On A Donkey's Hurricane Deck Part 9

But the judges agreed with Pod that the jumpers failed to STAND STILL and jump, and so handed me the money. Naturally, the jumpers, being in a jumping mood, wanted to jump on me next, but they finally conciliated, and regarded me thereafter with suspicion.

Although the roads were reported impa.s.sable, we departed for Medina on Sunday morning, and, the day following, hastened on toward Lockport. When yet two miles to town, after traveling sixteen miles, a boy ran after us in the darkness and persuaded me to return to his house, as his Pa wished me to be his guest over night; so we did not reach Lockport until eleven next morning. I no sooner stabled Mac than I boarded the train for Buffalo in quest of a theatre engagement; failing in that, I returned to enjoy a stroke of good luck in the form of an engagement for Mac and me to appear on a vaudeville stage in Lockport, which netted me a few honest dollars.

At six o'clock Thursday morning we were off for Buffalo, a twenty-six mile journey. Only once did we stop, when I unsaddled for our mid-day meal at Stormville, Mammoth snow-drifts were piled against the fences and across the roads which, melting, gave way under my donkey's weight, frequently imprisoning his slim legs.

We reached a school-house near the village of Williamsville just as the scholars were dismissed for their nooning, and were immediately set upon by a laughing, shouting, questioning bevy of frolicsome children, who made merry sport of my partner's predicament; he was stuck in a snow-drift. If Mac had exerted himself a little, he might have climbed out, but he was tired, unusually obstinate, and naturally lazy, and so preferred to await developments.

One precocious genius in the crowd suggested rolling the donkey into a s...o...b..ll, and rolling him to town. That was the signal for a general hurrah. I shook my head disapprovingly, but, on thinking it over, decided to try the novel plan.

"Come on, boys," I said. And then with peals of merriment and youthful energy which I never saw equalled, the whole lot soon packed the snow about the patient animal, until only his head and tail were left exposed; then I gave the word "heave to," and the asinine s...o...b..ll began to turn slowly on its axis, and made a complete revolution. The donkey brayed with laughter; but before he had rolled a dozen times he stopped braying and began kicking, or rather made futile efforts to kick. A dozen more revolutions and he complained of dizziness, but the children only pushed and rolled with renewed energy. Larger and larger the s...o...b..ll grew, until finally we had to stop and scale off sufficient snow to enable the good work to go on. And presently it did go on, and we rolled the asinine s...o...b..ll into town amid the cheers and laughter of the children, the frightful brays of protestation from the imprisoned donkey, and the dumb consternation of the villagers.

Mac, when liberated, rose at once, only to topple over on his head. He claimed the earth was turning around, which was true enough, although not the way the donkey meant. He was too dizzy to stand for some time; each effort resulted in a comical physical collapse, that set the villagers shrieking with laughter. This was a good time for me to profit by Mac's generous entertainment, and while telling the a.s.sembled crowd all about our travels, I sold photos by the dozen. The people opened their pockets liberally, and before they could recover from the effects of the sensation Mac had caused, we pilgrims were hurrying out of town, over an easier road to Buffalo.

In consequence of the s...o...b..ll affair and several other delays, we did not reach the city until after dark. Having traveled seventeen miles since lunch, we were ravenously hungry. Buffalo presented a beautiful sight, with her myriad lights gleaming on the snow. Down Main street, I espied a patent night-lunch wagon standing by the curb, and hitching Mac to the hind axle, I went in for a bite.

Suddenly I became conscious that the vehicle was moving, and made a hasty exit, to discover I had traveled several blocks in the lunch wagon.

The hard travel Mac had been subjected to for the past week necessitated his having a long rest before resuming the journey.

The morning after our arrival in Buffalo, my aristocratic donkey was made the honored guest of the Palace Stables, a large and handsome brick building. Mac's box stall was on the third floor, and could be reached either by an inclined run-way, or an elevator. The donkey being unaccustomed to such extravaganzas as elevators, chose the inclined plane, and even then he put on such airs that it required the united efforts of a half dozen stablemen to escort him to his apartment. Once there, he was feted like a n.o.bleman.

I, too, was lavishly entertained. But of all the courtesies extended me the most interesting was the invitation to stand up with a young Italian wedding party in the City Hall, where the Mayor, who sent for me, tied the knot. His Honor did the sacred office bravely--until the conclusion, when he flunked completely.

I'll explain.

Casimo Mazzette and Rosino Lodico were dago peasants, born in Palermo, Sicily. The groom was tall and proud and embarra.s.sed, although ten years the senior of his eighteen-year-old bride, who was too coy to meet his gaze. She at first took Pod for a preacher, engaged to prompt the Mayor. According to the custom of their native heath, they simply joined hands, instead of using a wedding-ring,--a very sensible idea, for hard times. The pretty ceremony over, the bewitching female benedict looked at the Mayor, and moved toward him, and raised her face, but the embarra.s.sed Mayor withdrew, to the astonishment of everyone, explaining that he was married to a jealous woman, and asked me to kiss the bride for him. He preferred to do the honors by proxy. So, without comment or hesitation, I stepped up to the pretty dago, placed my arm around her to avoid danger of making a bungle of the first kiss I ever gave a woman, drew her face to mine, and kissed her squarely on her ruby lips. She looked so happy that I was about to repeat the act, but her husband stepped between us. The pair shook hands with the Mayor and his clerical-looking a.s.sistant, who wished them lots of luck and "dagoettes," and then the blus.h.i.+ng bride fled with her devoted swain out of the hall.

Next day I accepted for Mac an invitation to a phonograph exhibition in the Ellicott Building. We both attended and were richer for it. The room was well-filled with men and women who eagerly awaited the advertised show. When the manager courteously asked what was the donkey's favorite style of music I explained that, as he was a slow animal, he probably preferred lively music.

At once the "yellow kid" held the tubes to the donkey's ears; those sensitive organs indicated his delight by each alternatively flapping forward and backward; but, suddenly, as they were thrown forward together, the jacka.s.s kicked an incandescent light globe above into flying fragments. Women screamed and fell into the arms of the men for protection.

"You said the donkey was gentle," said the manager, angrily.

"So he is," I returned.

"Then how do you account for such high kicking?"

"Struck a discord, I presume," I said. "What music is in that machine?"

The clerk answered. "The first p-p-piece was the "Darkey's Dream,""

said he, with slight impediment of speech, "but the s-s-second was "Schneider's Band.""

"Who wouldn't kick!" I exclaimed. Due apologies were in order, and confidence was restored, and an hour later we two departed with the donkey's earnings and the well wishes of all.

CHAPTER XI.

ASININE TABLE OF MEASUREMENT.

Nine square inches make one foot, Four all-around feet make one jacka.s.s, One cross jacka.s.s makes three kicks, Two hard kicks make one corpse; Corpse, kicks, jacka.s.s, feet-- How many doggies do we meet?

--_Dogeared Doggerels._

From which table we may safely conclude there is one dog less in the world, and that, estimating him by his kicks, Mac is a jacka.s.s and a half.

If I had kept a complete record of the breeds, sorts, colors, and conditions of the canines, the pups and curs we met with on the road from New York, I might have compiled a book larger than Trow's New York City Directory, which still would exclude the mongrels and all uncla.s.sified "wags" and "barks" of the country sausage-districts.

From a financial point of view, I was disappointed with our four-days' sojourn in Buffalo, but Mac and I were rested, and the weather was milder. The winds from Lake Erie had swept the snow off the roads against the fences where it didn't belong, so that my partner had to drag the sled out of Buffalo over a dry and rutty highway. There were, however, several places where the elements had shown a grudge against the farmers by piling huge snow drifts across the road to impede their travel and maliciously blowing the white spread from the fields of winter wheat which required its protecting warmth.

Directly on reaching Hamburg, we were taken in charge by a Mr.

Kopp (Mac had predicted a cop would have us before long), and given a warm reception. On the way to Eaton's Corners, six miles beyond, I undertook to earn fifty cents in an extraordinary manner; some might call it a hoggish manner. A farmer hailed me from a barnyard, and asked if he could sell me a boar.

"Boar!" I exclaimed, almost losing my breath; and I added: "No, sir; one boar is enough."

"Well, then, do yer want to make a half dollar?" he called.

"Course I do--more than anxious," I answered.

"Then jes' help me drag this 'ere hog ter town most; Squire Birge has bought it, and I've agreed ter deliver it or bust."

"Let's see it," I said. "Don't know much about hogs, but I'll know more, I guess, when I see yours."

I followed the man, Mac tagging close behind. Behold! A docile looking hog of mastodon dimensions was conveying the contents of a corn crib to its inner self. I walked around the beast several times to count his good points, and closed the bargain.

An end of a rope was fastened to the hog's hind foot, and the other end wound round the pommel of the saddle. Then I gave the infuriated donkey the whip. A tug of war followed; presently the rope snapped, and donkey and hog were hurled in opposite directions, both turning somersaults. Luckily my rifle escaped injury. The hog lost the kink in his tail; he looked mad, and with his vicious stares, frightened Mac half to death. Finally the rope was again adjusted, and an exciting scene ensued. The velocity of the vibrations of that hog's roped foot, trying to kick loose, put electricity to shame. When the donkey eased up a little, the boar showed its true character by starting for the barn, pulling Mac after him; while, on the other hand, when the hog stopped for wind, the donkey would make a dive for town and drag him until he also had to pause for breath. So those obdurate beasts worked rather than played at cross-purposes for half an hour before I forfeited my contract and proceeded on over the frozen road.

We reached Angola by seven, and Farnham at ten o'clock. There we were comfortably quartered; Mac was rubbed with liniment, fed and watered, while I, too late for supper, retired with an empty stomach.

The Lake Sh.o.r.e road threads some thrifty-looking towns. The country was dotted with neatly painted barns and cozy houses, surrounded by energetic windmills and inert live-stock, while denuded vineyards laced the frosted sh.o.r.es for miles about. We lunched at Silver Creek, where a burly denizen tried to sell me a big dog, which, he claimed, would tear an ox into pieces. The price named was $5. Neither man nor dog made an impression on me.

When I finally drew rein in Dunkirk, at 7:30 P. M., the hotel was alive with commercial men who quickly surrounded us. In ten minutes I sold enough chromos to pay our expenses over night and purchase a new breast-band for Mac.

Prior to February 12, Lincoln's Birthday, I traveled so rapidly (even with a donkey), that events somewhat confused me; following the sh.o.r.e of Lake Erie, I visited a dozen towns or more, sometimes several in a single day.

I had no sooner disfigured the guest register of the New Hotel, Fredonia, with my odd signature than I discovered the ill.u.s.trious name of Geo. W. Cable on the line above mine. It seemed a strange coincidence that two such famous men as Cable and Pod should be so unexpectedly crowded together in that little book, in a little inn, in that town. Natural enough and pursuant to the Law of Affinities, I immediately sent my card to the celebrated author, who at once invited the eccentric traveler to his room. Mr. Cable had been reclining, having just arrived by train. He gave me a complimentary ticket to his lecture, that evening, which I placed in my pocket, and later gave to the hotel clerk for discounting my bill.

"What a pretty place this must be in summer," was the author's initiatory remark, while twisting a yawn into a smile.

"Yes, indeed," I answered, and stretched my legs.

"And how do you stand the journey."

"Oh, fairly well; getting in better condition every day."

"You are a slender man, Professor, but I a.s.sume, very wiry, like the cables."

The conversation continued until I felt the strain, and I presently shook hands, and wis.h.i.+ng him a full house, departed. The author-lecturer is a little under stature; he wore a genial smile and frock coat; his eyes were as bright as duplex burners; and he shook hands just as other people do.

It was long after dark when we travelers ambled into Brockton and put up for the night.

Mac and I had pa.s.sed the day in the village of Ripley. The Raines Law did not seem to have a salutary effect on that section of the State. I met on the road that afternoon a tall, lank, tipsy fellow, carrying a long muzzle-loader gun. He stopped me, and said he was a Westerner, a half-breed, and fifty years old. "Been out shootin' mavericks," he said importantly. "Same gun (hic) had in th' Rockies. I'm gentle, though--gentle as a kitten." I was charmed to know he was not hostile, said "So long," and hurried on.