Selecting & Using Animal Packs

Fur-Traders' System of Packing — Journey from Fort Colville to Fort Hope — Disadvantages of the 
Cross-tree Pack-saddle — Crimean Pack Saddles radically bad — Desirability of the ' Aparejo ' — How to 
make an Aparejo — Its Weight — Evidences of Suffering — In search of Pack Saddles — The 'Rigging.'

In the choice of pack-saddles, opinions vary most materially. Some persons, for example the Hudson's Bay 
Company's traders, stick to, and swear by, the cross-tree pack-saddle, from which they hang their bales of 
fur-peltries by loops.

It may prove interesting en passant, to give a brief outline of the plan adopted by all the far inland fur trading posts, 
for the conveyance of the year's furs to the place, at which either a steamer or a 'batteau' unloads the annual 
supply of goods sent from England for the use of the traders, and in return takes the peltries traded, back to the 
central depot. As a description of one will apply with equal force to all of them, I shall select for description Fort 
Colville, which is situate on the banks of the Upper Columbia, about 1,000 miles from the seaboard. This quaint old 
place, one of the Company's earliest trading stations west of the Rocky Mountains, is worthy of a passing 
description as affording a good example of the fur-trader's 'Home in the Wilderness.' The trader's house is 
quadrangular in shape, and built of heavy trees squared and piled one upon another. The front, faces the 
Columbia River, whilst rearward is a gravelly plain which I shall presently have more to say about. 

The visitor, on entering the somewhat ponderous portals of this primitive mansion, finds himself in a large room 
dimly lighted by two small windows, the furniture of which, designed more for use than ornament, consists of a few 
rough chairs and a large deal table, the latter occupying the centre of the room. Looking beneath this table one 
cannot fail to notice an immense padlock, which evidently fastens a trap-door, and if you happen to be a guest of 
the chief trader, (and here I must add as the result of long experience that the Hudson's Bay Company's traders are
the most hospitable kind-hearted fellows I ever met with), the probabilities are greatly in favour of your discovering 
the secret of the trap-door, very soon after you enter the room. 

The table pushed back, the trap-door is unfastened, and the trader descends into a dark mysterious-looking cave, 
soon however to emerge with a jug of rum, or something equally toothsome. Now, if you are of an inquisitive turn of 
mind, you may find out that in this underground strong-room, all valuables are deposited and secured. This room, 
beneath which the cavern has been excavated, has some person to occupy it night and day, and the chief trader
sleeps in it; hence it is next to impossible that the savages could steal anything unless they forcibly sacked and 
pillaged the establishment. 

An immense hearth-fire, both warms and lights this dreary sitting-room, for at least eight mouths of the year. Behind 
the dwelling is a large court enclosed by tall pickets, composed of trees sunk in the ground side by side, (the house 
itself was I believe once picketed in, but the Indians proved so friendly that any protection of that description was
deemed unnecessary). In this court, all the furs traded at the fort, are baled for conveyance by the Brigade to Fort 
Hope. The trading shop, and store of goods employed in bartering with the savages, adjoins the trader's house, 
although not actually a part of it; and the furtrader stands therein behind a high counter, to make his bargains. The 
Indians have a curious custom in their barterings, which is, to demand payment for each skin separately, and if a 
savage had fifty marten skins to dispose of, he would only sell or barter one at a time, and insist on being paid for 
them one by one. Hence it often occupies the trader many days to purchase a large bale of peltries from an Indian 
trapper.

The system of trading at all the posts of the Company is one entirely of barter. In early days, when I first wandered 
over the fur countries east of the Rocky Mountains, money was unknown; but this  medium of exchange has since 
then gradually become familiar to most of the Indians.

The standard of value throughout the territories of the Company is the skin of the beaver, by which the price of all 
other fur is regulated. Any service rendered, or labour executed by Indians, is paid for in skins; the beaver skin 
being the unit of computation. To explain this system, let us assume that four beavers, are equivalent in value to a 
silver-fox skin, two martens to a beaver, twenty musk rats to a marten, and so on. For example sake, let us suppose 
an Indian wishes to purchase a blanket or a gun from the Hudson's Bay Company; he would have to give, say, three
silver-foxes, or twenty beaver skins, or two hundred musk rats, or other furs, in accordance with their proper relative 
positions of worth in the tarrif. 

The Company generally issues to the Indians, such goods as they need up to a certain amount, when the summer 
supplies arrive at the Posts — these advances to be paid for at the conclusion of the hunting season. In hiring 
Indians east of the Cascade Mountains, whilst occupied in marking the Boundary line, our agreement was always to 
pay them in beaver skins, say, two or three per day, in accordance with the duty required; but this agreement did 
not mean actual payment in real skins — a matter that to us would have been impossible — but that we were to give
the Indian, an order on the nearest trading post of the Hudson's Bay Company, to supply him with any goods he 
might select, up to the value of the beaver skins specified on the order.

In many of the Posts the trade room is cleverly contrived, so as to prevent a sudden rush of Indians, the approach 
from outside the pickets being through a long narrow passage, only of sufficient width to admit one Indian at a time, 
the passage being bent at an acute angle near the window, where the trader stands. This precaution is rendered 
necessary, inasmuch as were the passage straight, the savages might easily shoot him.

Where the savages are hostile, at the four angles of the court bastions are placed, octagonal in shape, and pierced
with embrasures, to lead the Indians to believe in the existence of cannon, intended to strike terror into all 
red-skinned rebels daring to dispute the supremacy of the Company. Over the fur shop are large lofts for storing
and drying the furs in as they are collected. Beyond this a smith's shop, a few small log shanties, and an immense
'corral,' for keeping the horses in, whilst fitting out the 'brigade,' make up all that is noteworthy as far as the 
buildings are concerned at Fort Colville. 

The regular staff stationed at this Post, consists of the chief-trader, a clerk, and about four half breeds, the 
remainder of the hands needed are selected from the Indians. The houses are by no means uncomfortable, and I 
can truthfully say, many of the happiest evenings of my life, have been passed in the 'big room' at Fort Colville.

Transport yourself, reader, to the banks of the Columbia, a thousand miles from the seacoast; never mind by what 
means you arrive, only try to suppose we are together, our head-quarters for the time being the Hudson's Bay 
Company's trading post. Fort Colville, I have just described. If we ramble along the winding trail, leading over the 
sandy waste, on which this so-called fort stands, on our right hand (we must pass close to them) are several
Indian lodges. 

These conical affairs are made of rushmats, and scraps of hide, supported on a framework of sticks, with a hole at 
the top to let the smoke out. Dingy little urchins by the dozen may be seen outside, rolling and frolicking amidst a 
pack of prickeared curs, ever ready to bite a stranger's legs, their playmates, or each other for that matter, on the 
slightest provocation. Flabby squaws crouch at the entrance hole — door is a misnomer — whilst a peep through 
the gaping seams reveals several half-naked savages, idling drowsily round a few smouldering embers, placed in 
the centre of this most squalid habitation. On our left, and behind us, the treeless plain — once clearly the bottom 
of a large lake, for the water-line is still visible round the edges of the encircling hills, and the gravelly surface is
bestrewn with boulders and water-worn pebbles — stretches away for a good two miles, to meet the wooded slopes 
of a ridge of hills that ascend in terraces composed of ancient gravels, until growing obscure in the mist and haze of
distance they seem to mingle their summits with the clouds. 

Ahead a narrow stream twists like a silver cord from the base of the hills, to join the Columbia. This stream we cross 
on a fallen tree, a bridge of Nature's own contriving, worn bare by the feet of the Red Skins that traverse it by the 
hundred during the salmon harvest. Now we scramble up a steep shingly rise and stand on a level plateau, where 
gigantic pitch-pine trees, many of them 250 feet high, and straight as flagstaffs, grow thickly. I scarcely know a more 
beautiful pine than this, the Pinus 'ponderosa, which to a great extent replaces the Douglas pine [Abies Bouglassh),
everywhere east of the Cascade Mountains. The bark, arranged in massive scales, not unlike that peculiar to the 
cork tree, has between each of the shields or scales deep clefts and fissures, like miniature valleys between 
mountains of bark, hollows affording most admirable lurking places and sheltered retreats for all sorts of insects.

Far below us we gaze down on a landscape, matchless in its massive and sublime beauty; a scene wherein forests, 
rocks, and a surging cataract, 400 feet in width, fairly stagger one by their very immensity. The 'Kettle Falls' are not 
so remarkable for altitude as for the enormous volume of water that sweeps over the jagged masses of basaltic 
rocks, through which the river at this spot breaks its way. Here too the lake water which once filled the hollow we 
have just crossed evidently made its escape, whether let out by subsidence of the rocky barrier or upheaval of the 
land below and around it, is not very easy to determine. 

About a mile above the Kettle Falls the Na-horla-pit-ka  River joins its waters with those of the Columbia, and when 
thus reinforced the river rushes on with increased velocity to reach the Falls. Its width at this distance from the sea 
is 400 yards, and in summer, when flooded by the melting snows, it rises quite 40 feet above its autumn and winter 
level. 

Before the river takes its final plunge over the rocks it is split, so to speak, by an island, rocky and devoid of 
vegetation, if we except a few gnarled and twisted pine trees that struggle for an existence amidst the clefts in the 
rocks. This island adds very materially to the charm of the scene. Standing in mid channel, it gives one the idea that
it is floating, just as though a small mountain had fallen into the river, and was being rapidly carried over the Falls; 
and the more steadfastly one gazes at it, the firmer grows the belief in its possessing motion. Thus staring at the
island and the eddying rapids that whirl past it, I have often grown dizzy, and for a moment imagined that the rocks I 
sat on, and the entire river bank with them, were fast moving towards the Falls. 

Below this insular clump of rocks the waters again join and dash over the Falls: so great is the force of the stream 
that the water looks like moving snow, and from its seething, bubbling, and boiling appearance, the fur-traders have 
named it the 'Kettle Falls.' This spot is the grand depot for fishing, during the salmon 'run,' which takes place in 
June and July. More than five hundred Indians then assemble here, in order to trap this lordly fish, to them an 
absolute necessity. Cut them off from the salmon-harvest and they must inevitably perish during the bitter winter, 
starved alike by cold and hunger. I have myself seen above 500 salmon landed in one day from the baskets into 
which the fish leap. 

Once every summer the 'Brigade' (for such is the pack-train styled) starts from Fort Colville to reach Fort Hope, 
which is a small place even now, but at one time could boast only a solitary house, used for the reception of the furs 
brought by all the inland brigades for shipment to the main depot at Victoria, Vancouver Island. Fort Hope being 
practically the head of navigation on the Fraser, is visited now, as in the olden days, but once a year by the 
Company's steamer, freighted with goods of various kinds, for bartering, together with other matters of detail, all of 
which are carried back by the brigades on their return to their different trading posts.

This journey from Colville to Hope occupies nearly three months for its accomplishment. About the beginning of 
June preparations commence at Fort Colville for the Brigade. The horses (the Hudson's Bay Company never use 
mules), in number about 120 to 150, are brought by the 'Indian herders,' who have had charge of them during the 
winter, to a spot called the 'Horse Guard,' about three miles from the fort, where there is an abundance of succulent 
grass and a good stream of water. Here the animals are taken care of by the trustworthy Indians until their 
equipment or 'rigging' is ready, which process is at the same time going on at the fort. Here some thirty or forty 
savages may be seen squatting round the door of the fur-room; some of them are stitching pads and cushions into 
the wooden frames of the pack-saddles; others are mending the broken frames; a third group is cutting long thongs 
of raw hide to serve as girths, or to act in lien of ropes for lashing and tying; and a fourth is making the peltries up 
into bales, by the aid of a powerful lever press. 

Each bale is to weigh about sixty pounds, and the contents to be secured from wet by a wrapper of buffalo-hide, the 
skin side outermost. This package is then provided with two very strong loops, made from raw hides, for the 
purpose of suspending it from what are called the 'horns' of the pack-saddle. Two of these bales hung up each side 
of a horse is a load, and a horse so provided is said to be packed. 

When all the preparations are completed the horses are driven in from the 'guard' to the fort, and the packing 
commences. They use no halters, but simply throw a lassoo round the animal's neck, with which it is held whilst 
being packed; this finished, the lassoo is removed, and the horse is again turned loose into the 'corral,' or onto the 
open plain, as it may be. 

Let us imagine a horse lassooed up awaiting the operation of packing. First a sheep or goat's skin, or a piece of 
buffalo 'robe,' failing either of the former, called an 'apichimo,' is placed on its back, with the fur or hair next to that 
of the horse, and is intended to prevent galling; next the pack-saddle is put on. This miserable affair with its two little 
pillows or pads, tied into the cross-trees of woodwork, is girthed with a narrow strap of hide, which often, from the 
swaying of the load, cuts a regular gash into the poor animal's belly. Next a bale is hung on either side, and the two 
are loosely fastened together underneath the horse by a strap of raw hide. This completes the operation of 
packing, and the horse is set free, to await the general start. 

When all the animals are packed, each of the hands who are to accompany this cavalcade mounts his steed; then
waving their lassoos round their heads, and vociferating like demons, they collect the band of packed animals, and 
drive the lot before them as shepherds do a flock of sheep. The principal trader, as a general rule, takes command 
of the brigade, the journey being anticipated by both the master and his men as a kind of yearly recurring jubilee. 

To the Red Skins it is an especial treat, for during their stay at Fort Hope they meet with three or four more 
brigades, and like sailors on liberty days, get as drunk as they please, a privilege the Indians never fail to make the 
most of.

I have been rather tedious, perhaps, in thus minutely describing the system of packing in use by the Hudson's Bay 
Company, but I plead as an excuse that it will help my reader to the clearer comprehension of the systems adopted 
by 'professional packers,' who pack for money and a living. My own opinion, deduced from practical experience, is 
that the Hudson's Bay Company's system of packing is about the very worst means of conveying freight on the 
backs of animals which by any possibility could be adopted. 

The horses, as I saw them at Fort Hope, and as I have repeatedly observed them at Colville on the return of the 
Brigade, were nearly every one of them galled badly on their backs, cut under the bellies in consequence of the
sawing motion of the girth, as well as being terribly chafed with the cruppers. I tried this form of packsaddle on our 
first arrival at Vancouver Island, and as the saddles were specially made for the Commission work, the very best 
materials obtainable were used in their construction, the cross-trees were riveted, the pads stuffed with hair, and 
under each saddle, besides the cushion, I had three or four pieces of blanket placed, so as to avoid every chance 
of galling the backs of the mules. But all to no purpose; the loads will rock and work loose in spite of all the skill you 
can bring to bear, and if the pillows or pads once are saturated with wet they get as hard as stones, and in that 
state gall to a certainty.

More than this, with boxes, bales, tents, cooking gear, instruments, axes, cross-cut and pit-saws, to carry up hill and 
down dale, as we had to do every day during the cutting of the Boundary line, one might as reasonably have hoped 
to bind up loose potatoes into a transportable bundle with a straw band as to transport our heterogeneous freight 
on mules' backs, with cross-tree pack-saddles. 

I had a good deal of experience in the Crimea, during the war, in regard to different patterns of pack-saddles. One 
in particular, which was sent out from England by Government, and was said to be par excellence the very best 
thing of its kind ever invented. It is impossible to describe it, or to convey very clearly a correct idea of its 
construction. The frame was of wood arched at the pummel and cantle, bound with iron, and having affixed to it 
numbers of rings, and complicated hooks-and-eyes of the same material (the uses of which I never found anyone
able to explain), and it was padded, somewhat after the fashion of an ordinary riding-saddle, only on a rougher 
scale. What I can say of it is, that if it were desirable to make anything in the form of a packsaddle which, in every 
detail of its construction, should be worse than the cross-tree saddle, this invention, sent us whilst at the Crimea, 
came very near to, if it did not quite accomplish, the desired end.

I assert, and without fear of contradiction (from any who are practically able to offer an opinion), that no pack-saddle
having in its construction any element of woodwork is worth a straw.

However strong the wooden framework of a packsaddle may be, so that undue weight and clumsiness are avoided, 
I say it will sooner or later get broken, if used for conveyance of heavy freight, made up of packages which are of all 
shapes and sizes; such, for instance, as 'dry goods,' meaning transatlantically, drapery, hosiery, and clothing in 
general, or, what is called by packers, 'Jews' freight.' To a certain extent the cross-tree saddle serves the purposes 
of the Hudson's Bay Company better perhaps than would the form of pack-saddle I am presently going to advocate; 
and here I wish it to be clearly understood that in stating that the Hudson's Bay Company's system of 'packing' is
not a good one for the transportation of heterogeneous freight, I do not mean in the slightest degree to reflect on 
the management of that honourable Company, but I said so only as comparing the cross-tree pack-saddle with the 
aparejo. 

The Company's system of packing, when considered in reference to the work to be done, is doubtless the very best 
that could be adopted under the peculiar circumstances in which they are placed. Their freight being always made 
up into packages of a definite shape and weight, it needs no skill, or even practice, to hang them on the saddles, 
any more than it would to hang a coat upon a peg. Hence, the Company have no need of professional packers; 
more than this, the packsaddles are only used once a year, and all their transport is performed on horses instead 
of mules.

But if once the saddle-tree breaks, the cross-tree packsaddle is actually useless, and should an animal fall or roll 
with its load, a mishap of daily occurrence, then a broken saddle-tree is the usual result. Lash it with cord and 
splints, nail, or otherwise tinker up the breakage, in any manner your ingenuity may suggest, it will prove of no 
practical use; the fracture is certain to work loose, the load to shift, and if you escape without so galling the pack 
animal as to render it useless for a month, or more, you may congratulate yourself on possessing extreme good 
fortune.

In the transport service of the United States, Grimsley's pack-saddle is very frequently employed, more especially 
for outpost and exploration purposes.

This pack-saddle is simply a modification of the old fashioned 'ridge-tree packsaddle,' which is even now used by 
millers in the west of England for the conveyance of flour and grain on horse or donkey back, to and from their mills. 
Captain Marcey speaks very highly of the good qualities possessed by this packsaddle, in his admirable little book 
on travel. 

I never saw a pack-train equipped with the Grimsley's pack-saddle, hence I am unable to say anything in its praise; 
and to disparage without having first tested its qualities, good or bad, would be most unfair; nevertheless, the same 
objection (theoretically) exists in the Grimsley pack-saddle I so complain of in the cross-tree saddle, viz. the using a 
saddle-tree or frame made from wood, thereby increasing the risk of breakage. 

I have already pointed out the difficulties one has to contend with when a pack-saddle-tree is smashed. I have given 
an illustration of this United States pack-saddle, because I am disposed to think it may be found serviceable, if used 
for mule trains accompanying troops on the march, with whom there are mechanics, and materials for the repair of 
damage, ready at the shortest notice.

If one is travelling alone, with only a single horse besides the horse ridden, and on which only a few light articles are
to be packed, then perhaps a crosstree or Grimsley's saddle may be found to answer pretty well; but if the 
'wanderer' has learned to 'pack' in the proper sense of the word, even then I should advise him to do what I most 
assuredly should myself — use the aparejo.

My own conviction, deduced from long and extensive experience, is, that the aparejo comes nearer to what I 
conceive to be perfection in a packsaddle, than any other form of pack-saddle yet invented, or perhaps I should 
have said, that I have yet seen. As neither wood nor iron enters into its composition, wherever there are animals 
from which hides can be obtained, there a person can find all the materials he needs for making an aparejo, tools 
required for sewing of course excepted. 

But before saying more in praise of its many admirable qualities, it may be as well to explain how this model 
pack-saddle is constructed. Any one who has ever been in Mexico, Spain, or Northwest America, will have been 
pretty sure to have seen a mule-train, loaded with goods packed on aparejos; but unless the traveller has tried his 
hand at the work of 'packing,' and taken his place, first on the near side of the animal, and next on the off, I'll 
venture to say he could no more throw a 'riata' and rope on a load, than he would be able to walk on a tight-rope by 
simply looking at Blondin. This pack-saddle is clearly a Spanish invention, and thus found its way through Mexico 
into California and the north-western parts of America.

An aparejo may be defined to be two bags made either of dressed, or undressed hides, stuffed with dry grass, and 
fastened together at the top; take two bedpillows, sew them to each other at the one end, hang them across a 
dog's-back, or a chair will serve every purpose, and you have a rough representation of an aparejo without any 
'rigging.' The size of each cushion or bag varies somewhat in accordance with the taste or caprice of the packer by 
whom the aparejo is cut.

In like manner there are also different fashions in regard to shape; for myself, I should have each cushion 3 feet 6 
inches in length, and 2 feet 6 inches in width; the two ends to be joined together with a sharp edge, and not by 
means of an intermediate piece of leather. When joined according to my plan, the aparejo, if viewed endways, has 
the exact shape of the gable end of a house: when the bags are united by an intermediate piece of leather, the 
aparejo becomes rounded in form, or arched. In other words, my reason for giving the gable-ended aparejo the 
preference, is this — when placed on the mule's back, however weighty the load may be, it cannot be pressed down
upon it, hence there is always a space intervening betwixt the ridge of the animal's back and the angle of the 
aparejo, sufficient to allow a current of air to pass freely through, which will be found to exercise a material influence
in the prevention of blistered backs: blistering from exclusion of air, and continuous pressure, being the primary 
cause of nine sore-backs out of every ten. 

In the other case, wherein a piece of leather is used to connect the ends, I contend that the principle is bad, 
because this flat band must necessarily come down on the back of the mule, and the heavier the load the more 
tightly will this strap be brought to bear on the ridge of the spine, and, as a matter of course, the liability to produce 
sores be much more imminent.

The weight of an aparejo of the size I have given the preference to is somewhere about 30 lbs.; if wetted it will weigh
quite 50 lbs. It is stuffed with dry grass, some small twigs being first placed in the angles, to keep them stiff, and 
obviate any chance of bending, or of their being indented from the pressure of the 'riata.'

The stuffing is accomplished through a round hole, purposely cut from out the centre of the inner side of
the cushion, just where it rests on the arch of the animal's ribs, and let me warn every 'wanderer' who sets up or 
travels with a pack-train to exercise the strictest vigilance with respect to the stuffing of his aparejos. Never trust the 
packers to attend to it, unless immediately under your own surveillance. A day's neglect may gall a mule badly, 
whereas five minutes time devoted to the investigation of the stuffing prior to 'saddling up' would have prevented so 
mischievous a result. Hired packers always skulk these anything but trifling details, if they are not strictly looked 
after. 

The steam and damp from the perspiring mules condenses and collects amidst the grass composing the stuffing, 
which, when in this condition, has a strange tendency to felt itself into various-sized nobs. These, from the 
continued motion imparted to the aparejo by the regular pace of the mule, become as hard as cricket-balls, and, as 
I said before, if not removed or picked to pieces, soon make their presence known by boring, or rubbing an ugly 
hole through the poor animal's skin.

When once thoroughly up to 'working' a 'pack train,' you will notice in a moment, if you have a sharp eye — as the 
mules one by one file past you after the 'bell' — if one of them is 'galling.' When suffering pain, a mule's lips have 
invariably a tremulous twitchy motion, the ears are slanted backwards, and the teeth every now and then grind 
sharply together, producing a singular grating noise, which once heard will never be forgotten. The silent evidences
of suffering are quite as intelligible as articulate words, when one only finds out how to interpret them; a mule telling 
you that there is something wrong ought to be stopped at once, its load removed, the aparejo 'unsynched' and 
examined, and the cause of the evil remedied. An inexperienced or 'green' hand would, in all likelihood, neglect 
thus regularly to watch his train, a want of care he might have occasion to lament when unpacking at camping time.

When purchasing 'aparejos,' if you ask the price of an aparejo only, the seller will tell you perhaps 15£, or it may be 
fifty dollars each, as the price he wants. Supposing the terms are agreed on, you will find that nearly as much again 
as you have bargained to pay will be added on for 'rigging' which should always be specified in the purchase of 
aparejos; if forgotten, it is usually made a handle for subsequent unfair extortion.

When equipping the eighty mules I purchased in California for Her Majesty's Commission, I had immense difficulty to 
discover any aparejos which were for sale, as packing happened just at that time to be unusually brisk. I remember 
at Stockton, when casting about amongst the more probable localities, wherein I might by good fortune possibly 
alight upon the kind of packing gear I was in search of, a Yankee merchant, who dealt in everything from toothpicks 
upwards, came rushing after me, having scented my business as readily as a raven or a vulture would have done a 
dead carcass. He began at once in nasal drawl — 

	'Say, cap, you are just a foolin' your time; bet your pants, thar ain't narry aparejo down har, 
	fit to pack squash on.'

	'Well,' I replied, 'how can I tell that unless I inquire?'

	'Waal, I raither guess you want to buy, and I want to sell, so just let us two take an eye-opener, 
	cap, and then make tracks straight a-head for my store, war I can show you sich a lot of aparejos 
	as you ain't ever seen afore in these parts; I ain't showed em to none of the boys as yet, guess if 
	I did they'd have the store down slick; give me fifty dollars a-piece for the aparejos, rigging and all, 
	and walk right along with 'em to the bluffs.'

Considering this rather good news, I did 'liquor up' with my new friend, and afterwards adjourned to the store, most 
anxious to secure what I imagined was a valuable prize. Picture my intense disgust when, on being conducted into a 
cellar, I saw a huge pile of packsaddles, such as had been sent to the Crimea and returned, and which this 
speculative individual had picked up cheaply as a consignment from England.

I have already shown how utterly useless these trashy and badly made saddles were in the Crimea, an opinion fully 
confirmed by this somewhat singular discovery that in the very centre of the busiest 'packing' country, perhaps I 
may safely say in the world, not an individual packer could be found who would take them even as a gift. The 'cute' 
dealer, imagining he had for once in his life stumbled on a 'sucker,' tried to palm them off on me as aparejos 'that 
couldn't be matched.'

It 'took him down,' though, when I winked wickedly, and, inventing a slight fiction for the occasion, said, 'Why, these 
are the pack-saddles we sold off when the Crimean war ended; I know the lot right well; they are not worth that.' 
I snapped my fingers, turned on my heel, and left my friend astonished, and two drinks (50 cents.) out of pocket. So 
much for Crimean packsaddles. Two years afterwards I heard that the unfortunate dealer still possessed them.

The rigging consists of sundry articles, each of which will require a brief description as we pass them in review one 
by one.

The 'riata' binding, or lashing cord, should be from fifty to sixty yards in length, in one piece, the size of which should
be inch rope, or a trifle less will do. The more angular and clumsy the freight is which has to be packed the longer 
will the riata be required. The ends should be neatly secured with fine twine, and there ought not to be any join or 
other inequality of surface; if there is, the rope will not 'run' freely, and at the same time do a good deal of injury to 
the packer's hands; this will be the more readily comprehended when we come to the system of securing the load. 

The sling rope is a much smaller and shorter cord than is the riata; its length for ordinary freight should be from
twenty-five to thirty feet, and quarter-inch rope is usually sufficiently strong. This rope is used to sling or suspend 
the load. With these two ropes the load is so firmly secured as to defy any ordinary casualty to displace or otherwise
disturb it, and that without loop, hook, buckle, or fastening of any kind of, or belonging to the aparejo.

The aparejo is secured to the mule by the synch, b2, which consists of a piece of stout canvas doubled and sewn 
strongly together, from seven to twelve feet long, and twelve inches wide. At one end of this girth a leather strap is 
attached, whilst at the other either an iron ring or, what is far better, a small piece of hard wood naturally grown into 
a bow shape, the two ends being sewn into the canvas; an eye or concave space is by this plan left in the centre for
the leather strap, which should be kept well greased to make it run through easily.

In 'synching up,' two or three turns of the strap must be taken round the eye, in order to avoid the risk of its slipping 
back, when the strain is taken off in order to fasten it, which is done by passing the free end through a loop 
purposely sewn to that part of the synch which comes underneath the load, and then passing the end beneath the 
strap itself. If it were to be tied, nothing short of cutting the strap would ever loose it. Synches are sometimes made 
from Mexican grass; they are always expensive, and in no respect superior to canvas.

Placed on the mule's back, and answering the purpose of the ordinary lining, fixed to English riding and 
packsaddles, are the blankets (e), corona (c),and sweat-cloth (e).

The 'blankets' are four or five pieces of thick woollen material. Blanket is better than anything else, although soft 
carpet answers the purpose; the size of each piece should be about three feet square, although this is not very 
material; if more or less, it will not matter much.

The sweat-cloth goes next the skin, and ought to consist of good canvas, and should not be less than four feet 
square. The 'corona' (c) goes over all the cloths, and under the aparejo. This is quite a fancy affair, which is usually
braided and embroidered, and made of scarlet or some other bright-coloured cloth. Often the initials or the brand 
mark of the owner are emblazoned on the corners, like heraldic devices. This, however, answers a purpose, and is 
not done merely for show. By the 'corona' the packers know to which mule each aparejo belongs, so that the right 
mule always wears the right saddle.

An ordinary halter, of the same shape and make as we use for horses in England, must be provided for each mule; 
the halters are only worn whilst the mules are travelling, and are then indispensable, inasmuch as that the packers 
could never catch a mule with a loose or shifting load if it had not a halter on its head for the men to seize. No one, 
excepting from actual experience, would believe how crafty old pack animals become; they know in a moment if the 
packers want to recover them, and scamper away, often shaking the freight clear of the ropes, and doing 
incalculable damage. In the second place, halters are equally essential, for the purpose of fastening all the mules 
together during the time they are waiting to be packed, as you will better understand when we come to 'pack our 
train.'

The last portion of the rigging is the blind, or 'tapujo.' Each packer carries one of these subduers, and no 
schoolboys ever lived in greater dread of cane or birch than do the mules of the tapujo. Made of leather, its length 
is about fifteen or eighteen inches, its width about six inches in the centre, then tapering gradually away at its ends 
to sharp points, which are fastened together; from each of the points dangle sundry small twisted leather thongs, 
like a 'cat' of eighteen tails instead of nine. Exactly in the centre of the tapujo a loop is sewn, through which the 
packer passes his fingers, and when thus armed, woe betide the unruly mule which is guilty of any transgression. 

This is one of the tapujo's uses, but it is principally employed to 'blind' the mules whilst anything is done to them. 
Simply by dropping it behind the animal's ears, and allowing the wider part to fall over the eyes, it at once and most 
easily prevents the mule from seeing what the packers are up to; and when this dreaded affair is fairly on, you might
as well attempt to make a log move as induce a blinded mule to shift its position. So much for the complete rigging 
of a pack-mule. The next thing we have to look to are saddles and bridles for the 'riding mules.'

End of Excerpt.
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