MULES FOR LUCK.
In the flush days of gambling on the Mississippi I used to take everything. If a man did not have the money, I would not refuse diamonds or a stock of goods. On one occasion, when I was going from Memphis to Cairo on the Belle of Memphis, a little game was started, and I won ten first-class mules. A bill of sale was drawn up, but when I went to land the mules at Cairo, the former owner began to kick, so I had them transferred to another boat that was lying alongside of us, and bound for St. Louis. The man hated to part with his mules, and went down pawing and clamoring among them until one of them gave him a severe kick which nearly proved fatal. At last they doctored him up so he could talk. We were then en route for St. Louis, but I was too smart to take them there, so I disembarked at Cape Girardeau, and sold the mules at a reduced price, for what did a gambler want with a pack of hungry mules trailing around after him anyhow?