh, I been a-down on-a the gumbo line,
A-skinnin’ mules when the weather’s fine,
A-shootin’ craps when the sun don’t shine,
An’ now I’m a-ramblin’ to that baby mine!
With the pay day—for me ba-bay!
With the pay day of that gumbo line!”
As a vocalist there was room for improvement in Mr. Halfaman Daisy, but he sang the old skinner’s song with a swing and gusto that entertained his lolling passenger.