So they did not apply for the vacant saddle with that alacrity which might have been expected, when so good a chance was offered for a soldier to ride and get his traps carried on a wagon. Whenever an infantryman threw away such an opportunity it is safe to assume that there was some good reason for it.
But the idea of riding for a few days and letting his blisters get well was too much for Si Klegg. Besides, he thought if there was any one thing he could do better than another it was driving a team. He had been doing it on his father's farm all his life. It is true, he didn't know much about mules, but he imagined they were a good deal like horses.
"I'm your man!" spoke up Si cheerfully.
"All right," said the Orderly. "Company, Right—Face! Break ranks—March!"
"There ain't any trouble about it!" Si said to Shorty as they walked back to the tent. "I reckon it's easy enough to manage mules if you go at 'em right. It'll be just fun for me to drive team. And say. Shorty, I'll carry all your traps on my wagon. That'll be a heap better'n totin' 'em!"
Si gathered up his outfit and started to enter upon his new sphere of usefulness.
"Shall I take my gun and bay'net along?" he asked the Orderly.
"Guess you'd better; they might come handy!" replied the Orderly, as he thought of the teamster's disastrous encounter with the "off-wheeler."