Although Mistah Mule didn’t know what they meant, he exclaimed that he was ready for anything.
“I doesn’t keer,” he said, “what kind o’ race it is. I knows I kin win it.”
XXVI
A QUEER KIND OF RACE
Bright and Broad, the oxen, were going to race against Mistah Mule in the back pasture.
It was going to be a slow race. And since Mistah Mule hadn’t the slightest idea what a slow race was, Bright and Broad started to explain. As usual, they both began to speak the same words, at the same time.
“The race,” they told Mistah Mule, “will be from the fence here to the big pine tree on the other side of the pasture. We two will keep together, just as we always do. We’ll all three start at once. If you reach the pine tree first, you lose. If we reach it first, we lose.”
“Don’t nobody win this race?” Mistah Mule inquired.
“Yes! Yes! Whoever reaches the pine tree last will win.”
Mistah Mule shook his head.
“It’s one agin two,” he complained. “Don’t ’pear like it’s a fair race. If one o’ you go too fast, the other kin hold him back.”