Smiling broadly, swarthy Chileno John (who was supposed to have worked in the mines of Chile) led aside a sedate, round-bellied, mouse-colored mule, and lugged the pack material for her into position.
“That thar,” said Jack, “is a bell sharp. If you don’t know what a bell sharp is, I’ll tell ye. A bell sharp is a pack-mule that’s been eddicated into mule sense, so she keeps her place in line, an’ doesn’t stray on herd, an’ comes in to her own feed canvas at feedin’ time. When she ain’t a ‘bell sharp’ she’s a pesky ‘shave-tail.’ As long as a mule hasn’t got sense an’ is alluz rampagin’ an’ makin’ trouble we jest natter’ly roach her mane an’ keep her tail trimmed to about six ha’rs on the end so’s to pick her out of a bunch at fust sight. Same way,” grumbled old Jack, “’mongst these hyar army officers. That thar sprig young Left’nant Stewart, fresh out o’ West Point, who doesn’t know any better yet’n to climb a cactus tree, he’s a ‘shave tail’; but old Cap Tommy Byrne, up ’mongst the Hualpais near the Canyon, he’s a sure ’nough ‘bell sharp’ who knows when to come in to his feed.”
Jimmie had not seen Captain Thomas Byrne, a grizzled Civil War veteran who, reports stated, was regarded as a “father” by the Hualpai Indians on the Beale Springs reservation near the Grand Canyon. But he felt pretty well acquainted with Second Lieutenant Reid T. Stewart, the slim-waisted, boyish, eager young officer who had graduated from the Military Academy only last June and had been assigned to the Fifth Cavalry in Arizona. He was stationed down at Camp Lowell, Tucson, and Jimmie had got acquainted with him there and here at Grant, also. He might be a “shave tail,” yet, according to Jack, but he was much more pleasant than some of those crusty old “bell sharps.”
“What’s General Crook, then?” queried Jimmie, to get Jack’s opinion.
“The gin’ral. See hyar, me son,” reproved Jack severely: “no levity. The gin’ral’s the old bell hoss o’ the hull outfit. Wall,” continued Jack, “fust, one of us blinds the critter with a bandage o’ sackin’ or with one o’ those leather contraptions the gin’ral’s interduced, so she’ll stand. Then havin’ got all the riggin’ to hand, we lay on this sweat-cloth, for which proper name is suadera, an’ a saddle-blanket or two for more paddin’, ’less we have a reg’lar corona, the same bein’ the blankets an’ the suadera stitched together. Then atop that we fold the bed blanket that we got to sleep under at camp. Then we h’ist on the aparejo—this-a-way, easy—an’ settle it, an’ pass the grupera back.”
The aparejo (ah-pah-ray-ho) was the pack-saddle—a long, broad mattress of canvas stuffed with hay, and stiffened with ribs of willow stems running up and down, in either half. It was broken in the middle, so that it would fit over the mule’s back.
The grupera (gru-pay-rah) was the crupper—a broad canvas and leather band that extended in a loop around the mule’s haunches under her tail, so that the aparejo could not slip forward.
“Then we lay the aparejo cincha so to hang acrost the middle, pass the ring end under her belly, connect up with the latigo strap and all together draw tighter’n sin so’s to hold the aparejo in place.”
The aparejo cincha was another canvas band, like a woven saddle-cinch. It was long enough to reach across under the mule’s belly. One end terminated in a ring and the other end in a leather strap, the latigo; and by connecting the ring and strap the cincha was drawn tight.