All next day we labored through mud, which made my feet feel good, but spoiled the looks of our new shoes. That day the Professor bought a new donkey.
"Sell him cheap, sound as a dye," said the man. Perhaps this was the truth, but he was the funniest donkey I ever set eyes on. His face resembled a poodle dog's, except that it was longer, and he appeared to be a combination of crosses between South American llama, Rocky Mountain sheep, baby camel, and muley cow, with only a sprinkling of donkey blood. After this freak was roped to my saddle and we had proceeded a little way, I asked, "Excuse me, friend, but what stock did you descend from?"
"Why, live stock," said the simpleton.
The rest of us hid our faces; but I persisted, "Who's your father?"
"I never had a father," he returned. "If I did, he never showed up in my lifetime. As for my mother, she kicked the tenderloins out of a farmer's thoroughbred pig, in consequence of which I was left to shift for myself, so you can't call me a shiftless fellow."
Well, the poor fellow ain't quite as bad off as Topsy, I thought—she had neither father nor mother.
For a week back Cheese had been complaining of a weak foot, which explains why Pod desired an emergency donkey. The heavy roads would have taxed a dray horse. But by shifting the burden from Cheese and myself to the new acquisition we were able to make better time with less effort.
The sun was hot, and Poodle's long coat dripped with perspiration. Before long, we were stopped in front of a house, where a man was cutting the grass with a lawn-mower.
"Hay, there, Mister!" Pod shouted; "will you loan me that machine a moment? I'll remunerate you handsomely for the kindness."
The farmer just shouldered that machine and fetched it down to the roadside. Then my master dismounted, and whispering to the granger something I couldn't understand, to my utter astonishment deliberately pushed that lawn-mower almost the whole length of that donkey's back.