Democratic Sentinel, Volume 14, Number 36, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 3 October 1890 — SEARCHING FOR A STOLEN MULE. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

SEARCHING FOR A STOLEN MULE.

BY FIL DOOZER.

1 GENTLEMAN wa« traveling through the central portion of Missouri in quest of a stolen mule. He jogged along at an indifferent pace, making inquiries ocicasionally regarding his lost animal. About four .o’clock in the afternoon he rode up to a fence in a neighborhood

known as Blind Pony Bulge. A man was on the inside of the fence hacking and slashing around in some tall weeds with an old scythe that was entirely too dull to accomplish very much. The traveler addressed him very politely, aud, after introducing himself, desired to know if the farmer had noticed anything of a strange mule during the last few days. “Naw,” said the man. “Been none az I’ve seed Yer didn’t ’spose this naborhood waz harborin’ other people’s stock, did yer?” “Oh, no,” replied the stranger. “Wall, guess yer better not,” said the wood-cutter. “The people what lives in this naborhood air quiet au peaceful. I waz jist goin’ ter say yer couldn’t git down offen that ere boss an’ say enybody in these parts waz a-harborin’ strange mules.” “I merely asked for information,” replied the traveler; “I had no intention of insinuating that any one was trying to harbor my mule.”

“Wall, that’s all right, stranger. We don’t want no man ter come here an’ say this ain’t no ’onest naborhood.” “As I was going to say,” remarked the gentleman, “I had a gray mule stolen several nights ago, and back there at town I got information which led me to conclude that mv animal had been brought in this direction.” “See here, straDger, don’t yer cast no reflections on tbis ’ere naborhood!” “Indeed, sir, I had no idea of doing such a thing.” “Good thing yer didn’t, ’cause no man could git down offen hiz hoss where I waz an’ cast slurs on this ’ere naborhood. We are quiet, law-’bidin’ citizens here, we are.” “I merely desired to know if you had noticed anyone riding, driving, or leading a strange mule.” “An’yer didn’t mean to put a bad name on this ’ere naborhood?” “Why, certainly not.” “Mighty good thing yer didn’t, mister. No man could git down offen his hoss an’ say enything agin this ’ere naborhood.” “Ah, well, I understand all that, but have you seen anything of a strang mule ?” “Didn’t think I’d keep it a secret, did yer, if I had a seed one ?” “I did not suppose you would mention it unless I said something about it. That was .why I asked,” retorted the stranger, as he began to display indications of growing impatient. “Look here, stranger, do you mean to ’cuse me ov knowin’ sometin’ erbout yer mule an’ not wantin’ ter tell it?” “I meant nothing of the kind. I meant it would not be reasonable for you to say anything about having seen a strange mule until I first asked you.” “Mighty good thing yer didn’t try to make it ’pear that this ’ere was not a ’onest naborhood. No man could git down offen his hoss where I waz an’ say enything agin this ere visinity.” “I am not on a mission of insulting neighborhoods. lam in quest of my stolen mule. If you can give me any information I will be very thankful.” “Stranger, did yer mule have on only three shoes?” “Only three.” “Waz he sorter lame in the left foreleg ?” “He was, slightly lame in the left foreleg. ”

“ W azn’t one ov liiz foreteeth naissin’ ?” “One of his upper foreteeth was gone. ” “Didn’t he have a lump on hiz right shoulder ?” “He did.” “Wasn’t one ov hiz ears a leetle shorter than t’other?” “Yes.” “Wall, I don’t know er blame thing erbout yer mule.” “Why, how is that? You seem to know a great deal about him.” “Look here, mister, don’t yer ’spute my word. That’s sumthin’ I don’t low no man ter do. Es a man waz to git down offen hiz hoss an’ call me a liar, me an’ him would lock horns right then an’ thar.” “That’s all right about your locking horns, but I would like to know how you can describe my mule so well and yet say you don’t know anything about him.” “Mister, I tak that az jist az good az callin’ me a liar. Yer can’t git down offen that ere hoss an’ say it agin.” “You're a fool.” “Yer can’t git down offen that ” The traveler threw his bridle reins over a fence stake, was onto the ground in a jffy, hopped over the fence, grabbed a rail and started for his man. While the traveler was going through these moves, the weed-cutter was making preparations to get away from there. It was a lively race. The stranger just chased that fellow out of that lot, down through the pasture, across a small patch of corn and into the brush—but he never caught him. In coming back, the stranger .picked up the man’s hat and hung it on a post. When he had mounted his horse and started away the weed-cutter emerged from the brush about 200 yards distant and yelled: “Say, mister, yer can’t git down offen that hoss an’—ketch me!”

», In a Good Cause. Amazed mother—What does this mean, miss?- The idea of allowing a young man to hug and kiss you that way!” Sweet girl—Oh, it’s all right, ma. Mr. Nicefello gives me a penny a hug, and it’s all to he applied toward raising the mortgage on our church.”— ( New York Weekly .