The corral was crowded with oxen and men, and appeared a mass of confusion; but there was little confusion, for by this time the oxen and the men all knew their business. Davy pushed his way straight to the two big roans (the largest and stoutest bulls always were chosen for the wheel team, because they must hold up the heavy pole and also must stand up to the weight of the wagon down hill), and in approved fashion laid the yoke across the neck of one. “Be sure you yoke ’em like they’re used to travellin’, lad,” warned a kind teamster. “The near and the off bull, or you’ll have trouble.” Davy nodded again. He had noted this also. The “near” bull meant the bull that was yoked to stand on the left; the “off” bull was the right-hand one. The near bull of this team had a short horn, he remembered. He slipped the bow under the near bull’s neck, and standing on the outside, or left, inserted the ends of the bow up through the yoke and slipped the pin in to hold it. Then he hustled around to the opposite side of the “off” bull, who was standing close to his mate, shoved him about (“Get ’round there, you!” ordered Davy, gruffly), and reaching for the yoke lifted it across, adjusted the bow (from the outside), slipped in the pin from his mouth――and there he had his wheel pair yoked together! Now proud indeed, he led his yoke out through the other bulls to his wagon. They took position on either side of the pole, although they seemed a little puzzled by the change in manager. Now it only remained to lift the pole and put the end through the ring riveted to extend below the middle of the yoke. “Lead team next,” said Davy, wisely, to himself, leaving his wheel team and hurrying to shoulder another yoke and its bows and re-enter the wagon corral. Every man was supposed to know his twelve bulls as a father knows his children. Davy’s lead team were spotted fellows, with long black horns. He went straight to them where they stood, waiting; yoked them masterfully and led them, too, out to the wagon. He put them in position, and with the four other yokes built his whole team――starting from the rear. The train was ready and watching, but not impatient. The men gave him time. From the middle of each yoke the massive log chain by which they pulled ran between them back to the yoke of the pair behind――save that the wheel team pulled by the tongue and had no chain. Davy worked hard to hook the chains. A man stepped forward to help him; but Charley called promptly: “Let him alone, boys. He’s doing well. He’ll get the hang of it. Every man to his own team, you know.” And Davy was glad. “All set,” he announced shrilly, for his team were hooked at last. “All set,” repeated Charley. “Line out, boys.” To brisk shout from Joel and crack of his whip the lead team straightened their chains and the wagon moved ahead. One after another the other wagons followed; and Davy’s team fell into place almost before he had “popped” his whip and had joined in the cries: