"Well, do you think that is what these mules are doing now?"
"No, I guess not."
And as if to make sure they would, he reached out and wielded the long lash whip, and we understood that he not only wished to make the train on time, but also show us how soldier boys can drive "government mules." The thought that they were mules of the "U.S." brand did not add to our ease of mind any, for we had always heard them quoted as the very worst of mules.
Mrs. P. shook her head, and said she did believe they were running off, and I got in a good position to make a hasty exit if necessary, and then watched them run. After all we enjoyed the ride of four and a half miles in less than 30 minutes, and thanked the driver for it as he helped us into the depot in plenty of time for the train.
Mr. Tucker brought us some beautiful specimens of petrified wood—chips from a petrified log, found along the Minnechaduza, as a reminder of our trip to Valentine. Several cow-boys were in the depot, but as quiet as in the morning.
I employed the time in gathering information about the country from Mr. T. He informed me there was some good table-land beyond the bluffs, which would be claimed by settlers, and in a couple of years the large cattle ranches would have to go further west to find herding ground. They are driven westward just as the Indians and buffalo are, by the settling up of the country.
Valentine is near the north boundary of the state, is west of the 100th meridian, and 295 miles distant from the Missouri river.
When about ready to start, who should come to board the train but the man whom I thought must be a pony boy.
"Oh, Mrs. P.! that bad man is going too, and see! We will have to travel in only a baggage car!"
"Well, we cannot help ourselves now. The ambulance has started back, and we cannot stay here, so we are compelled to go."