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 K............