“If you were going to buy a horse, Mundon, what particular points would you look for in the animal?”
“Well, I’d see that he had a broad forehead, good straight, clean legs, round hoofs, small ears, clear eyes, and, most of all, a wide chest. But, of course, these don’t hold good in a mule.”
“No; I suppose not.”
“Then, he oughter be in good perportion. I’ve seen horses with a fine-lookin’ front and a back all shrunk up. And I’ve seen some with a fine back and a front that had a stunted look. An animal like that ain’t apt to have much strength or wearin’ qualities. Then, there’s exceptions. I remember one of the best horses for pullin’ I ever saw had a sort of stunted front. But, of course, none of these things hold good in a mule.”
“No; nothing seems to apply to a mule.” Ben picked up a strap which dangled from the harness and began untangling it. “Haven’t the teeth something to do with it?”
“Sure! They’re the most important point, ’cause that’s the way you kin tell a horse’s age—by his teeth. If they’re long, he’s old. You want to see that they ain’t ben filed, too.”
“Do you think the point about the teeth would apply to a mule?” Ben asked.
“There ain’t nothin’ that applies to a mule except—patience. You’ve got to have everlastin’ patience when you come near a mule. But, they’re knowin’. Lordy! I’ve had ’em teamin’ up in the mountains when they knew a sight more’n most men. I’d talk to ’em just like they was humans. ‘Sal,’ I’d say, ‘don’t you know better’n to hug so close to that bank?’ And before the words was out of my mouth, Sal would be a-standin’ way off from the bank. And all I had to do to git one of ’em over the chain,—there’s a chain runs between ’em in place of a pole, you know, and mebbe I’d have sixteen or twenty strung along in pairs,—and if I wanted to git one of ’em over it I’d jest call out the name, and that mule would jump the chain quick as lightnin’. A horse has got a heap of sense, but, in my opinion, a mule kin discount him every time.”
“We’re safer, then, in buying a mule than a horse?”