Perhaps a month had elapsed, after we were settled there, when, as Master drove leisurely down one of the principal thoroughfares, he noticed a crowd gathered on a corner just ahead. Coming closer we beheld a mule lying on his side, attached to a heavy load of coal. Blows and kicks were falling fast on his head and body.
"Get up, you lazy brute! get up, I say! don't try any of yer tricks on me," and then there were more blows, kicks and curses.
The crowd grinned and seemed amused. Springing from the cart, Master asked a boy to hold me, and elbowed his way to the side of the driver.
Touching him on the arm, he said gently, but firmly: "Don't strike again; there is something wrong here or the creature would get up and go on."
"He's jest cussed lazy!"
"Let me handle him."
With that Master stooped down and stroked the mule's face gently, speaking in a kind, encouraging tone.
Presently when it found it had a friend, it began to struggle to its feet, succeeding at last in standing upright. Then Master began to examine the harness, which was old, stiff and full of knots.
"If you would grease this harness until it is soft, and take more pains in mending it, your dumb servant would thank you for it," he said. At that moment he noticed that when he touched the collar the animal flinched and his fore-leg trembled. Lifting that part of the gearing, there was revealed a spot as large as the hand of a twelve-year-old child, all raw and bleeding.