24 RECREATION. 
dom. Now look you, Jack, do you remem- 
ber the shade, and sweet grass, and cool 
water at Olmos creek? To-night 1 shall 
strike out for that place, and if you have 
any mulehood about you, you will go with 
me. There we will be free, no work and 
all play for the rest of our lives.” 
“But, Kitty, what will they think of us?” 
“What will they think of us?” she re- 
peated slowly, and with that delicate scorn 
of which the mule is master. “What will 
who think of us? If you mean this gang of 
toughs that Dick is with, what do we care 
what they think of us? Should we stay 
here, and have our lives beaten out of us 
when the freedom of the prairies is be- 
fore us?” 
Jack was thoughtful, and as she stopped, 
he said, meekly, 
“Lead on, dear, I will follow you.” 
Three days later, after a fearful waste 
of profanity, 2 wobegone but hopeful look- 
ing mules were found 20 miles from camp, 
standing behind a mesquite bush in silent 
meditation. They had lost their way. As 
Dick, on horseback, galloped into sight 
around the bush Kit gave a scream.° 
“Good Lord! Jump, Jack, jump!” 
Whack! Whack! Whack! fell that ter- 
rible whip on her long sides until she cried 
for mercy. 
“Oh, Jack! Jack! Help me! Kick the 
brute! Kick him! Kick him!” But the 
blacksnake fell on her without pity. 
Kit was pigeon-toed in her left hind foot, 
and, as in the case of the crosseyed man, 
one could never tell where she would 
strike. As Dick dismounted on arriving 
at camp the whip slipped from his hand to 
the ground, not 2 feet from Kit’s left hind 
foot. In a second she had planned a fear- 
ful revenge, and there was a murderous 
gleam in her eye as she estimated the dis- 
tance from her hoof to the whip. As Dick 
lifted it from the ground, with a curse on 
her lips, Kit sent her left hind foot out 
like a catapult, and raised that whip high 
in the air. For an instant it hung above 
our heads, then fell into the watery depths 
of El Chicon, and was felt by Kit no more. 
Whatever else Kit might say about us 
she could not say we were ungrateful. Of 
course Dick occasionally applied the black- 
snake, but even a saint would have done 
that, and Dick was no saint. No, we had 
been good to Kit, and her rash act of 
eloping with Jack, if even a mule lady can 
elope with her own husband, followed by 
that of practically stealing our whip, ruined 
her reputation beyond repair. 
Never again did we pitch a camp, after 
her foolish, mulish escapade, that we did 
not fasten a rope about her neck and tie 
her securely to a. tree, while the hobbles 
were removed from Jack’s legs forever. 
Kit afterward told Jack that in providing 
him with a few days’ freedom and ridding 
him of the whip, she had brought on her- 
self a cruel persecution, 
$15,000 REWARD! 
This foreign lady suddenly appeared in 
Devon, Pa., near the Cathcart Home. She 
spoke only Spanish and Hawaiian, though 
she seemed to be from the North, to prefer 

A BOSTON GIRL? 
the coldest outdoor weather, and to be 
singularly independent of the comforts of 
friends in the Academy of Fine Arts. She 
was lonely, as she was far from her “ain 
countrie,” and had no living relatives, and, 
I am sorry to say, she was badly frozen, as 
she refused to come in out of the cold. 
She “would soon go to a warmer climate.” 
One night she vanished as suddenly as 
she had come. The Arabs never folded 
their tents and stole away more silently. 
modern civilization. 
She was Eastward bound, probably for 
the Hub, where there are kindred spirits, 
some of Carlyle’s “Snow and rose bloom 
maidens,” and where she had some old 
! fear there has been some tragedy, but 
hope for the best. 
Fifteen hundred dollars reward will be 
paid to anyone who will return her to me. 
I feel a natural interest in her as I dis- 
covered her one cold, starlight night, alone 
in the woods near, and brought her out, 
hoping to save her for future usefulness ; 
but with the first breath of spring she fled. 
Thos. L. Gulick, Devon, Pa. 
