He stooped and picked up a stone as big as his fists, and suddenly became aware of the fact that, though the mule’s head was turned away from him, the cunning animal turned its eyes back and was watching him carefully. For as he raised the stone Gros shook his head so that his long ears rattled, squealed, and a peculiar quivering motion, like the beginning of a dance, was visible in his hind quarters.
“Ah! would you kick!” cried Saxe. “You ruffian, you’d better not. There are plenty of stones, and I’ll give you one for every hoist of those nice little heels.”
He made an “offer,” as boys call it, with the stone, and there was a loud squeal. Gros’s head went down between his fore legs till he had nearly touched the ground, and he was turning himself into a tripod so as to set his hind legs at liberty.
Certainly they seemed at liberty, for he threw them out so vigorously that, as Saxe gazed at the hoofs playing about in the air, they seemed to be sparring and fencing at him, while the tail between whipped and whisked about, and ended by tucking itself in tightly, till Saxe sat down on a rock roaring with laughter, when the mule suddenly ceased its efforts, stood still, and turned its head round to watch him.
“Now it’s coming!” cried Saxe, leaping up and raising the stone again.
The mule squealed defiance, and out flew its heels once more, and this was repeated till, half choked with laughing, Saxe threw down the stone.
“There!” he said: “I wouldn’t throw at you. Poor old chap, then!”
He approached the animal now on the side to which its head was thrust to watch him, and, to his great surprise, Gros did not stir, but moved his head a little, and let him approach, pat his neck, and pull his ears.
“Only your fun, was it, old chap—eh! There! It was only my fun too. It’s all right. Go on, old fellow. But, I say, how long have we been carrying on this game? Suppose my fire’s out!”
He gave the mule a final pat, and then hurried back to the tent, where the fire was burning steadily, but wanted replenishing. This done, he looked at the sleepers, who were both like the Irishman in the old story, paying attention to it; then Saxe told himself that he would continue his watch.