Nobody loved Gruntli, for he was a hard master with his servants. Though he called himself “a man of science,” and sneered at the village folks, when they went to church on Sunday, he did nothing to help the poor people of the valley.
Part of the wealth, of this hard-hearted man, consisted in mules, of which he had twenty or more. These were sumpters, or pack animals, that carried the milk, butter, cheese, and produce of the valley, to be sold in the nearest large city, and to bring back what was needed.
Gruntli’s favorite animal for the saddle was a pure-blooded white ass, which his father had given him, when a boy, so that he and the dumb brute were well acquainted with each other. Large in size and imposing in appearance, this animal was named Julius Cæsar; or, for short, “Gulick,” for that was the way the great Roman conqueror’s name was pronounced in the local dialect.
People used to say that this donkey was the only living creature for which Gruntli cared, or had any affection; or, that he even treated decently. [[252]]Occasionally, his master would allow this, his favorite beast, to be ridden by his overseer, or chief clerk—a privilege on which this head man set great store. The sure-footed creature carried its rider over the most dangerous passes. It seemed almost a miracle, the way in which, along narrow ledges of rock, the ass moved as if on a well-paved road.
Gulick seemed to measure with its eye, and gauge the width necessary, even making allowance for its load, for the pack saddle, or for the knees of the rider; so that, though a dumb beast, its reputation for safety was great in all the region. Muleteers often used to scold their stubborn animals, by calling them “rabbit-eared fools,” and “not worth one hoof of Gulick,” the paragon among long eared animals.
Nevertheless, there were times, when the donkey, Gulick, showed that it had a mind of its own. Then it could be stubborn, too. But this was what men thought, and not the animal’s own opinion of itself. This usually took place, when it saw that the path ahead, or the ledge of rock, over which it was expected to pass, with a pack load, or a stout lady in the saddle, or a big fat fellow, with both legs far out and taking up the room, between the ass and the rock.
Then, no amount of scolding, yelling, bad temper, hard names, or even beating, could move [[253]]the creature. The only thing to do was to get off and unload. In fact, the ass had a very poor opinion of some human beings. He even pitied them, because they had only two legs, while donkeys had four.
Not once, in all its long life, did Gulick lose its way, slip, fall down, or have an accident. In fact, its master could go to sleep, while riding home. When, as was often the case, the man was too full of strong wine, to sit up straight, this was a good thing; for a sober donkey has more brains than a drunken man.
Some people, who believed in fairies, even thought that Gulick was really a human being who, for doing something wicked, in another world, had been changed, by a fairy, into this creature with the shaggy hide, ropy tail and ears like a jack rabbit’s.
An event, that seemed to furnish a fresh foundation for the common belief, took place near the village of Plurs. Then, the general idea, that a man had, somehow, got into an ass’s skin, was confirmed.