Just as day was beginning to break, we--that is the mule and myself--found ourselves on a hill looking down into the valley of the Pawnee Fork, in which Fort Larned was located, only four miles away; and when the morning gun belched forth we were within half a mile of the post.
"Now," said I, "Mr.Mule, it is my turn," and raising my gun to my shoulder, in "dead earnest" this time, I blazed away, hitting the animal in the hip.

Throwing a second cartridge into the gun, I let him have another shot, and I continued to pour the lead into him until I had him completely laid out.

Like the great majority of government mules, he was a tough one to kill, and he clung to life with all the tenaciousness of his obstinate nature.

He was, without doubt, the toughest and meanest mule I ever saw, and he died hard.
The troops, hearing the reports of the gun, came rushing out to see what was the matter.

They found that the mule had passed in his chips, and when they learned the cause they all agreed that I had served him just right.