material as guns and ammunition. The lighter was warped to the pier at
11 o'clock, and the general tied his steam launch alongside to see
that it was not disturbed until the debarkation was completed. At 1
o'clock everything was ashore, and, in compliance with the general's
instructions, the best mules in the corral were taken, and as they
were led away from the corral-gate, a fat, sleek, black streaked,
long-eared specimen, which had been selected for a saddle-mule, set up
a cheerful "Aw! hee haw! haw!" which produced a burst of laughter and
cheering from the members of the detachment and the soldiers in the
vicinity. It was a cheerful omen. These Missouri mules were capable of
pulling anything loose at both ends, and four experienced drivers had
been selected from the detachment who were capable of riding anything
that walked on four feet, or driving anything from an Arab courser to
a pair of Shetland ponies.

Priv. J. Shiffer had been selected as corral boss of the detachment.
The most picturesque figure, the most boyish member, and as brave a
soldier as ever shouldered a musket; broad of shoulder, stout of limb,
full of joke, as cheerful as a ray of sunlight, this man was the
incarnation of courage and devotion. He loved a mule. He was proud of
the job. With the instinct of a true teamster, he had snapped up the
best pair of mules in the whole corral and was out before the
detachment commander had selected a single mule. This team was as
black as Shiffer's shoes and as strong as a pair of elephants. They
were worked harder than any other team in the 5th Army Corps, and when
they were turned in to the quartermaster in August, they were as fat,
as sleek, as strong, and as hardy as on the day they were taken from
the corral in Baiquiri. The other three teamsters were like unto the
first. They were all handy men. They were as capable of fighting or
aiming a gun as of driving a team. Any one of the four could take a