“Yessah,” responded Mose, with a grin. “’Clare to goodness, Ah’d clean forgot dat you can ketch more flies wid honey dan yuh can wid vinegar.”
When Baldy saw the tempting heap of oats, it occurred to him that a little something to eat wouldn’t be so bad, and he sidled over to them and began eating. The darkeys secured the harness that they had been forced to drop, and crept cautiously up on the mule, who was now thinking only of how delicious oats could taste to a hungry mule. Mose mounted the fence just back of old Baldy, while his companion crept close to the mule’s other side. Suddenly Mose leaped squarely on his back. With a frightened snort the mule jerked his head up, and at that second Mose slipped the heavy collar over his neck. At the same moment the other negro slipped the bridle over his head, forced the bit into his mouth, and before he could flick his tail old Baldy found himself arrayed in harness. The suddenness of the attack seemed to take all the spirit out of the mule, and when he found himself actually harnessed he submitted with only a few feeble kicks and bucks as protest against the trick that had been played on him. He was soon hitched to the wagon, and it rattled out of the yard with the two colored men on the seat laughing and throwing insults at the subdued Baldy.
“That was some inspiration you had, Lee,” said Bobby. “I thought at one time you’d have to call in the police if you wanted to get him harnessed.”
“Oh, that’s an old trick,” said the Southern lad. “I’ve seen those same darkeys do the same thing, but I guess this time they were so rattled they didn’t think of it.”
“Well, I’m glad they didn’t do that at the beginning,” said Fred. “We’d have missed a lot of fun if they had. I don’t think I’ll ever forget how funny Mose looked streaking for the fence with that mule snapping his teeth right behind him.”
“Yes, old Mose was a scared darkey, all right,” laughed Lee. “But now, I don’t know about you fellows, but I for one am beginning to feel as though I could appreciate some of Aunt Dinah’s cooking.”
“Well, suppose you lead us to it and let us show you how we feel about it,” said Bobby. “As they often remind us in school, it’s deeds that count, not words.”
“All right, then, just follow me and I’ll give you a chance to demonstrate,” said Lee.
“Lead on,” said Fred, “and remember that we’re with you to the last doughnut.”
“Oh, I know I can count on you,” returned Lee, as he and his friends headed for the house. “But I know you can’t eat too much to suit Aunt Dinah. The more you pack away, the more she thinks you like her cooking. She is sure an artist when, it comes to performing on a cook stove.”