"'Case dat fool mu-el won't cross no bridge if yo' doan' cotch his off eah en give hit a pull. Mu-els is mouty queer daterway, en Gin'ral Jackson is a heap queerer dan any othah mu-el yo' most evah see. He's skeered ob a bridge, en pullin' his off eah done takes his min' off'n de bridge, lak, en he goes ovah wifout mistrustin'. Now, dat yalluh Chinymum trash doan' know dat, en ef he try to mek Gin'ral Jackson cross de bridge wifout pullin' his off eah, dar's suah gwine to be doin's, en——"
Just at that moment a boy came along on a bicycle. He was evidently making a long journey, for he had a bag strapped to the handle bars.
"Wait a minute!" called Matt to the boy.
The bicycle halted, and the lad rested one foot on the ground and looked inquiringly at Matt.
"I wish you'd lend me your wheel for a few minutes," said Matt. "A Chinaman just stole this old darky's mule, and I believe I can overhaul the thief if you'll let me take your bicycle."
"Gee!" exclaimed the boy. "How much of a start has the Chinaman got?"
"About three minutes. The darky says there's a bridge a mile ahead, and that the mule won't cross the bridge unless he's coaxed. Perhaps I can come up with the thief at the bridge."
"There you are," said the stranger generously, getting out of the saddle and holding the wheel for Matt.
"Much obliged," returned Matt. "You and the darky come on to the bridge, and perhaps you'll find me rounding up the mule and the Chinaman."
"We'll do it," was the answer.