The Golden Magnet Part 10

One could not pity him much, for at starting he had rejected three or four quiet-looking beasts as too slow, and chosen the animal he rode, or rather tried to ride, for, if the reader will pardon the Irishism, a great deal of Tom's riding was walking, and performed by leading his beast by its bridle.

But really it was a deceptive beast, and to have seen it drooping its head and walking calmly and peacefully by its hirer's side, no one would have imagined that it possessed so much mischievous sagacity as it very soon displayed when anyone attempted to mount it.

"I like 'em with some sperrit in 'em, Mas'r Harry," Tom had said. "If it was a horse it would be different; but if one's to ride a donkey, let's have one with something in it."

And verily Tom's donkey, as he called it, was not very long before it showed that it had, indeed, something in it, a great deal more, in fact, than Tom had bargained for. We did not pa.s.s many trees by the track, but when we did come upon one Tom had certain information thereof, for the mule rubbed his rider's leg vigorously against the trunk. The sight of a muddy pool of water was the signal for him to squeak, elevate his heels, and then go off at a sharp gallop, when, if his rider did not quickly slip off behind, he would be carried into the pool and bathed, for the mule would drink his fill and then indulge in a roll in the mud and water. In short, I never before saw so many acts of cunning in an animal, one and all directed at dislodging the rider.

At first I was in a state of tremor lest his vagaries should infect the beasts ridden by myself and the guide; but no, they were evidently elderly mules--bordering on a hundred they might have been, from their grey and mangy aspect. They had sown their wild oats years before, and all that they did was to trudge solemnly on, quiet and sure-footed, if not swift.

Tom's mishaps had their pleasant face, though; they served to make a horribly monotonous journey more bearable, and on an average he was in grief, some way or another, about every two hours.

"Oh, senor," said the guide proudly, "the mule is perfect! He is a magnificent beast, but he has his antipathies. He used to be ridden by the padre, and he is a most holy and Christian mule. He shows his dislike a little sometimes like that, because the senor who rides him is a heretic."

"Oh!" I said.

"Yes, it is so, senor, I a.s.sure you," said the guide. "Let your friend ride my beast and I will take his, and then you will see how peaceable he is."

At first Tom did not seem disposed to agree, for he did not like being beaten; but I ordered him to dismount, his accidents tending so greatly to lengthen our journey. So the exchange of mules was made, and on we went once more.

"See, senor!" said the guide. "He is a pattern mule, is Juan; he goes like a lamb. It is a natural dislike that he has not learned to subdue.

He does not know what good men and generous there are amongst the heretics."

"Haw, haw, haw, haw! Look at that, Mas'r Harry--there's a game!" roared Tom, for the guide had hardly done speaking, just as we were travelling pleasantly along, before Juan, the mule, stopped short, put his head between his legs, elevated his hind-quarters, and the next moment the guide was sitting amongst the stones staring up at us with a most comical expression of countenance.

"The beast has been cursed!" he cried angrily as he rose.

"Car-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ambo! but you shall starve for this, Juan!"

"Let me have another turn at him," cried Tom, as he started off to catch the mule, which had cantered off a few hundred yards, and was searching about with his nose amongst the sand and stones for a few succulent blades of gra.s.s where there was not so much as a thistle or a cactus to be seen.

But Juan had no wish to be caught, and after leading his pursuer a tolerable race, he stopped short, and placed all four hoofs together, so as to turn easily as upon a pivot, presenting always his tail to the hand that caught at his bridle.

"Poor fellow, then! Come, then--come over," said Tom soothingly.

But the only response he obtained was an occasional lift of the beast's heels, and an angry kick.

"You ignorant brute, you can't understand plain English!" cried Tom angrily.

"No, senor, he is a true Spanish mule," said the guide, coming up.

Between them, Tom and he soon managed to catch Juan, when, holding tightly by the reins, the guide vented his displeasure and took his revenge by thoroughly drumming the poor brute's ribs with a stout stick, after which Tom mounted, and our journey for the next two hours was without incident.

But we were not to get to the end of the day without mishap. The sun had begun to descend, and we were panting along, longing for the sight of water to quench our burning throats, when Juan began to show that the pain from the guide's drubbing had evaporated. First of all he indulged in a squeal or two, then he contrived to kick the mule I rode upon one of its legs, when, emboldened by the success of the manoeuvre, he waited his time, and then, sidling up to his companion ridden by the guide, he discharged a fierce kick at him, nearly catching the guide in the shin; but the result was a tremendous crack from a stick right upon Juan's back--a blow which made him shake his head with dissatisfaction till his ears rattled again.

He had forgotten the pain, though, in ten minutes, and the first hint we had thereof was a squeal and feat of sleight of _heel_, in which, to all appearances, Juan stood perpendicularly upon his nose and fore-feet for half a minute, like a fleshly tripod, while his rider, or rather his late rider, rolled over and over, the centre of a cloud of impalpable dust, coughing and sneezing, and muttering fiercely.

"There!" exclaimed Tom, as he jumped up and began beating the dust from his garments. "That's four times that brute has had me off to-day.

I've rid everything in my time, Mas'r Harry, from a pig up to a parish bull. I've been on sheep and donkeys, and when I was at the blacksmith's I rode all sorts of restive beasts as come to be shod, but I never did get on such a brute as that; his skin don't fit him, and he slippers about between your legs all sorts of ways; but I mean to ride him yet. Now just you try him half an hour, Mas'r Harry, to see what he's like."

"Not I, thank you, Tom," was my reply. "I'm very well content."

"So am I, Mas'r Harry, only he makes me so sore; but I ain't bet yet, I can tell him. Come over, then!"

But the mule would not "come over, then!" and there ensued a fierce fight of kicks between Tom and his steed, Tom essaying to kick the mule for punishment in the ribs; the mule, nowise taken aback, returning the compliment, by essaying to kick his late rider anywhere, though without success. It might have been imagined, to see the artful feints and moves, that the mule was endowed with human reason. Tom was more than a match for him at last, though, for, slipping off his jacket, he threw it over the mule's head and held it there, confusing the poor beast, so that it could not avoid a couple of heartily given kicks in the ribs; and before it could recover from its surprise Tom was once more seated upon its back in triumph.

"I can stand a wonderful sight of kicking off, Mas'r Harry, I can tell you! I ain't bet yet! Co-o-me on, will you!"

Apparently cowed, now that the jacket was removed, the mule journeyed on very peaceably, till leaving the plain we began to ascend a precipitous mountain-side, the track each moment growing more and more sterile,--if it were possible--grand, and at the same time dangerous. And now it was that we began to see the qualities of the mules in the cautious way they picked their steps, feeling each loose piece of path before trusting their weight to it, and doing much towards removing a strange sensation of tremor evoked by the fact that we were progressing along a shelf of rugged rock some two feet wide--the scarped mountain-side upon our right, a vast precipice on the left.

More than once I was for getting down to walk, but the guide dissuaded me, as he declared that it was far better to trust to the mules, who were never known to slip.

A couple of miles of such travelling served to somewhat rea.s.sure me-- familiarity with danger breeding contempt; and I called out to Tom:

"I hope your beast won't bear malice, Tom, for this would be an awkward place for him to try his capers."

I said so thoughtlessly, just at a time when we were descending; Tom's beast, which was before me, walking along with the most rigorous care as to where he set his feet.

"Oh! I say, don't, Mas'r Harry," whined Tom, "don't! It's no joke, you know, and this mule understands every word you say--leastwise he might, you know. I ain't afraid, only he might--"

Tom's sentence was not finished; for, in fact, just as if every word I had uttered had been comprehended, down went the beast's head, his heels were elevated, and the next moment, to my horror, poor Tom was over the side of the path, and rolling swiftly down to apparent destruction.

He was brought up, though, the next moment by the reins, which he tightly grasped, and which fortunately did not give way, though they tightened with a jerk that must have nearly dislocated the mule's neck.

The leather, fortunately, now strained and stretched, but held firm; while, planting its fore-feet close to the edge of the precipice, and throwing its body back against the scarped wall, the mule stood firm as the rock itself, but snorting loudly as with glaring eyeb.a.l.l.s it stared down at Tom; who hung there, trying to obtain some rest for his feet, but uttering no sound, only gazing up at us with a wild look that said plainly as could be, "Don't leave me here to die!"

It was no easy task to help him; for the guide and I had both to dismount on to a narrow ledge of rock, clinging the while to our mules; but we achieved that part of our task, and the next moment, one on each side of Juan, we were kneeling down and trying to reach Tom's hands.

But our efforts were vain, for the mule was in the way, and there was not standing room for all three. There was but one way of helping, and that looked too desperate to be attempted, and I hesitated to propose it as I knelt shivering there.

The same thought, though, had occurred to Tom, and in a husky voice he said:

"Take hold of the guide's hand, Mas'r Harry, and creep under the mule's legs to his side."

It was no time to hesitate; and I did as I was told, the mule giving utterance to quite a shriek as I pa.s.sed.

"Now can you both reach the bridle?" Tom whispered.

"Yes, yes!" we both exclaimed.

"Hold on tight then, while one of you cuts it through, and then the mule will be out of the way."

We each took a good grip of the leathern thong, raising it so that we had Tom's full weight upon our muscles; and then crouching down so as not to be drawn over, I hastily drew out my knife, opened it with some difficulty by means of my teeth, and then tried to cut the bridle above our hands.

But feeling himself partly relieved of his burden, the mule began to grow restless, stamping, whinnying, and trying to get free. For a moment I thought we might utilise his power, and make him back and help draw Tom up; but the narrowness of the ledge forbade it, and he would only have been drawn sidewise till the rein broke.

Twice I tried to cut the bridle, but twice the mule balked me, and I was glad to ease the fearful strain on one arm by catching at the hand that held the knife.

"Try again, Mas'r Harry, please," whispered Tom. "I can't hang much longer."

With a desperate effort I cut at the rein, and divided it close to the mule's mouth.