"Never mind the train, General. You are looking for a good camp. How does that valley suit you?"
"That will do," he said. "I can easily descend with the cavalry, but how to get the wagons down is a puzzler."
"By the time your camp is located the wagons will be there," I said.
"All right," he returned. "I'll leave it to you, inasmuch as you seem to want to be the boss." He ordered the command to dismount and lead the horses down the mountain. When the wagon-train, which was a mile in the rear, came up, one of the drivers asked:
"How are we going to get down there?"
"Run down, slide down, fall down—any way to get down," I told him.
"We never can do it," said another wagon-master. "It's too steep. The wagons will run over the mules."
"Oh, no," I said. "The mules will have to keep out of the way."
I instructed Wilson, the chief wagon-master, to bring up his mess-wagon. He drove the wagon to the brink of the bluff. Following my directions, he brought out extra chains with which we locked both wheels on each side, and then rough-locked them.
This done, we started the wagons down the hill. The wheel-horses, or rather the wheel-mules, were good on the hold back, and we got along beautifully till the wagon had nearly reached the bottom of the declivity. Then the wagon crowded the mules so hard that they started on the run and came galloping down into the valley to the spot General Carr had selected for his camp. There was not the slightest accident.