Early in the morning, after a good night's rest, I was on hand, mounted on my large mouse-colored mule--an animal of great endurance--and ready for the journey; when the General saw me, he said: "Cody, I want to travel fast and go through as quickly as possible, and I don't think that mule of yours is fast enough to suit me." "General, never mind the mule," said I, "he'll get there as soon as your horses.

That mule is a good one," as I knew that the animal was better than most horses.
"Very well; go ahead, then," said he, though he looked as if he thought I would delay the party on the road.
For the first fifteen miles, until we came to the Smoky Hill River, which we were to cross, I could hardly keep the mule in advance of the General, who rode a frisky, impatient and ambitious thoroughbred steed; in fact, the whole party was finely mounted.

The General repeatedly told me that the mule was "no good," and that I ought to have had a good horse.

But after crossing the river and striking the sand-hills, I began letting my mule out a little, and putting the "persuaders" to him.

He was soon out-traveling the horses, and by the time we had made about half the distance to Fort Larned, I occasionally had to wait for the General or some of his party, as their horses were beginning to show signs of fatigue.
"General, how about this mule, anyhow ?" I asked, at last.
"Cody, you have a better vehicle than I thought you had," was his reply.
From that time on to Fort Larned I had no trouble in keeping ahead of the party.