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 tha............