"Guess I ought to know the difference 'tween spasms and spavins," he returned, sourly. "Those d—— mules o' yourn kicked out petitions, hollared, and had such fits last night that they scared all the mice and rats outen the haymow."
"What kind of petitions?" I asked, remembering I had been tempted to issue a petition on my own account.
"What kind d'y, 'spose? Wooden petitions," said he. "And when I crawled out o' bed and went to the stalls to see what ailed 'em——"
"Ailed the petitions?" I interrupted, excitedly.
"Naw, the mules,—something like a thousand rats and mice ran over my bare feet. I thought the barn must be afire, and I jumped so the lantern fell outen my hand and broke, and I had to feel my way in the dark."
"You ought to know better than to feel around strange donkeys, night or day," said I, reprovingly.
"It wasn't th' feelin' of 'em what broke me up so," said he. "'Twas the kindlin' wood they piled up again me."
I did not discuss further the circumstances; I was quite satisfied, since we had grievances in common. While settling my bill, I noticed Mac gaze at the ceiling, so I glanced upward, too, and at once saw hanging to a nail on a cross-beam a circular rat-trap, bent almost flat, and containing two dead rodents. That solved the mystery. On recovering the trap, we found it sprinkled with donkey hair, and sheep twine, which was proof enough that some young villain had fastened a cage full of rats to Mac A'Rony's tail, he being the most amiable of the donkeys. There is nothing like the mysterious to frighten a dumb brute, and when that donkey heard strange noises and felt mysterious movements about his hind legs, he didn't wait for an explanation. Good-bye, rats!
Although the day dawned clear, dark clouds began early to bank in the Southwest, and before I could reach the next town I was drenched by a heavy shower. But I was fortunate in selling Cheese II, my weak-footed jack, for seven dollars to the village butcher, who, while in Ashton, had generously fed my dog.
Wet to my skin, I took refuge in a German tavern managed by a widow with five comely daughters. All were kind and responsive to my wants, and brought to my room a varied assortment of house pets, literature, and cheese, not omitting a bottle of beer, for my entertainment and refreshment, while I remained in bed enveloped in comforters, waiting for my only suit of clothes to dry by the kitchen fire. Meanwhile I became almost asphyxiated from the gas generated by the Limburger cheese which had already smothered two hearty slices of bread. The next day I spent in Dixon, and the following day in Sterling, situated on Rock River. From my bedroom window I had a charming view of the dam falls and the iron bridge which spans the stream. My sojourn in both these towns was profitable.