Whoa! Whoa!"
On Monday morning I too captured me a mule. He was not a fast mule,
and I soon found out that he thought he knew as much as I did. He was
wise in his own conceit. He had a propensity to take every hog path he
came to. All the bombasting that I could give him would not make him
accelerate his speed. If blood makes speed, I do not suppose he had a
drop of any kind in him. If I wanted him to go on one side of the road
he was sure to be possessed of an equal desire to go on the other side.
Finally I and my mule fell out. I got a big hickory and would frail
him over the head, and he would only shake his head and flop his ears,
and seem to say, "Well, now, you think you are smart, don't you?"
He was a resolute mule, slow to anger, and would have made an excellent
merchant to refuse bad pay, or I will pay your credit, for his whole
composition seemed to be made up the one word--no. I frequently thought
it would be pleasant to split the difference with that mule, and I would
gladly have done so if I could have gotten one-half of his no. Me and
mule worried along until we came to a creek. Mule did not desire to
cross, while I was trying to persuade him with a big stick, a rock in his
ear, and a twister on his nose.
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