"Stop swearin', there, you fellers. You've frozen 'em stiff with your bad language. Pray with 'em." "Read them the Emancipation Proclamation." "Call 'em pet names. You can do anything with kindness. Even a mule has, a heart." "Bring up the band and serenade 'em." Shorty was raging around the team, kicking and striking first at one mule and then at another, and swearing like a pirate, alternately at the team and then at the jeering crowds. Si was following suit to the best of his ability, but his pious education had left him out of sight of Shorty when it came to using language that the occasion seemed to justify. He had, however, yanked Groundhog out of the saddle and driven him up the bank, where he sat down and grinned at the confusion which had overtaken his enemies. Setting a man at the head of each mule to coax and encourage him, and the rest of the company to pushing and prying on the wagon, Si had mounted the wheel-mule himself and put forth his mule-knowledge in one feverish effort, which was as futile as it was desperate, for the mules did not seem to change their positions for a rest, even, when the wagon was forced forward on them. A very dapper young Aid, fresh from West Point, and with that high appreciation for himself that can only be acquired at the United States Military Academy, galloped up, sternly ordering everybody to make way for him, and, "Present the compliments of the Major-General commanding the division, and what the h--'s the matter?" "Capt. McGillicuddy, to whom the young gentle man had been referred as in charge, said quietly: "You see: A mule-team has balked and stopped everything. We're doing our best to start them, but so far without success." "So we all perceive," said the young man superciliously. "Why are you not down there directing them?" "The men that I have down there thoroughly understand mules, and are doing their very utmost. They are having, as you can see, a superfluity of advice which is not helping them. I can best help by letting them alone to work it out their own way. They will do all that men can." "I shall report the case to the General," said the Aid, with scarcely-concealed insolence. "Just like these confounded volunteers," he said as he turned away, taking no pains to keep the Captain from overhearing. "Never will be genuine soldiers in the world. Here, my men," continued he, riding over to the wagon, "stir yourselves lively, now, and start these wagons along. I want no more fooling, and won't have it. Start, now."