"Just at sundown I hooked up that blind mule of mine to the cart and started fo' home.

As I got shut of the town the stage come in and I seen one passenger, a woman.

Now that mule is slow, Mr.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.