The gov'ment freighters not bein' equal to the manifold mysteries of a diamond-hitch, don't use no reg'lar shore-enough pack saddle but takes refooge with their ignorance in panniers.
"Speakin' gen'ral, thar's mebby two hundred mules in one of these gov'ment pack trains.

An' in the lead, followed, waited on an' worshipped by the mules, is a aged gray mare.

She don't pack nothin' but her virchoo an' a little bell, which last is hung 'round her neck.

This old mare, with nothin' but her character an' that bell to encumber her, goes fa'rly flyin' light.

But go as fast an' as far as she pleases, them long-y'eared locoed worshippers of her's won't let her outen their raptured sight.