“Go!” they bellowed. And each began very slowly to lift a foot off the ground.
Mistah Mule suddenly forgot that this was to be a slow race. When he heard the word “Go!” he gave a great leap, which carried him between Bright and Broad and thrust those heavy fellows rudely apart.
“Whoa, there!” they both cried. “Get back! If you must pass, go around us.”
XXVII
A GOOD RACE SPOILED
The slow race across the back pasture had to be begun all over again. At the word “Go!” Mistah Mule had forgotten that it wasn’t a fast race. And he had plunged forward before he knew what he was doing.
After the second start he fell in behind the plodding oxen, Bright and Broad. But he soon found that he couldn’t walk as slowly as they could. First his nose nudged Bright. Then his nose nudged Broad.
“Stop that!” they both cried.
“’Scuse me!” said Mistah Mule. “Move a little spryer—can’t you?”
“Ha!” they chuckled. “We knew we could beat you at this game.” They crowded against each other, so that Mistah Mule couldn’t wedge himself between them. And there was nothing he could do except thrust his head and neck alongside one of the pair. He chose Bright’s side.
Mistah Mule hadn’t taken six steps in this position when he gave a loud snort. And then he flashed past Bright and Broad so quickly that they looked as if they were moving backward.