By the time that the breakfasts were over the cattle had been driven, with shouts and crack of whip, into the wagon corral, where under a dust cloud they stood grunting and jostling. Yank posted himself at one gap of the corral Charley at the other. “Catch up! Catch up, boys!” called Charley, the wagon boss; the cry was repeated, and the men sprang to their yokes. Every man with his yoke on his shoulder, a yoke pin in his hand, another in his mouth, and an ox-bow slung on his arm, the gang poured into the corral. It was an interesting sight, and a number of emigrants who had camped near gathered to witness. There was a rivalry among the men as to which should yoke up first. Davy wondered how they found their bulls so readily; but in rapid succession every man, working hard, had yoke and bows on a pair of his team, and led them forth to his wagon. First the yoke was laid over the neck of a bull, the bow was slipped under and the pins thrust in to fasten bow to yoke; then the other bull was yoked; and this done, dragging the chains they were led out in a hurry. This pair, Davy saw, were the wheel team――the team next to the wagon. They supported the wagon pole, which hung in a ring riveted to the centre of the yoke. As soon as the wheel teams were hitched to the wagon the men hastened to yoke and lead out the lead teams, which were the teams at the other end of the six. Then the space was filled in by the four other teams, all the chains were hooked, the men straightened out their six yoke, and the train was ready to move. It all had been done, as Davy thought, very quickly; but Joel Badger, whom Davy liked exceedingly, thought differently. “We make rather a botch of it at first,” said Joel, as beside his fine team he stood, whip in hand, waiting for the word to start. “Some of the bulls are sure to be green or ornery, and not used to their drivers or each other. After they have pulled together for a time all the bulls in each team will sorter flock in a bunch, in the corral, and a fellow won’t have to hunt through the herd. You’ll see some fast work before you get to the end of the trail.” “Aren’t the mules as good as bulls?” queried Davy. “No. They used to have mules and mule skinners instead of bull whackers down on the Santa Fe Trail, and I reckon they’ve used ’em on the Overland Trail, too. Bulls are better all ’round. They can walk as fast as a mule if they’re pushed; they can live on grazing that a mule can’t; and they’re not so liable to be stampeded. If Injuns run off any cattle we can overtake ’em by mule or horse and fetch ’em back. No, for freight hauling the bulls are the best. Those used down on the southern trails are Texas cattle largely; small-bodied kind, with flaring big horns. These we use in the north, on the Overland Trail, are some Durhams, some Herefords, and so on. I reckon I’ve got about the best team in the outfit; they’re black Galloways, with a yoke of red Devons.”