"But there is a by-road through the woods to the main road."
"I am a total stranger here, and I did not know there was even a path through the woods," added the lieutenant from Ohio, as the quartermaster-sergeant rolled the rope out of the wagon.
Deck called his men, who had been thoroughly rested by their stay in the woods, whether they needed it or not. The long rope was uncoiled; and Life was directed to make the two ends of it fast to the end of the pole, and pass it out through the three pairs of mules. Sixty men were detailed to man the rope in two lines. This required a part of the escort, and the rest of it were ordered to stand by the wheels. The negro driver of the first wagon was told by Life to go to the rear end and push; but this was done only to get him out of the way, for his brutality had disgusted both the lieutenant and the sergeant, as both of them believed in kindness to animals. They had seen the beatings bestowed on the animals before; and Deck, looking through his glass, was satisfied that the mules did not pull a pound under the beating. Perhaps they were disgusted with the failure of their efforts to move the wagon, as well as by the blows heaped upon them.
Life patted them on the neck, and coaxed them, and he certainly succeeded in bringing them to a good-natured condition of mind.
"Now, boys, straighten out them ropes!" shouted Life to the soldiers who manned them. "Pull steady for all you're wuth! Now, my beauties! Hi! now! Come, my beauties!" said he, taking the nigh head leader by the head, and leading him along.
To the astonishment of the men looking on, this mule made a flying leap nearly out of his harness, and then pulled as steadily as a well-trained horse; and the rest of the team followed his example. Life seemed to have some hypnotic power over a horse, and it appeared that he had the same influence over the mules. The men tugged at the rope, and the wagon was hauled out of the mire.
"Keep it moving!" shouted Deck. "If you stop, it will mire again. Keep it a-going!"
The men seemed to regard the work as a sort of enjoyable farce; and they cheered each other along, and some of them took to singing. They did not seem to be exerting all their strength, but the wagon moved along at quite a lively pace. If they had stopped two minutes, the wheels would have sunk down into the mud.
"John Brown's wagon got stuck in the mud,
And we pull it through the black miry flood,