On A Donkey's Hurricane Deck

<h3><SPAN name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX.</SPAN> <br/>A donkey for Alderman</h3> <p class="toclink"><SPAN href="#TOC-II">TOC</SPAN></p> <p class="center">BY PYE POD.</p> <div class="poembox"> <div class="stanzaleft"> <div class="verse0">Full in the midst the polish'd table shines,</div> <div class="verse0">And the bright goblets, rich with generous wines;</div> <div class="verse0">Now each partakes the feast, the wine prepares,</div> <div class="verse0">Portions the food, and each the portion shares;</div> <div class="verse0">Nor till the rage of thirst and hunger ceased</div> <div class="verse0">To the high host approached the sagacious guest.</div> </div> <cite class="citeright">—Homer's Odyssey.</cite></div> <p>I left my embryo caravan in Oak Park for the night, and returned to the Auditorium Hotel. The clerk greeted me with, "Well! well!" grasped my outstretched hand, and with a smile said, "I thought your picturesqueness had left us for good." Then, pulling a pen out of the vegetable pen-stand which squinted "How to do?" with one remaining eye, he handed it to me.</p> <p>"I'm a hard customer to get rid of," I remarked; "could not get out of the city entirely this day, though I've traveled miles—jacks at Oak Park—saloon barn, best I could find—no hotel—got to eat and sleep, you know." And having said this, I walked majestically to the "lift."</p> <p>"Seventh floor?" queried the elevator boy.</p> <p>"No—dining room," I corrected, patting my stomach fondly.</p> <p>"Pretty late for feed, guess," observed the lad discouragingly, as we began to rise.</p> <p>"There's a banquet on now," continued the lad.</p> <p>"Great Balaam! I am late!" I exclaimed. "I've been a week saving my appetite for this dinner. Let 'er slide kid—there!" and I hurried to the dining-room.</p> <p>I knocked persistently against the locked doors, while savory odors drifted through the keyhole, and was soon admitted by the assistant head-waiter. I smile now as I recall that watermelon grin, when the darkey yawned like a coalbin in expression of his greeting.</p> <p>"I'm somewhat embarrassed, Jim, to appear so tardy," I began, "I had about decided to deny myself the honor and pleasure of the event. You see, my friends are all togged out in their pigeon-tails, while—just look at me."</p> <p>"Why, Mistah 'Tagras, shuah dey will be glad to—"</p> <p>"Yes, yes, I know they would be more pleased to see me in my odd regulation clothes; but no, not this time, Jim; close your scuttle—mum's the word. Just let me eat in this snug corner where I can hear the strains of the orchestra, out of reach of their stale jokes. Fetch on the viands." As I concluded I pressed a coin into the mahogany hand, and took from my coat a button containing Mac's and Pod's photo, and gave it to the delighted darkey.</p> <p>There was novelty in this strange situation. It was the only feast I remembered ever having attended uninvited.</p> <p>Across the spacious hall, obscured by Japanese screens, sat the garrulous banqueters, blissfully ignorant of my presence, while I, a famished and jaded nomad, sat comfortably drinking in the liquid music of the serenade and inflating my gastronomical pipes with terrapin, squab, robin's eggs, salads and other dainties galore.</p> <p>Presently I was served with something more mellifluous than music, as Jim appeared with a bottle of that familiar sparkling liquid, which is proverbially wrapped in cobwebs and frost, in a pail of ice, and said: "Believe yo' sayed Mumm, Sah—be dis yo' taste, Mistah 'Tagras?" My eyes eloquently expressed my sentiments. Oh, what a nerve tissue a donkey journey does create! As I quaffed the soul-stirring nectar, I thought of Mac A'Rony—how he would have relished a quart of that sterling brand!—and then poured a bumper for him and drank it to his very good health.</p> <p>When I had finished, I called the waiter and said, with visible effort: "Jim, I wish—hic—you would tell th' bandmaster (here Jim poked a napkin into his mouth), that a tardy guest—hic—heartily requests the pat—patriotic—hic tune Macaroni's come to town. Go, Jim, that's a good girl." And Jim went.</p> <p>That waiter was the cleverest darkey I ever came across. We all well know that one trait of a thoroughbred darkey is the faculty for invention. Imagine my surprise when the fellow returned with a gentleman in full dress and introduced me. I, expecting to catch something different, failed to catch his name.</p> <p>My new acquaintance seemed to feel highly honored with the presentation. He appeared a bit staggered, though, and with difficulty found my wandering hand. Taking my arm, he escorted and introduced me to the convivial assembly as the distinguished guest of the evening—"though somewhat belated, nevertheless his genial presence duly appreciated."</p> <p>When he mentioned the name of Professor Pythagoras Pod such applause issued from the unsteady occupants of the hundred chairs that I, thinking it my courteous duty to join in the encore, clapped my hands vigorously. This seemed to provoke great merriment. The laughter and clapping grew louder and louder, until hands and throats were inadequate to express the jubilant spirits of the banqueters, and they began to stamp their feet. Finally all arose, threw in the air imaginary hats, broke glasses of wine, and, in fact, I don't know what would have happened if the manager had not entered the scene.</p> <p>Finally, some one called, "Speech! Speech! A speech from Mr. Pod!" I tried to respond. I didn't believe the guests knew who I was, other than a pod of some sort. The hotel manager did, but he had gone. I therefore decided not to reveal my identity; I would act the invited guest I was taken to be.</p> <p>I did not speak long. What I said was ostensibly so appropriate, so pointed, so witty, so apropos, that the frequent cries of "Hear! Hear!" told me I had made a hit, and it was time to stop. I have no recollection of what I said on that momentous occasion, but I apologized for the abruptness of my departure on the plea that I had six more banquets to attend that evening, whereas I had but one stomach.</p> <p>Wild cheers and handclapping greeted my speech. When quiet was restored I offered the following toast, asking all to rise with filled goblets:</p> <p>Hic—here's to the man, boys, here's to the man<br/> Who—hic—has the sagacity, gall, and who can<br/> Partake of the bless—hics—of earth, though unbidden,<br/> Without revealing the jack—hic—he has ridden;<br/> Here's to—hic—his pocket and here's to—hic—his purse—<br/> May Balaam shed tears when—hic—he rides in a hearse.<br/></p> <p>With a concerted "Bravo!" all drank my health. Then, hat in hand, I followed a very tortuous route out and to the elevator, and soon afterward found the keyhole of my chamber door, and retired.</p> <p>I did not feel well in the morning, but nevertheless journeyed to Oak Park at an early hour.</p> <p>What a surprise awaited me at the barn! The air was dense with the odor of beer. I had hardly anticipated trouble brewing; nothing was so foreign to my thoughts as the possibility of finding two asinine inebriates and a "jagged" canine instead of the sober company I left the evening before.</p> <p>But there they lay, both donkeys paralyzed, panting and blear-eyed. An overturned beer keg swam in the deluge of froth that flooded the floor. Mac must have pulled the bung out of the keg. The fellow looked guilty enough, but, when I recalled my own recent dissipation, I didn't have the heart to upbraid him.</p> <p>I was perplexed. What could I do? To resume my pilgrimage that morning was out of the question. I felt in my bones that as soon as the saloonkeeper learned of the calamity, I, Pythagoras Pod, would have to pay damages. Such I could not well afford. Why not go to the man and enter a complaint against him for harboring knock-out drops, and consequently causing my valuable animals ruination of mind, physique and moral character?</p> <p>A capital idea! No sooner thought than done. The man was speechless.</p> <p>"Why!" I exclaimed, pounding my fist hard down on the oaken bar, "think of it! a day's delay may lose me my five thousand dollar wager. THINK OF IT, MAN! FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS!!" I would have said more, but I noticed the Hibernian was knocked completely out of the metaphorical ring by my unequivocal utterances. His blanched countenance showed that his conscience smote him. He paced the barroom floor like a leopard trying to get away from his spots. Presently he stopped, and, thrusting his fingers through his goatee, looked out in time to witness Mac A'Rony turn a headspring from the barn door.</p> <p>"Begorry!" he exclaimed, "if Oi hod that mule, Oi'd ruun 'im for alderman of the Tinth Ward. Shure, and it's phure air and wather the bye's votin fer. It's this Oi'm sayin', Misther Pod, Oi'll give ye twinty-foive bones fer th' brute in his prisent condishun; Oi will that, ond call it shquare."</p> <p>Mac certainly was acting very compromisingly. But I explained to the Irishman no reasonable sum could purchase that particular donkey, and, furthermore, that twenty-five dollars would barely satisfy my claims.</p> <p>The exclamation of "Holy Mither!" checked me for the moment, and as the man looked barnward he added, elequently shaking his fists, "Oi'm dommed, if th' shcapegrace ain't mixin' dhrinks!" Here Mr. Rooney and I rushed out in the nick of time to prevent my crazy jack from tapping a whiskey barrel standing in the shed adjoining the barn.</p> <p>"Misther Pod, a curse on me soul if Oi would ruun th' bladherscat fer doorkeeper oof th' pinnytinsury! Here's tin dollars, tear th' likes oof it in two and rhuun ond buy a bhromo seltzer, and sober th' toper oop at wance." I took the proffered note, and had gone but a hundred feet when the Irishman called to me, "Hold on; before yez lave fer th' sphace of a mooment moind thet ye puts a muzzle on th' asrophoid rephrobate with th' bobtail ears, ond shpring a toime lock on th' crethur."</p> <p>The animals having been dosed, I was about to question myself "What next?" when my host said cordially, "Shure, ond yez will feed with us. Yez may keep th' change from th' shinphlaster ond good luck in sthore fer yez. Now, coom on to grub, ond lave th' brutes alone. They'll be afther havin' their sea legs soon." And Pat succeeded in conciliating me, and escorted me to the house.</p> <p>By one o'clock my disgraceful donkeys answered to roll-call, and with touching humility submitted to be saddled.</p> <p>With such disappointing interpositions of Fate the Golden Gate seemed to be a decade removed. For a while, the donks were wavering and their pedals unreliable; but after the first hour they meandered along quite acceptably. As Mac was slow to recuperate, I rode Cheese. He was surprisingly sure of foot, whereas Mac, swell-headed, drowsy-eyed and swaying, couldn't have walked a straight line a yard wide, unless it was a yard of grass. He walked with a suspicious tread, like one venturing on ice which threatened his death bath any moment. When the afternoon was well advanced Cheese showed symptoms of lameness in his nigh fore-leg, as I had feared, in consequence of his late circus. We passed Maywood and Elmhurst as we followed the main-traveled road. I was compelled to dismount and lead my cripple four miles to Lombard. Such was my luck in the State of Illinois.</p> <p>It was after dark, the second day out of Chicago, and still we had traveled but twenty miles. To think—that munificent gift, Cheese, was already an invalid on my hands! I summoned a veterinary surgeon, and listened to his diagnosis with solicitous attention. "Only a strain of the shoulder muscles," said he; "must have run-hop-skip-and-jumped to get such a strain—does he ever play golf? Will require a full week's rest." The doctor rendered his professional opinion with the air of a metropolitan specialist prescribing a trip to Europe for some delicate society belle.</p> <p>Next morning I rode in company with a good fellow two miles into the country, where I purchased a very long-eared, shapeless donkey, of a good character, and quickly rode him bare-back to town. Then I sold my cripple at auction in the public square.</p> <p>The cumbersome pack-boxes, which the sturdy Mac A'Rony had borne without a murmur, I also sold to pay the doctor's bill.</p> <p>The following day saw me in the town of Wheaton, whose reputed beauty I failed to appreciate in a pouring rain. I remained there over Saturday night and Sunday.</p> <p>The clipping of Cheese II on Monday morning proved to be an exhibition well worth witnessing—at a safe distance. That "model" character turned out to have the temper of a vixen. First, a rope was twisted round his nose, then his four legs were tied securely together, and finally six strong men held him down on the floor to permit the finishing touches to his vibrating limbs, while carefully avoiding the finishing touches to their lives.</p> <p>Instantly the half dozen assistants were sent sprawling across the floor in all directions, while the stable dog chased an imaginary bird into space and landed in a poultry yard. The frightened donkey was mad, or had a fit. On the other hand, Mac, in the noisy excitement, pumped his bronchial organs to their utmost capacity, and Don joined in the chorus, till any passer-by might easily have mistaken the barn for a slaughter house. Finally, the unruly subject was got under control, and in time released on bail (of hay). I verily believe that the electricity generated by that clipped donkey, if stored, could have propelled a trolley for twenty-four hours.</p> <p>During the ensuing week, the villages of Geneva, Elberon, Maple Park and Courtland in turn greeted me with the usual curiosity and concern, and I was spared to enter De Kalb on Wednesday evening, after a most distressing adventure. When we had proceeded about two miles beyond Courtland, I unchained my dog for a short sportive recess. I rode Mac, and about three feet to our right ambled Cheese, a chain connecting his bit with my saddlehorn. My little troop was peacefully traversing the smooth country road when suddenly Don came bounding down the highway, chasing a little red calf, the dog barking gleefully, the calf bellowing with fright. Drawing my revolver, I fired to distract Don's attention; but without avail. A few moments later, as I was aiming at a flock of black birds, I heard the ominous clatter of hoofs rapidly approaching us from the rear, accompanied by a deep, hoarse mooing, which clearly emanated from a calf of mature years. Imagine my feelings when, turning in my seat, I beheld an enraged cow racing with Don in a bee line for me, the dog in the lead going a mile a minute, the bovine a mile and a quarter. It was the first I had known Don to flee from a foe. His eye now protruded, his tongue hung out a-foam, and his tail lay back straight like an arrow.</p> <p>As I remember, the dog passed under the chain connecting my donkeys, and instantly with the force of a locomotive something alive plunged in our midst, striking the chain. How many double somersaults I turned I know not. How many minutes we remained in the dusty road overturned in a heap I can only estimate from the distance the lucky dog must have traveled to get out of sight so soon.</p> <p>My first mental reflection was that the cow must be the calf's mother; my second thought was to save my life. I managed somehow to crawl out from under the animated heap, and then surveyed the situation. The cow's horns were fast in the chain and one of her feet in the saddle gear; and she tossed her head savagely, every time lifting one donkey or the other bodily off the ground and dropping him in a heap in the dust. She kicked and bellowed, until, finally breaking loose minus a horn, she made for me head down, innocent as I was.</p> <p>I didn't stop to argue, but lit out for the barbed wire fence with that outraged mother at my heels. I have heard you can tell how fast a man thinks by the way he eats. You could have told how fast I thought by the way I ran. Over the fence I leaped, leaving my long coat-tail hanging from the top strand of wire. The cow, blinded with rage, made a lunge at the piece of cloth only to lacerate her head on the barbs; then she jumped the fence and took after me, tail in air, and foam dripping from her mouth.</p> <p>A small tree stood by the roadside not far distant, and I cleared the fence again and made for it. Although not an expert at climbing, I shinned aloft like a squirrel, and for a moment expected the bovine to follow. She reared on her haunches, and pawed furiously at the swaying branches; then, backing several feet, she charged headlong against the sapling, almost dislocating every bone of my body and every hair of my head.</p> <p>All but shaken out of the tree-top, I contrived to gather in my legs and to wind them round the slender trunk. Then I reached for my revolvers. My Colt 44 was missing, but with my Smith &#38; Wesson 32, I peppered that cow, until I shot away a section of her tail, and sent her off in a cloud of dust—like a howling, raging cyclone—in the direction of her calf.</p> <p>I waited a while before venturing down to look for my animals, now conspicuous for their absence. Darkness had settled on the scene. Groping my way up the road, I soon stumbled over a pair of boots, further on a camera, and a hundred yards beyond my Winchester rifle, minus its holster.</p> <p>Still no sign of donkeys or dog. I stopped at a farm house and inquired: "Have you seen two jackasses strolling this way?"</p> <p>The agriculturist pulled his goatee as he surveyed me from foot to crown, and replied: "No, I hain't seen <em>two</em> jackasses <em>strollin'</em> this way, but a <em>whole herd</em> of 'em came tearing past my barnyard a-kitin' about an hour ago, skeerin' the cattle I was a-milkin' into fits. Why! the brayin' and takin's on of the wild beasts caused a stampede of my hull gol-darned dairy. What be ye at a-pesterin' round these parts with a herd of wild jackasses?"</p> <p>My response was terse, and was given before the man had finished. I hurried on, making inquiries at other farmhouses before I found my fugitive caravan huddling together in a corral, a mile beyond. My dog was with them, but no cows or calves.</p> <p>Borrowing a lantern and two halters, I retraced my steps down the highway, my unwilling animals in tow, and resaddled and packed them as best I could; then I returned the loan and hastened to town.</p> <div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="In_this_way_I_crossed_that_bridge_of_size"></SPAN> <SPAN href="images/i168-hd.jpg">larger <ANTIMG src="images/i168.jpg" width-obs="349" height-obs="600" alt="" /></SPAN> <div class="caption">A. "In this way I crossed that bridge of size."</div> <div class="caption">B. "I saw the streak of daylight."</div> <div class="caption">C. "So slow that his shadow beat him to town."</div> </div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />