by all human standards it should have been, of course. But instead of
being dead the box of tricks ups and gives the donk another butt and
moves on. That roused the mule properly. He closed his eyes and laid
into the tank for dear life; you could hear it clanging a mile away.

"After delivering two dozen of the best, the moke turned round to
sniff the cold corpse, but the corpse was still warm and smiling. Then
the mule went mad and set about the tank in earnest. He jabbed it in
the eye, upper-cut it on the point, hooked it behind the ear, banged
its slats, planted his left on the mark and his right on the solar
plexus, but still the tank sat up and took nourishment.

"Then the donkey let a roar out of him and closed with it; tried
the half-Nelson, the back heel, the scissors, the roll, and the
flying-mare; tried Westmoreland and Cumberland style, collar and
elbow, Cornish, Græco-Roman, scratch-as-scratch-can and Ju-jitsu.
Nothing doing. Then as a last despairing effort he tried to charge
it over on its back and rip the hide off it with his teeth.

"But the old tank gave a 'good-by ee' cough of its exhaust and rumbled
off as if nothing had happened, nothing at all. I have never seen
such a look of surprise on any living creature's face as was on that
donk's. He sank down on his tail, gave a hissing gasp and rolled over
stone dead. Broken heart."

"Is that the end?" Albert Edward inquired.

"It is," said Monk; "and if you go outside and look half-right you'll
see the bereaved Mr. O'Dwyer, all got up in sack-cloth, cinders
and crêpe rosettes, mooning over the deceased like a dingo on an