The road was rough and rocky, with a
mud-hole now and then of rather uncertain depth. At every one of these
mud-holes the Captain's mule would stop, put down his head, blow his
nose and look wise, and then carefully sound the miniature sea with his
fore-feet, being altogether too cautious to suit his rider who had never
been accustomed to a craft that was afraid of water.
At one of these performances the mule evidently concluded the sea before
him was not safe, for when the captain tried to persuade him to cross
his persuasions had no effect. Then he coaxed him with voice gentle,
soft and low, with the result that the little animal took a few very
short steps and then came to anchor again. Then the captain began to get
slightly roiled in temper, and the voice was not so gentle, sweet and
low, but it had no greater effect upon his craft. He began to get
anxious, for the others had gone on, and he thought perhaps he might be
left.
Now, this sea-faring man had armed his heels with the large Spanish
spurs so common in the country, and bringing them in contact with the
force due to considerable impatience, Mr. Mule was quite suddenly and
painfully aware of the result. This was harsher treatment than he could
peaceably submit to, and at the second application of the spurs a pair
of small hoofs were very high in the air and the captain very low on his
back in the mud and water, having been blown from the hurricane deck of
his craft in a very sudden and lively style.
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