Here were swarthy Mexicans, whom the boy from New Orleans recognized, as he had talked with many off the ships from Vera Cruz, swearing and sweating as they made ready the mule pack train which would make up half of the caravan. A _mula de carga_ was brought up to where the cargo lay upon the ground, the sheepskin pad and saddle-cloth thrown upon its back, the _aparejo_, the hay-stuffed saddle of leather which protected the animal’s back from the cargo, set on top, and cinched with a wide grass bandage as tightly as the shouting, straining _arriero_ could draw it, while the mule groaned and grunted. It seemed to Steven raw cruelty, but he kept his own counsel, watching one animal after another saddled in this way, swiftly, expertly. The _cargador_ and his assistant, using their knees as levers, deftly heaved the heavy bales of goods up on to the mules’ backs, lashing them firmly with a stout rope passed under the belly of the animal, while a vicious-looking crupper passed beneath their scarred and lacerated tails further served to hold the whole tight. In five minutes a mule was loaded. “_Adios_,” shouted the _cargador_, slapping the animal on the rump. “Good-by.” The assistant would sing out, “_Vaya_ [Go].” “_Anda_ [Walk],” the cargador would answer, upon which the animal would trot off to feed until the rest of the train was ready. There were thirty wagons in this caravan, drawn by mules, with the exception of two belonging to the colonel, which would carry three tons of goods each, twice as much as the others, and which were each drawn by twelve oxen. This was something new on the Trail and the colonel was most particular to see how the oxen served. The remaining six wagons belonging to St. Vrain carried one and a half tons each and were drawn by eight mules. The rest of the caravan was made up of eight-mule wagons and the mule train, with thirty or forty extra mules and horses that would bring up the rear of the caravan, as usual. The colonel had been chosen captain of the traders, and his word would be law on the voyage across the plains. He rode back and forth now, directing the loading of his own wagons and superintending the work of all. Steve’s bags were packed under the seat of the wagon in which he was to ride. The caravan was falling into line before he realized it. No time to lose; the train had waited as long as it dared for the goods from New Orleans, and, now they were ready, they would go. “All’s set,” was heard from one teamster after another. “Stretch out,” shouted the _mayordomo_ (who was next in command) as the muleteers ran along, cracking their whips and driving the grazing mules into line. “Catch up! Ca-aatch up!”