Mike didn't see the twinkle and readily accepted the mule and led him over to where his own turn-out stood.
"Moike Delaney, phot kind av a horse do yez call that?" demanded Rosy.
"It's a mule, ye ignoramus," he answered. "An a good puller, I'll bet me whiskers. Just wait till Oi hitch him beside the tame."
Billy was soon hitched up as Mike desired, and the Irishman proceeded to urge him forward with his short whip.
It was then the fun began. Billy did not appreciate being called upon to do extra work. Instead of pulling, he simply turned around, tangling up and breaking the harness, and began to kick up the black prairie dirt with both hind hoofs.
"Oh, the villain!" spluttered Rosy Delaney, who received the first installment of dirt full in her eyes and mouth. "Moike Delaney, ye made him do that apurpose!" and she shook her fist at her husband. "Ye bould, bad mon!"
"Oi did not," he ejaculated. "Git back there, ye baste!" he added, and tried to hit Billy with his whip. The knowing mule dodged and, turning swiftly, planted a hoof in Mike's stomach so slickly that the
