jinx became the greatest plaything that org and little bit possessed. he could not fatten, but under the care and treatment he received he acquired a little more interest in life, and showed quite a fondness for his youthful owner.
gaitskill laughed, and decided that the mule would keep org out of mischief, which would justify the cost of its keep. tickfall smiled at the sight of a little boy sitting on a big saddle while a diminutive black boy sat behind him, proud of his position and waving a greeting to all his black friends as he passed. org and little bit would not have swapped jinx for an automobile.
“a automobile gits out of fix,” little bit said as they discussed this one day. “when she stops nothin’ kin make her go. ef somepin gits de matter wid it, nobody knows whut ails her.”
“but this mule is different,” org said proudly. “i like something that wags its tail.”
“dis hay-burner suits me,” little bit agreed.
they found to their delight that jinx was thoroughly familiar with that great jungle called the little moccasin swamp. the boys could ride out to that swamp upon jinx and turn into any path which led into the jungle. the mule would carry them for miles along the winding animal trails, and then to their surprise they would find themselves in the highway again. they explored recesses in that swamp which they could never have reached without the mule, and they were never uneasy about losing their way.
they found great pools of water where large fish swam that were easily visible to the eye, and apparently unafraid. they found great sinks of vegetation where ugly snakes crawled, and they learned that jinx could smell a snake as far as the eye could see, and that he had no desire to get near enough to be bitten. they saw immense turtles sunning themselves upon the logs and stumps. they found droves of wild pigs, extremely dangerous to man when he was standing upon his two feet, but harmless when a four-footed animal carried them upon his back.
hence arose this matter of debate between them: can a wild hog count? if he cannot, how does he know the difference between two legs and four legs?
they found an eagle’s nest, came too near, and were followed for miles by a screaming bird which swooped down upon them, fanned her immense wings within an inch of their hats, and snapped her vicious beak in their faces with a noise like the snip of immense shears. once they saw a panther crouched upon a live-oak limb, his eyes glowing in the jungle shadows like living rubies; the animal screamed at them—the only thing which ever extracted a burst of speed from jinx. they were followed for miles as they went out of that swamp by that screaming, snarling, hissing, spitting cat.
once little bit turned around and made a noise like an exploding pop-bottle, a method which he had found efficacious in frightening domestic cats away. the vocal answer to little bit’s elocutionary effort was so terrifying that jinx nearly jumped out of his skin.
then one day, on the edge of a little clearing, they found a six-foot alligator asleep in the sun.
they dismounted and walked closer. the alligator slept on.
“how close can we get to this thing before he wakes up, little bit?” org asked.
“he’s awake right now,” little bit told him. “he pretends like he’s so sleepy he’s mighty nigh dead, but he knows we is here all right. but he won’t move till you gits right on him, close enough to tech him wid yo’ hand.”
“what’ll he do then?” org wanted to know.
“he’ll slap his tail aroun’ and knock yo’ foots out from under you an’ bite yo’ leg plum’ off,” little bit informed him. “he’s layin’ dar now waitin’ fer a wild pig to come rootin’ aroun’ him like wild pigs does aroun’ logs. den he’ll slap ’em wid his tail an’ bite ’em in two.”
the boys backed away, climbed upon the trunk of a fallen tree, and looked across the underbrush at the alligator. he was as still as an old rusty stove-pipe, which he somewhat resembled.
“less take that rope off our saddle and rope him,” org suggested. “they rope everything in california, cattle and everything.”
“who’s gwine put dat rope aroun’ dat alligator?” little bit asked.
“you can do that,” org replied as he untied the rope from the saddle.
“mebbe i kin, but i ain’t gwine to,” little bit asserted, climbing up on the back of the mule. “little bit don’t choose but a little bit of alligator in his’n. dis mule don’t hanker fer none.”
“all right, ’fraid-cat,” org taunted. “you hold the mule, and i’ll throw the rope.”
like most boys who had lived in the west, org had often played with a rope, looping it and throwing it in imitation of the cowmen. he climbed upon a trunk of a fallen tree about thirty feet from the quiescent alligator, coiled the rope, and threw it with wonderful luck. the coil straightened, and the open loop fell right in front of the alligator.
in the less remote sections the alligator is fearful, for it has learned the menace of man. but this one had possibly never seen a human being before. when the rope fell it moved forward a few feet and became quiet again. org gave the rope a quick jerk, and the loop caught under one of the alligator’s front feet and over his head. org was standing by a limb upon the fallen tree, bracing himself to keep his balance. quickly he twisted his end of the rope around the limb and tied it.
the creature was still unaware that it was captive. org threw a few branches from the tree in its direction, and it crawled slowly forward a few feet. at last it came to the end of the rope.
a hoarse, coughlike bark rang through the forest, and instantly that six-foot alligator was a snarling fury as it entered into combat with its bonds. for ten minutes the two frightened boys beheld the most terrifying spectacle they had ever imagined. org scuttled down from the treetrunk and took refuge with little bit upon the back of the mule, making ready for instant flight.
within a radius of that rope the alligator beat down the marsh-grass as flat as if a road-rolling machine had passed over it. he got into the low underbrush and pounded it down, making a noise like an express train with his powerful clawing feet and his slapping tail. he roared and raised himself almost upright on his tail, and clawed at the rope with his front feet as a man would fight with his hands, and snapped his great jaws together like the slapping of two clapboards.
but he could never succeed in getting the rope between his teeth, for the reason that he could not turn his head or lower his chin. finally, in an awful burst of fury, he threw himself backward, rolled over and over, slapping, thrashing, clawing, snarling, uttering awful coughlike barks to which a thousand echoes in the forest responded in kind. the boys wondered at the creature’s catlike agility, shuddered at the concentrated venomous fury of the battle, quivered with awe at the agonizing, snarling vociferation emitted from between those terrible, gnashing, snapping teeth.
yet the very configuration of the woods fought for the boys. the rope was constantly taut, for the reason that it could hardly be moved without becoming entangled with roots and cypress knees and the tough underbrush and the clinging, almost unbreakable vines called bamboo. the struggle against these obstacles slowly exhausted the alligator’s strength.
at last he sank down and remained quiet.
after a while the boys mustered their courage and crept forward to see. they found their captive had twisted the rope around the cypress knees and projecting roots until he was tied to the ground and helpless. his eyes were not sleepy now. they glowed with baleful flames, ugly, piglike, with glints of green in their fires of fury. the big mouth gaped wide when he saw the boys, and the jaws snapped with frightful force.
after a consultation, the two boys ran across the clearing to a switch-cane jungle and cut two long cane poles. returning with these, they began to prod and torment the alligator, thrusting the poles into his mouth when he opened it; and when he no longer would let them look at his tongue, they still pursued their medical examination by punching him in every place where they thought he might have a particularly tender spot.
this roused him to another performance, a fury of struggle in which he fought and roared and barked and clawed at the rope, and thrashed with his tail, and chased the two boys up a tree until his activities abated.
all day long they tormented the alligator, exhausting every resource in their efforts to get him, as they expressed it, “to cut up some more.” but after five or six hours there was no more fight in him.
when the alligator showed plainly that he had made positively his last appearance as an entertainer, the boys decided it was time to start for home.
“how we gwine git our rope back?” little bit asked.
“let that old sucker keep his old rope. i don’t want it,” org said, wiping the sweat from his face on the sleeve of his shirt and sitting down in utter weariness.
“marse tom will bust us ef we leaves dat rope out in dese here woods,” little bit warned him. “ropes comes high in de store ef you got to pay fer ’em.”
“i’ll tell uncle tom where it is, and let him come after it when he wants it,” org replied.
“you better not let dat white man know we been out here monkeyin’ wid a alligator,” little bit said. “he’ll sell our mule an’ put me in jail an’ flay de hide offen you.”
“that’s so,” org agreed. “well, the old alligator is nearly dead. let’s tie our end of the rope to the saddle and make old jinx drag the alligator up to the house. then when he dies we can get the rope off him.”
little bit agreed to this, and it was not hard to do. they had whipped the alligator until there was no more fight in him, and wearied him until there was not more strength to fight. their hardest work was untwisting the rope, for as they got nearer to the alligator they had to pry the rope from around the roots and snags with a pole. they never got the courage to get close to those jaws which had snapped at them so terribly.
jinx did not object to a little light hauling when a white boy walked on one side and a black boy on the other, acting as escort of honor. the alligator was easily dragged over the marsh-grass and along the animal trails toward the town. although dragged for over three miles, he at no time showed resistance or attempted to “cut up.”
in the rear of the gaitskill stables there was a large pig-pen, to which admittance was gained by a gate. org led the mule in such a way that the alligator faced the gate. then he led the mule around to the other side of the pen, led him forward, and thus dragged the alligator through the open gate.
then the boys took a rake, hung one of the teeth through the loop in the rope, and by considerable juggling they managed to make the loop loose and large.
“now, if he kicks around any before he dies, he’ll walk out of that rope,” org announced. “then we won’t have to say anything about it.”
“dat big old animile ain’t gwine die,” little bit chuckled. “us ain’t hurt him none, an’ by dis time to-morrer he’ll be ready to fix fer anodder fight.”
“i’m through fighting alligators,” org said wearily. “i never was as hungry and tired in my life. but we’ll keep this old sucker in his pen and make him our pet alligator.”
