The midland journal., 1916-03-10
PROVED HIS METAL
MULE DRIVER CONSIDERABLY
BETTER THAN He LOOKED.
Stampeded by Bear, He Guided Team
With Remarkable skill Until Un-
avoidable Accident Finished
Run, but He Killed Rruin.

S George Haskins was long-legged.
red-headed, long-armed, thin, freckled
and mild. He had the voice Of a bass
fiddle and the manners of a bashfuI
boy OF thirteen. He stood three
inches above six feet, and weighed
1877 pounds. Under an immense Mex
lean hat his face looked like turkeys
egg in clothes basket. His thin
waist was encirc1ed with a belt four
inches wide, embellished with brass
studs. His arms stuck far out of his
sleeves, and his trousers did not
reach his shoe tops. But there was
something appealing about him, and
his eyes we're very steady and depend
able.
Every day he drove four mules over
the trail between the mining camp
and the railway station, 12 miles away
and 1000 feet lower. He drove well,
his mules were perfectly kept, and he
soon won their confidence.
He had an unexpected sense Of hui
NOR, too, and was popular about the
camp in spite of his unpromising
looks.
One day George asked the boss to
lend him his revolver. He had seen
several snakes and bear, and had
no weapon. The boss let him have it,
and within two weeks George had
three rattlesnakes' skins and three
prong buck head on the stable wall.
About three weeks after he began
carrying the gun man rode into
camp and asked whether we knew
that freight wagon had gone off the
grade three miles down the trail He
said the truck turned squarely out to
the left and went down a slide that he
was sure no team could keep its feet
on, and had gone out of sight among
the pines below.
Seven of us started of at once.
mo man on earth can ride wagon
down there and keep on it," said Pete
Simpson, as he looked at the steep
incline down which the wagon tracks
plunged; "but that long-legged galoot
has done it, and / can ride mule
where he can ride wagon, so here
goes!" He plunged off, and the rest
followed The chaparral brush was
several feet high; 1t whipped the rid
ers' faces, tore their sleeves and trou
sers. and tangled the animals feet un
til they stumbled again and again.
At the foot Of the pitch the men
found that the wagon had made q
quick turn to the left to avoid a
bow1der, then another to the right tc
dodge a tree, and had entered the
pines on the dead run. How any
driver could have kept his head after
that pitch over a 45-degree patch of
rough chaparral and be in shape to
guide four frantic mules was beyond
understanding.
Only little farther they found
George and the mules. Their har
nesses were broken and hanging in
strips, but not a mule was badly hurt.
The wagon lay on its side against a
big pine, and its contents were scat
tered all over the ground. George
was sitting up against log with his
right arm and leg broken. but his
voice was cheerful as he said, "Hello!.
When the boys had roughly set
the broken limbs, George told them
what had happened.
He had met a big bear in the trail,
and the brute charged the leaders out
of pure meanness. The mules whirled
short and jumped over the bank, and
the wheelers followed. George pulled
the revolver and took snap shot
rs he went past the bear, and then
dropped the gun to put his strength
on the lines. He had kept the mules
straight until the last turn in the
pines, and then the mules headed for
space too narrow. for the wagon. He
tried to turn them, and the wagon
went over and threw him against
tree.
Pete Simpson vowed that he would
follow the bear for the next six
months If necessary to get him, and
after they got George back to camp
Pete began to prepare for a bear hunt
that very night.
He telegraphed to his brother, 40
miles away, to come and bring his
pair of hounds. The brother came in
with the night freight, and by day
light the hounds were shifting the
tracks of the bear. For two miles up
and over the worst peaks and ridges
they led the hunters.
Then the dogs began to bay down
in dark, heavily wooded canyon at
the right. TIE men scrambled down
into the canyon and crawled over
rocks and logs to where they could
see the dogs. They we're baying i
dead bear.
That hurried shot as the wagon tore
after the mules down that precipitous
slide had gone home. and the bear
had gone into the canyon to bleed to
death internally. He was old and very
arge.-Youth's Companion.