“Every expert is called a ‘sharp’ out here. If he is a good poker-player he is called a card-sharp; if he is an eloquent preacher he is called a gospel-sharp—and no disrespect is intended either. It is simply a plainsman way of talking. He has heard somewhere that you are backed up by a university, and that’s the reason he calls you a college-sharp. It’s a pretty fair looking rig, isn’t it? I don’t know that you can do better, for you may rest assured that the quartermaster wouldn’t pick out anything inferior for you. You can easily find sale for it when you come back; and, if your horse is lost, and you don’t feel like buying another, you can ride the mule when you want to go hunting. Now, then, what are you laughing at?”
“I am laughing at the idea of making a hunting horse out of a mule,” replied Oscar.
“Now, I’ll tell you what’s a fact—they make good ones,” exclaimed the lieutenant. “One of our favorite scouts rides a mule on all his hunting excursions, and that same mule can make an elk break his trot quicker than any thoroughbred in the regiment.”
The officer might almost as well have talked Greek, for Oscar did not know what he meant when he spoke of an elk being made to break his trot; but, before he could ask an explanation, the lieutenant continued:
“You look him over, and I’ll go and find the major. It isn’t always safe to invest in horse- or mule-flesh in this country until you know how many owners it has. You don’t want to pay for it more than once.”
The young officer hurried off as he said this, and Oscar was left to complete his examination alone.
It was easy enough to see that the mule was a superior animal. Although he was not very large or heavy, he was well put together, and looked strong enough to draw a much weightier vehicle than the one to which he was hitched—a light “three-spring,” built something like an ambulance, and provided with a canvas top to protect its cargo from the weather.
Oscar had already made up his mind to purchase, and a few words from the major—who presently came up—confirmed him in his decision.
The money—a good round sum—was paid over to the owner, who departed satisfied; the mule and wagon were given into the charge of one of the teamsters, and Oscar and the lieutenant hurried to their rooms to get ready for supper.
During the meal the loss of Oscar’s pony was discussed, and the conclusion at which all the officers arrived was that the young taxidermist was just fifty dollars out of pocket, besides the amount he had paid for the lasso, saddle, and bridle, which the animal had carried away with him.