Bobby Blake on a Plantation: or, Lost in the Great Swamp

You can be sure Bobby and Fred had no objection to this, and sure enough, in a little while two husky colored men appeared and took down the necessary harness from pegs on the wall.

“Are you going to hitch up old Baldy?” asked Lee.

“We aim to, Marse Lee,” said one, whose first name was Mose, and whose last name nobody ever seemed to have heard. “But dat mule doan always calculate to do jest whut we wants him to.”

“’Deed he don’t,” agreed the other. “Las’ time Ah come near him, he done took de seat outen my pants, an Ah shore thought Ah was headed straight for Kingdom Come ’fore Ah could get away from him.”

The negro who had spoken first approached the stall cautiously, but the mule heard him coming, and, with ears laid viciously back, lashed out at him with flying heels. But the negro was on his guard, and jumped to one side barely in time to save himself.

“Reckon ole Baldy ain’t feelin’ friendly toward me to-day no-how,” said Mose, with a somewhat nervous grin. “Reckon Ah’d better untie him from de stall nex’ door.”

He went cautiously into the stall adjoining that of old Baldy, and reached over gingerly to untie his halter. But the mule was not to be caught napping, and he made a wicked nip at the negro’s hand. He just missed the hand, but caught the ragged coat sleeve in his white teeth, and tore a long strip from it.

“Mah goodness!” exclaimed the negro, “Ah’d rather monkey wid a load o’ dynamite dan wid dat mule.”

“Try it again, an’ I’ll take his mind offen you,” said the other negro.

He picked up a long rake from a corner, and with this began prodding at the rear end of the mule, while his companion again cautiously approached the halter. This ruse was successful, for the animal was so occupied with trying to kick the rake handle into bits, that he hardly noticed anything else, and Mose had no trouble this time in untying the halter.

“Watch out dare, niggah!” he admonished his assistant. “Everybody git out of de way an’ let this critter sail.”

The boys scattered to places of safety, as the mule, finding his head free, backed out of the stall and made for the open door. There was a fenced-in yard surrounding the stable, and he galloped around this, kicking up his heels and hee-hawing. The two negroes dashed pellmell after him, followed by the laughing boys.

“Now the real fun will begin,” said Lee. “Just watch them try to harness him up.”

CHAPTER XIV

BALDY GIVES IN

The two darkeys had their blood up now, and were resolved to get that mule harnessed or die in the attempt. Mose had the big padded collar, and his companion had the bridle. They crept up warily toward old Baldy, who, with the wisdom born of many such encounters, refused to be cornered, dashing out with surprising speed every time things began to look bad for him. But at last the negroes maneuvered him into a corner from which there was no escape, and then, with a sudden rush, threw themselves at him. Mose caught him round the neck, while the other leaped to his back and clung there with hands and knees. They were wise in the ways of mules, also, and enjoyed a tussle like this, although their enjoyment was tempered by a wholesome respect for the kicking and biting ability of the animal.

But before they could get the collar over his head, Baldy rushed across the yard kicking and rearing, dragging the two negroes after him as though their weight amounted to nothing at all. The negroes held on gamely, though, and at last the mule, despairing of shaking them off, suddenly threw himself down and rolled completely over. The darkeys however had anticipated some such action, and let go just in the nick of time to save themselves.

“That was a narrow escape,” said Bobby, somewhat anxiously. “Aren’t you afraid they’ll get hurt, Lee?”

“I don’t think so,” he answered. “It takes a lot to hurt them, and they’ve done this many times before. Just leave it to them.”

The mule struggled to his feet with his tormentors clinging to him. Suddenly he gave a lightning-like whirl that shook Mose loose in spite of all he could do, and before he could recover himself Baldy had lashed out and caught the darkey fair and square. Fortunately for Mose, he still had hold of the big padded collar, and the mule’s hoofs landed on this with a smart whack. Mose was propelled along several feet, and then, losing his balance, rolled over and over in the dust.

The three boys thought he was badly hurt, and rushed out to his rescue, but before they had gone ten feet the negro had bounded to his feet, just in time to avoid the mule, who was rushing toward him with mouth wide open and wicked teeth gleaming. Temporarily the fight had been knocked out of Mose, and he fled ignominiously for the fence, with old Baldy in hot pursuit. With the other negro clinging desperately around his neck, it was a ludicrous spectacle, and as Mose cleared the fence in a wild scramble with the mule not ten feet behind him, the boys shouted with laughter.

“That was a close shave!” gasped Fred at last. “Old Baldy is out after dark meat to-day, I can see that.”

“Looks to me as though the mule had won the decision,” said Bobby. “How about it, Lee?”

“Oh, they can’t give up now,” said Lee. “That mule would never be worth a cent to us again if they let him win. But I’m going to see if a little strategy won’t help them out.”

“You two wait a minute,” he called to the negroes, who were by now both on the safe side of the fence, mopping at their streaming faces, and started on a run for the barn. He soon emerged, carrying a heaped measure with oats. Baldy was at the other end of the yard, watching proceedings with deep suspicion. Lee emptied the oats on the ground within two feet of the fence, and then rejoined his friends.

“You two wait until he starts to eat the oats, and then jump on him,” he shouted to the negroes.

“Yessah,” responded Mose, with a grin. “’Clare to goodness, Ah’d clean forgot dat you can ketch more flies wid honey dan yuh can wid vinegar.”

When Baldy saw the tempting heap of oats, it occurred to him that a little something to eat wouldn’t be so bad, and he sidled over to them and began eating. The darkeys secured the harness that they had been forced to drop, and crept cautiously up on the mule, who was now thinking only of how delicious oats could taste to a hungry mule. Mose mounted the fence just back of old Baldy, while his companion crept close to the mule’s other side. Suddenly Mose leaped squarely on his back. With a frightened snort the mule jerked his head up, and at that second Mose slipped the heavy collar over his neck. At the same moment the other negro slipped the bridle over his head, forced the bit into his mouth, and before he could flick his tail old Baldy found himself arrayed in harness. The suddenness of the attack seemed to take all the spirit out of the mule, and when he found himself actually harnessed he submitted with only a few feeble kicks and bucks as protest against the trick that had been played on him. He was soon hitched to the wagon, and it rattled out of the yard with the two colored men on the seat laughing and throwing insults at the subdued Baldy.

“That was some inspiration you had, Lee,” said Bobby. “I thought at one time you’d have to call in the police if you wanted to get him harnessed.”

“Oh, that’s an old trick,” said the Southern lad. “I’ve seen those same darkeys do the same thing, but I guess this time they were so rattled they didn’t think of it.”

“Well, I’m glad they didn’t do that at the beginning,” said Fred. “We’d have missed a lot of fun if they had. I don’t think I’ll ever forget how funny Mose looked streaking for the fence with that mule snapping his teeth right behind him.”

“Yes, old Mose was a scared darkey, all right,” laughed Lee. “But now, I don’t know about you fellows, but I for one am beginning to feel as though I could appreciate some of Aunt Dinah’s cooking.”

“Well, suppose you lead us to it and let us show you how we feel about it,” said Bobby. “As they often remind us in school, it’s deeds that count, not words.”

“All right, then, just follow me and I’ll give you a chance to demonstrate,” said Lee.

“Lead on,” said Fred, “and remember that we’re with you to the last doughnut.”

“Oh, I know I can count on you,” returned Lee, as he and his friends headed for the house. “But I know you can’t eat too much to suit Aunt Dinah. The more you pack away, the more she thinks you like her cooking. She is sure an artist when, it comes to performing on a cook stove.”

Arrived at the house, the boys found that Lee’s praise of Aunt Dinah’s abilities had been well founded. Creamy, luscious biscuits, tender, juicy fried chicken, with various tempting side dishes, were topped off by an apple pie that Fred later referred to as “a dream,” and when they finally adjourned to the spacious veranda they felt at peace with all the world.

“Why, I feel so good I think I could even forgive Ap Plunkit for soaking me with a baseball, the way he did last season,” said Fred.

“Well, Lee, if you ever had a grudge against Fred, now’s the time to hit him,” said Bobby. “He wouldn’t even try to hit you back. He’d just shake hands with you and forgive you.”

“I’d advise you to try it,” said Lee, scornfully. “I know it always takes an awful lot to make Fred mad, but still, I’m not going to chance it.”

Mrs. Cartier, who was an interested listener, laughed. “That’s all that boys seem to think of – eating and fighting,” she said. “Sometimes I wonder how they ever get time to study.”

“Well,” said Bobby, “at school, especially, there always seems to be some one who’ll bully everybody else, if he gets the chance, and so once in a while we just have to show him that he can’t.”

“I suppose so,” she said. “The world always seems to have plenty of trouble makers.”

CHAPTER XV

THE LAND SHARK

“Like Jim Boolus, for instance,” said Lee, his face clouding over. “What is he up to now, Mother? Has he been trying to make trouble again?”

“He’s always trying to do that,” responded Mrs. Cartier, “and the worst of it is, he so often succeeds.”

“Lee was telling us something about him,” said Bobby, “but I’m afraid Fred and I don’t understand it very well, anyway.”

“Well,” said Mrs. Cartier, “our family has owned this plantation over a hundred years, and until recently there was no question of our ownership. But now, this Jim Boolus has laid claim to all the southern half of our land, and while we and all our neighbors are morally certain that his claim is dishonest, we find it a difficult thing to prove according to law.”

“You see,” explained Lee, “when my great-grandfather bought this land it was wild country, nothing but woods and swamps. He had it surveyed at that time, and the four corners were marked off by four large stones. When he bought the land, the southern end included a small part of the big swamp, or Shadow Swamp, as it is known in this neighborhood. The first Cartier, by means of hard work and at great expense, managed to drain the part of the swamp included in his land, and it was on this reclaimed land that the boundary stones were set up. For many years this was one of the most fertile parts of the plantation, but then came the war, and while that was going on the swamp crept up on the drained land and swallowed it up, and with it the boundary stones that would, I believe, prove our ownership.”