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On A Donkey's Hurricane Deck

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<h3>CHAPTER XXII. Rat trap and donkey's tail</h3> TOC BY PYE POD. <div class="poembox"> "By my faith, Signor Don Quixote," quoth the duchess, "that must not be; you shall be served by four of my damsels, all beautiful as roses." "To me," answered Don Quixote, "they will not be as roses, but even as thorns pricking me to the very soul; they must in nowise enter my chamber."<cite>—Don Quixote.</cite> </div> From Rochelle to the Mississippi I found the people more conservative, but interesting subjects for character study. The topography of the country varied but little. Snipe, quail, doves and meadow larks were prevalent. The pesty pocket-gophers were as shy of my fire-arms as of the farmers' dogs; one might shoot a dozen of them only to see the spry little fellows drop dead into their "home-made" graves. I have seen hundreds of them sitting upright on as many mounds, immovable as sticks, but pop! and they vanished. Crossing this one-time prairie state, I recalled pictures of prairie fires in my school-books, and easily imagined the terror of the droves of wild horses and buffalo, fleeing before the leaping flames. This seemed to be a contented section, and contentment is a great thing. Although no woodland was visible, I saw occasional clusters of "pussy willows," and groups of shade-trees embowering a house, above which the shaft of an aeromotor towered like a sentinel, asserting the homestead rights. When the windwheels were in motion, they created a noise which only an expert linguist could distinguish from the vernacular of a guinea hen. Here and there bunches of cattle browsed in the meadows behind barbed-wire fences and thorn hedges; and long corn-cribs, often full to overflowing, had rewarded most every farmer. About dark, May first, my small caravan ambled into the village of Ashton, and my bugle blasts aroused the nodding inhabitants sufficiently to give me a fair audience for a lecture. The Germans predominated, and to them May-day festivals are indispensable. Boys and girls celebrate by hanging May-baskets on door knobs, and a few wags, who resemble frogs, in that a half dozen make you think they are a million, shower corn, sand and bird shot at windows equal to a Kansas hail-storm. The celebration that night seemed to be directed at my particular window. The racket had almost soothed me to sleep, when suddenly a rag doll loaded with shot came smashing through the blinds and landed on my bed. My patience overtaxed, I arose and resorted to free trade by exporting to the street a piece of crockery, and a chair, not to mention a few roasted invectives. I would have folded my bedstead and sent it sailing after them, but the disturbance of the peace and the pieces ceased together. While at breakfast I wondered if any tricks had been played on my animals. I was quite sure of it before reaching the stable. The livery keeper came hobbling up on one foot and a crutch, with his face done up in fly-paper, and a bandage around his head. "What's up?" I asked. "Jacks got the spasms." "You mean spavins," I corrected, innocently enough. "Guess I ought to know the difference 'tween spasms and spavins," he returned, sourly. "Those d—— mules o' yourn kicked out petitions, hollared, and had such fits last night that they scared all the mice and rats outen the haymow." "What kind of petitions?" I asked, remembering I had been tempted to issue a petition on my own account. "What kind d'y, 'spose? Wooden petitions," said he. "And when I crawled out o' bed and went to the stalls to see what ailed 'em——" "Ailed the petitions?" I interrupted, excitedly. "Naw, the mules,—something like a thousand rats and mice ran over my bare feet. I thought the barn must be afire, and I jumped so the lantern fell outen my hand and broke, and I had to feel my way in the dark." "You ought to know better than to feel around strange donkeys, night or day," said I, reprovingly. "It wasn't th' feelin' of 'em what broke me up so," said he. "'Twas the kindlin' wood they piled up again me." I did not discuss further the circumstances; I was quite satisfied, since we had grievances in common. While settling my bill, I noticed Mac gaze at the ceiling, so I glanced upward, too, and at once saw hanging to a nail on a cross-beam a circular rat-trap, bent almost flat, and containing two dead rodents. That solved the mystery. On recovering the trap, we found it sprinkled with donkey hair, and sheep twine, which was proof enough that some young villain had fastened a cage full of rats to Mac A'Rony's tail, he being the most amiable of the donkeys. There is nothing like the mysterious to frighten a dumb brute, and when that donkey heard strange noises and felt mysterious movements about his hind legs, he didn't wait for an explanation. Good-bye, rats! Although the day dawned clear, dark clouds began early to bank in the Southwest, and before I could reach the next town I was drenched by a heavy shower. But I was fortunate in selling Cheese II, my weak-footed jack, for seven dollars to the village butcher, who, while in Ashton, had generously fed my dog. Wet to my skin, I took refuge in a German tavern managed by a widow with five comely daughters. All were kind and responsive to my wants, and brought to my room a varied assortment of house pets, literature, and cheese, not omitting a bottle of beer, for my entertainment and refreshment, while I remained in bed enveloped in comforters, waiting for my only suit of clothes to dry by the kitchen fire. Meanwhile I became almost asphyxiated from the gas generated by the Limburger cheese which had already smothered two hearty slices of bread. The next day I spent in Dixon, and the following day in Sterling, situated on Rock River. From my bedroom window I had a charming view of the dam falls and the iron bridge which spans the stream. My sojourn in both these towns was profitable. It was a hot and dusty ride to Morrison, where I found a brass band serenading a leading citizen. "This won't do," said I; and making Mac bray, I blew my bugle, and at once turned the tide of popularity in our favor. The fickle crowd soon gathered and cheered me to the hotel, while the jilted band had the brass to march down the street past me, blowing itself with might and main until lost to view, not once thinking that distance lent enchantment to my ear. Next day we made slow headway to the Mississippi. As I approached the "Father of Waters" the land, as well as my donkeys, were more rolling. Several times when wading through a pool of dust, Cheese III, alias Poodle, would suddenly stop, circle about, kneel and roll with all the paraphernalia he was carrying. Then my steed would follow suit, before I could get out of the saddle. Thirteen miles from Morrison lay the village of Fulton, on the banks of the Mississippi, and it was 4:30 P. M. before we arrived at the big high bridge. The bridge approach on each side of the river crosses a broad stretch of lowlands which at certain seasons is inundated. My donkeys refused to pass the toll-gate, although I had paid the toll. I demanded of Mac an explanation. He maintained silence, as did Cheese, and neither of them would budge. A squad of laborers, amused at my plight, asserted their donkey nature by imitating an ass's bray, and so perfect was the imitation that my animals took them for donkeys disguised in human apparel, and joined in the awful chorus. Presently a timid woman following us with a terpsichorean horse called to me and gesticulated wildly. I feared a runaway and was at a loss to know how to urge my contrary animals on, but before long a double dray team came to my assistance. The teamster roped Mac to the rear axle of his wagon, cracked his whip, and drove on, dragging the obdurate donkey on his haunches across the bridge, while Cheese crept closely behind in fear and trembling. When I had crossed the Mississippi it was exactly seventeen minutes past five. As we wended our way into Clinton, Ia., cheers greeted us from every quarter. "The streets were rife with people pacing restless up and down;" but soon all footsteps followed in one direction, to the Reviere House, where I took advantage of the favorable circumstances to make a speech, and to dispose of a host of my chromos. I had traveled thirteen hundred and sixty miles, about one-third of the distance by trail from New York to San Francisco, and had consumed one hundred and sixty days; and there was left me only one hundred and eighty-one days in which to accomplish the remaining two-thirds of my journey. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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