when org stopped in front of the court-house and placed the twelve dollars in the auctioneer’s sweating, dirt-begrimed palm, that functionary bellowed:
“twelve, i’m bid, once! twelve, i’m bid, twice! twelve, i’m bid, three times, and sold! sold to this boy for twelve dollars! go git your mule, son!”
the auctioneer sought a convenient place to quench a consuming thirst. old jinx stood in the middle of the street, his eyes closed, his big, loose ears hanging down like a couple of banana-leaves that had broken and were flapping down around the stalk of the plant. org caught hold of one big ear and spoke down into its fuzzy, dusty depth, exactly as a man speaks into the mouth-piece of a telephone:
“hello, hello! wake up!”
little bit placed the end of a small leading-rope into org’s hands and announced:
“you done bought a mule, marse org. whut you gwine do wid him?”
“what?” org asked.
“you cain’t leave dis here mule standin’ still an’ blockin’ up de street,” little bit explained. “dey’ll arrest dis mule an’ put him in de holdover like dey does all de stray cows, an’ it’ll cost you five dollars to git him out.”
“i haven’t got any five dollars,” org announced. “that man took all the money i had.”
“i reckin we better lead him somewheres,” little bit laughed.
“help me up on him,” org commanded. “i want to ride him now.”
“you ain’t got no bridle,” little bit demurred. “dat mule ain’t know whar you want him to go ’thout no bridle onless you kin gee-haw him, an’ you ain’t know nothin’ about ploughin’. an’ he’ll shore take you back whar he came from ef you ain’t guide him somewhar else.”
“i guess we better go ahead of him and show him the way,” org proposed. then gazing at the closed eyes, he said: “i guess we better take him home and let him take a nap; he looks awful sleepy to me.”
“he’s like a nigger,” little bit snickered. “a mule an’ a nigger kin sleep standin’ up an’ walkin’!”
at the foot of the hill near the gaitskill home, jinx uttered a loud groan and sank down upon his side, slapping the earth with a jolt that shook the ground under their feet.
“dar now, he shore come down wid a looseness like he’s fixin’ to die,” little bit exclaimed. “ef he dies here in dis town, it’ll cost you fo’ dollars to hab him hauled away.”
“i haven’t got four dollars,” org replied, and then ran down the street, waving his arms at an automobile.
the machine stopped and dr. moseley leaned out and listened:
“doctor, i know you ain’t a mule physician, but i just bought a big mule and he’s took sick and if he dies it’ll cost a lot of money to have him hauled off. i ain’t got the money to have him hauled away, and so you must come and keep him from dying.”
“got any money to pay my doctor’s bill?” the physician asked.
“no, sir.”
“got any money to pay for medicine to cure your mule?”
“no, sir.”
“charity patient, by jacks!” the physician grinned.
“no, sir,” org protested. “me and my mule will pay. whenever your automobile breaks down, i’ll let you ride my mule!”
no offer could be fairer, so org swung up on the foot-board and rode with the obliging physician to the sick-bed of the mule. that able physician had once been all-boy himself, and he understood.
“bless my soul, if it ain’t jinx!” he laughed as he drew near the prostrate animal. after a moment’s examination he added: “that mule is hungry, boys. feed him! feed him quick! feed him high! repeat the dose three times a day before each meal!”
laughing, he turned his automobile and went off.
two hours passed while the boys were getting feed and watching jinx eat. they did not mind waiting. they sat on the curb in great contentment, discussing their purchase and planning for the future. several men and women passed and stopped to chat with the boys, attracted by the novelty of a mule lying on the side of a road attended by two small boys. without exception they recognized jinx, for that mule was an established institution in tickfall.
when jinx got up the hill to the gaitskill home he appeared very familiar with the place. in fact, he had been one of the gaitskill mules several times in his varied career, and had found few other places where he had been as well treated.
“i guess we better let him stay in the front yard to-night, little bit,” org said as he opened the gate and turned the animal in upon the gaitskill lawn. “he’s too feeble to walk back as far as the stable, and i haven’t got any more time to fool with this mule. all our family are going to eat at captain kerley kerlerac’s home to-night.”
the boys walked back together, separating at the court-house, and little bit went to the hen-scratch saloon.
he found skeeter butts in charge—told the story of jinx, incidentally remarking that the whole gaitskill family had gone to kerlerac’s to eat dinner with his “boss.”
this last information pleased skeeter butts very much. he went out in the rear of the saloon to be by himself and think it over.
“dat rabbit-foot is as good as got back already. i knows all about marse tom’s house. i done wucked in dat house so much dat i could walk eve’ywhar in it wid my eyes shut.”
about that time hopey prophet informed dazzle zenor of the absence of the gaitskill family that evening. she knew the house, knew the people, and while she had not quite the liberty of an old family retainer, she fixed her plans to take this opportunity to raid the house.
“i’ll git dat foot certain,” she answered.
skeeter waited impatiently until nine o’clock, then lighted a cigarette and sauntered out of the saloon. under ordinary circumstances he would have entered the gaitskill house from the rear. but, knowing that no one was at home, he came to the front porch and entered the front door. once inside the house, he became extremely cautious. no use making a noise, even if there was no one to hear except himself.
it was very dark in the reception room, and while skeeter was familiar with the house, and was sure that he was alone in it, he did not care to disarrange any furniture, and still less did he wish to fall over something and break it. he crept silently up the stairs and paused within a few feet of the room he intended to enter.
he heard a sound. listening for a moment, he decided that someone was moving in the house, and that he had better not try to secure the rabbit-foot that night. his close-clipped hair stood up on his head like pig bristles as he began to retreat, and he lost no time in beating his way back to the hall below. he started to open the front door and escape that way, but on the second thought he decided it would be safer to go out through the kitchen.
as he passed into the back hall he heard some one coming down the steps of the back stairs. he crouched in a corner, waiting for the person to descend. whoever it was, passed within a few feet of him, crossed the kitchen, and went out of the door. skeeter noiselessly followed.
once safely outside the house a senseless panic struck him, and he shot around the corner toward the front at full speed. on the walk in front of the house he collided with a terrible force with something, the impact jarring every bone in his body, and for a moment knocking him breathless, senseless. the second party in the collision, with a whistling expiration of breath sank limply against skeeter butts. he thrust out his arms and embraced a woman!
skeeter was fond of the lady folks, and was usually chivalrous. but on this occasion he “dropped” the lady right there; cut her dead, so to speak. and started across the lawn at a speed never before attained by his pedal extremities.
skeeter traveled crawfish fashion; he went forward, but he looked back. he turned to see where he was going, and there suddenly loomed before him a big, black object which looked to him as large as a house.
it was jinx, lying on the ground.
skeeter hit the front end of jinx first and fell sprawlingly forward, and his arms and legs, outspread, were spraddled across jinx’s bony back. the startled mule, aroused from his slumber, bellowed like a cow and began to get up, rising in bony sections, like a folding ladder.
for a moment skeeter hung on to a few protruding bones, then he emitted a little whimpering sigh, slided off the bony sides of the ever-rising mountain, and lay flat upon the ground. the second collision had knocked him out.
skeeter did not lose consciousness. he just lost breath. it was a long time before he rallied sufficiently to sit up, and when he did he heard a woman weeping softly.
“who is dat onwindin’ dat bawl?” skeeter inquired softly.
“dis here is me,” the woman answered, which was enough for skeeter, for he knew that voice.
“whut wus you doin’ in dat house, dazzle?” skeeter asked, when he found her in the dark, sitting on the bottom step of the porch.
“i wus tryin’ to git dat rabbit-foot,” she said simply.
“how come you know about dat foot?”
“hopey tole me. i wants de money mustard is put up to git it back.”
“i wants dem dollars, too,” skeeter laughed. “less go in togedder an’ ’vide up de money even-stephen.”
“i takes you on,” dazzle said, finding comfort in her grief.
“not no more to-night,” skeeter said. “dar’s a mule runnin’ loose in dis yard as big as a battleship. i butted him like a torpedo.”
“whut happened?” dazzle asked.
“i wus jinxed,” skeeter said simply. “less go home.”
