John; I'm free to say there are faster mules, but a set of
harness never went acrost the back of a slower critter than that
one of mine." Yancy, who thus far had addressed himself to Mr.
Crenshaw, now turned to Bladen. "That mule, sir, sees good with
his right eye, but it's got a gait like it was looking fo' the
left-hand side of the road and wondering what in thunderation had
got into it that it was acrost the way; mules are gifted with
some sense, but mighty little judgment."

"Never mind the mule, Bob," said Crenshaw.

"If I can't make the gentleman believe in the everlasting
slowness of that mule of mine, my story ain't worth a hill of
beans," said Yancy.

"The extraordinary slowness of the mule is accepted without
question, Mr. Yancy," said Bladen.

"I'm obliged to you," rejoined Yancy, and for a brief moment he
appeared to commune with himself, then he continued. "A mile out
of town I heard some one sloshing through the rain after me; it
was dark by that time and I couldn't see who it was, so I pulled
up and waited, and then I made out it was a woman. She spoke
when she was alongside the cart and says, 'Can you drive me on to
the Barony?' and it came to me it was the same woman I'd seen
leave the stage. When I got down to help her into the cart I saw
she was toting a child in her arms."

"What did the woman look like, Bob?" said Crenshaw.