The Delicate Point,
Therefore, Of The Whole Operation Is Keeping The First Mule Straight.
The First Mule In Our Party,
Who rejoiced in the name of Rousse, was
selected to head the caravan, perhaps because he had more native
originality
Than most mules, and was therefore better fitted to lead
than to follow. A troublesome beast was he, from a habit of abstract
meditation which was always liable to come on him in most inconvenient
localities. Every now and then, simply in accordance with his own
sovereign will and pleasure, and without consulting those behind him,
he would stop short and descend into himself in gloomy revery, not
that he seemed to have any thing in particular on his mind, - at least
nothing of the sort escaped his lips, - but the idea would seem to
strike him all of a sudden that he was an ill-used beast, and that
he'd be hanged if he went another step. Now, as his stopping stopped
all the rest, wheresoever they might happen to be, it often occurred
that we were detained in most critical localities, just on the very
verge of some tremendous precipice, or up a rocky stairway. In vain
did the foremost driver admonish him by thumping his nose with a sharp
stick, and tugging and pulling upon the bridle. Rousse was gifted with
one of those long, India rubber necks that can stretch out
indefinitely, so that the utmost pulling and jerking only took his
head along a little farther, but left his heels planted exactly here
they were before, somewhat after this fashion.
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