8^ 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Feb. 2, igoi. 
The Passing of Satan. 
Hiram Meeks threw away the stick on which he had 
been whittling, closed his jack-knife with a snap and rose 
slowly to his feet. 
"By Godfrey, I'll do it ef hit takes a leg," he declared 
aloud, in the tones of a man who after long deliberation 
has settled some question of weighty import in his mind. 
Tt was apt to prove a cause for deep regret — ^this de- 
cision of his — gance it involved an act of no less temerity, 
or even folly, than the purchase of a certain, four-footed 
beast known far and near as "that mule'o' Saunders'." 
Hiram had been debating the question with himself for 
two whole days, to the exclusion of all other thoughts. 
In a measure Sam Hawkins was to blame for this state 
of affairs, for it was he who had informed Hiram that 
the mule could be "bought for a song." Some people 
can never resist the temptation of a bargain. Hiram 
shared in the general feeling of distrust in which this 
creature of ill repute was held hy the entire community; 
on the other hand, he was greatly in need of another 
beast of burden on his farm, as his entire live stock con- 
sisted of a solitary bay mare of uncert-ain age, whose 
days of usefulness were on the wane. The mule in 
question was without doubt of a superior breed phys- 
icallj' as well as mentally, although greatly deficient in 
amiability; but Hiram was under the impression that 
this latter undesirable trtiit of character was due to a lack 
of proper training". Therefore, after considering all sides 
of the question, he had come to the conclusion that if 
Saunders were willing to part with the mule at a suffi- 
ciently low figure, he himself would assume the grave 
responsibility of ownership. 
He was the possessor of a small fortune amounting to 
forty dollars— the savings of years — and with this sum 
he hoped to complete the purchase. A good mule was 
worth considerably more than this amount, but if Sam 
Hawkins had told the truth Savmders did not expect to 
sell his mule for anwhere near its full value. Well, it 
would do no possible harm to investigate the ma±ter, so 
Hiram removed his treasure from its secret hiding place 
and set out on his visit to Saunders. 
It Avas early in December. The air was fresh and in- 
vigorating, and Hiram covered ground rapidly with his 
long, swinging stride. As he drew near the abode of 
Saunders he looked about for some sign of that in- 
dividual. The sound of a voice coming from the direction 
of the barnyard reached his ears, and he approached the 
fence and peered over. The voice was Saunders'. He 
was seated on an overturned water trough in his favorite 
attitude, and addressing his remarks to the only other 
occupant of the yard — ^his notorious black mule. 
The mule was hitched to the stable door by a heavy 
rope that encircled his neck, and he seemed greatly 
depressed in spirit. Though well acquainted with this 
fickle-minded creature, Hiram had never before seen him 
in such a melancholy mood, and his curiosity was aroused 
as to the cause of his dejection. He therefore inter- 
rupted Saunders' invective against mules (for such 
seemed to be the tenor of his remarks) with an: 
"Howdy, Eb! What 'pears t' be the trouble?" 
Saunders turned his head without otherwise disturbing 
himself. 
"Howdy, Hi," he responded. "'Ther' ent no trouble 
t' speak on, I was jest a-tellin' Satan a few idees 'baout 
his doggon self an' his hull doggon relations." 
"Who all's Satan?" Hiram inquired, puzzled at the 
name. 
"That air mule thar," Saunders answered, indicating 
the black mule with a nod. "Ever sence he made all 
that fussin' with them Wright county folks I've called 
him Satan. 'Twant my idee. 'Twas Sam Hawkins'. 
Sam's up on religion, y' know, an' he sez I orter call 
him Satan, so I done it. Hit seems t' suit him fust 
rate." 
"What's he been doin' naow that y' got him all tied 
up?" Hiram asked. 
"Nuthin special," said Saunders. "I've lieked him till 
I'm tired an' he don't seem t' give a cuss; but when he's 
hitched that away with a slipknot raound his neck an' 
I preach at him, he don't seem t' feel so doggon gay like. 
Hit sorter takes the sperits out o' him. But whar you all 
baound fer?" 
"Oh, I was jest passin' 'long this way," Hiram replied, 
evading the question, "an' I thought I'd stop an' see how 
you all v/as gittin' on." 
"Better come in an' sit daown awhile," Saunders sug- 
gested. 
"Don't care ef I do," said Hiram. 
He entered the barnyard and, seating himself beside 
his friend, waited for a favorable opportunity to open 
negotiations. As Saunders' mind was filled with nothiiig 
but thoughts of the mule, Hiram was not kept long in 
suspense. 
"Say, do y' know that mule ent brayed onct sence he's 
bin hit'ched that away?" the old man remarked. "He 
used t' keep it ttp 'baout all night, an' I got so used t' 
hearin' him I can't sleep good sence he quit. Funny, ent 
it?" 
"Hit air that," Hiram assented. "That mule's made 
a heap o' trouble fer you all, ent he?" 
"Heaps an' heaps," Saunders made answer, casting his 
eyes severely on the subject of the conversation. 
''Say, Eb." Hiram drawled after a moment's medita- 
tion, "what'l! you all take fer the mule? What's yore 
lowest figgers?" 
'•Meanin' Satan?" Saunders asked in amazement. 
"Meanin' Satan, to be sure," said Hiram. 
"Re y' jokin' or in arnest?" 
"Solemn arnest." 
*'What in blazes do you all want t' buy sech a devul 
tiv a -critter fer?" Saunders asked with increasing wonder- 
ment. "I don't 'low t' cheat no friend o' mine that 
away. Hi. That air mule's a mean, onery cuss, that's 
what "be is, an' he knows hit by this time. I was figgerin* 
t' sell him over in Wright county." 
"Waal, what'll f take fer him?" Hiram persisted. 
"I'd sell him doggon cheap." Saunders declared "I'd 
him. fer thirty^ve dollars," 
"Waal then," said Hiram, "seein' as I'm rich I'll take 
yore offer, ef you'll let me hev a try at him fust. I'll ride 
him over hum an' see what he's good fer." 
"You all must be crazy," Saunders exclaimed. "Why,, 
he'd throw yuh afore you'd got t' the end o' my forty." 
"I'll risk it," Hiram rejoined. "Jest hitch him up.. 
I never seen the mule or boss I couldn't manage." 
"Waal, 'tent any o' my funeral," Saunders remarked^ 
yielding the point, and forthwith he proceeded to saddle: 
and bridle Satan. 
Now, whether the mule divined the situation and. die- 
cided to adopt politic measures for the occasion, thus 
reinstating himself in his master's good graces, or 
whether his proud spirit had at last been broken and he 
himself brought to a proper realization of the futility ofi 
continuing further in his unprofitable course of opposi- 
tion to authority, will never be known. Certain it is 
that he yielded himself with sublime meekness into* 
Saunders' hands, nor did he give evidence of ill-temper or 
a disposition to rebel, by so much as the laying back o£ 
an ear. Hiram mounted him without need of the cus- 
tomary persuasive arguments, and rode away in perfect 
security on his journey. Satan was a good roadster, 
when he was minded so to be, and he now settled down 
into the swift, easy gait which he employed for his 
owner's benefit only on rare occasions. Saunders' as- 
tonishment knew no bounds. 
"An' jest t' think that preachin' at him done the biz- 
ness," he refiected aloud, as Hiram and the mule dis,- 
appeared from view. It was the only satisfactory ex- 
planation that occurred to him that would in any wajjr 
account for the miraculous change in Satan's dispositionv^^^ 
Hiram expected to be absent two or three days. Dur- 
ing that interval Saunders had ample time for reflectionv 
and the more he thought about the matter the more- 
reluctant did he become to part with tlie black mule. 
To begin with, he had owned Satan a good while and! 
had growTi attached to him in a way, for the strange 
animal furnished almost the only diversion in his life of 
wearisome monotony. Existence on the lonely, half' 
cultived farm of forty acres would indeed be well nighi 
hopeless without the presence of the erratic, unruly Satan.. 
He was always so very much in evidence. Moreover, and! 
most important of all, thirty-five dollars was a ridicu- 
lously lov.' price to pay for a mule. No, it could not be- 
thought of. Surely Hiram would see it in that light, too. 
At any rate, if he wished to purchase Satan he would have 
to pay considerably more than thirty-five dollars, either 
in caish or trade. Having come to this decision Saunders, 
anxiously awaited his friend's return. 
Hiram appeared on the third day, and Saunders went 
forth to meet him. The old man made no secret of hia 
anxiety regarding the mule's behavior. 
"He''s gentle as a lamb. I don't want no better actini'" 
critter in mine," Hiram reported as they unsaddled &£• 
docile creature and turned him loose in the barnyardL. 
"Glad y' think so, cause hit shows I've larnt a new- 
way t' break mules," said Saunders, and led the way to 
the house where they could talk things over at their ease. 
They seated themselves in front of the big fireplace ancE 
lit their pipes. Hiram opened negotiations. 
"Ef hit's all the same t' you," he announced, "I'm ready 
t' pay you all that thirty-five dollars, an' ride the mule 
home to-day." ' 
"Waal," Saunders drawled in reply, "I reck'n we'd 
better talk some fust. Y' see when I offered Satan fer 
sech a ludickerous figger I was mad at him; bein' as I've 
cooled daown consid'able sence. my price is gone upi 
accordin', an' I reck'n hit'll take more'n thirty-five to. 
buy him this evenin'." 
Hiram was unfeigncdly surprised. ' 
"Whv, I jest 'baout reck'nd the sale was made," he 
remonstrated. "Y' beant goin' back on your word, be: 
" 'Tent goin' back. Hit's only lookm' at the thing fair 
an' square like," Saunders replied in self defense. "You; 
a!] knows that air mule's wuth more'n thirty-five dollars,. 
Hi." 
•'Waal, I ent sayin' but what he is wuth more," Hirami 
adtnitted. "I got all o' my fortune 'long an' I'm game, 
so how'll forty even do?" 
"Forty, an' what t' boot?" asked Saunders. 
"T' boot?" Hiram exclaimed. "Not a dern cent, by 
Godfrey Simpson Daniels." . • 
"Then, hi ganny, I reck'n Satan stays whar he is, 
Saunders decfared with decision. 
Hiram puffed away at his pipe m silence for a few 
moments, thinking deeply. 
"I tell yuh what I'll do," he finally announced. 1 111 
give forty an' tite old bay mare." 
Saunders considered the proposition a while. 
"Haow old be the mare?" he asked._ ^ 
"Hard tellin," Hiram replied. "She's old 'nuft t be 
stiddy. She ent no colt, but she ent got nuthm' onusualL 
the matter with her." „ - , o j 
"Waal, you all bring the mare over, said Saunders^ 
"an' let t'nc hev a look at her, an' then we'll talk tradin'." 
"A.11 right," Hiram acquisced. "I'll ride 'er over to- 
morrow mawnin'— I'd better be startin' fer hum naow, I 
reck'n. Waal, s'long. You'll like the mare. She s a 
doggon stiddy critter, she is.'' , ^ , 
"Stiddiness has its p'ints," Saunders remarked, as he 
ushered his friend to the door. "Reck'n Satan 'll^be all 
right till mawnin' without hitchin'. Waal, s'long." 
"S'long," Hiram responded, and started away down 
the road. „ , , , . ^- ^ 
"S'lono-" Saunders called back a second time, and 
re-entered the house and set about preparing his simple 
evening meak , r . ^- ty 
The next morning, shortly after breakfast time, Miram 
rode up to Saunders' cabin a-straddle the back of the 
aged mare Most of the Douglas couHty horses were 
built on lines peculiar to that section of the country,_ and 
this p?rticular mare was no exception to the rule. Hiram 
discovered his friend .seated on the big boulder beside 
the road, just opposite the barnyard gate, and greeted 
him with a cheerful, "?Towdy, Eb!'' 
Saunders was in a deiected mood and responded m a 
half-hearted manner to Hiram's _ salutation. . 
"Waal has Satan bin behavm' like an angel? the 
visitor facetiously inquired, as he swung himself off the 
mare's back. 
The old m^n sighed deeply, _ ^ 
"That's haew he's bin behavin'," he responded, indi- 
cating with a jerk of his thumb a gap in the fence and 
.some broken boards that lay scattered over the ground. 
The words and the gesture spoke volumes. 
"Y' don't mean ," Hiram began and paused, letting 
his gaze travel from Saunders to the remains of what 
had once been the barnyard gate, and then back to 
Saunders again. 
Saunders nodded his head. "He's skunt aoimt again," 
was the only information he vouchsafed to give. 
"Waal, I swan! Who'd a-thunk it!" Hiram exclaimed, 
and then slowly seated himself on the boulder beside his 
friend. His next move was the natural one, under the 
•circumstances, and hardly unexpected. He produced a 
■dark brown bottle from his hip pocket, extracted the 
■cork with his teeth and passed the flask over to Saunders. 
They each took a long pull in turn, which apparently 
had the desired effect of relieving the tension of their 
Jeelings. 
"What you all goin' t' do 'baout it?" Hiram asked. 
"Ther' ent no use doin' nuthin'," Saunders replied. 
"We'll hev t' wait till the dern cuss makes up his mind 
±' come back." 
"Mebbe you'd take less'n forty an' the mare naow?" 
Hiram ventured, after a moment's silence. 
"Ef you all wants that air limb o' Satan arter this," 
the old man answered with decision, "you kin name yore 
•own price, ef hit ent onreas'nble." 
"How does twenty an' the mare strike you?" 
"Make 'er twenty-five an' hit's a go." 
"Hiram deliberated. "All right," he finally agreed, 
"she's a go, an' I'll clinch the bargin with a fiver." So- 
;saying he drew forth a greasy leather purse and counted 
•out five silver dollars into Saunders' outstretched hand. 
"I'll ride over to-morrer an' git the mule ef he's back: 
then," Hiram answered as he rose to take his leave. 
"I kin manage him all right, Hit seems like he had it 
in fer you all." 
"Hit suttenly do," Saunders assented in resigned tones. 
Hiram departed, leaving Saunders seated on the boulder 
wrapt in the contemplation of the vacant barnyard. 
The day passed without event and with no signs of 
the vagrant mule. When Hiram arrived on the scene 
the next morning he found Saunders in anything but a 
Iiappy frame of mind. The two men discussed the situa- 
tion anew, but without coming to any satisfactory con- 
clusion. Hiram was about to take his leave when a small 
boy, mounted on a scraggy looking pony, drew rein in 
front of the house. 
"Does Eb Saunders live yere?" he called out. 
"That's me. son," Saunders answered, coming forward. 
'■'What's wanted?" 
"Pap sez fer you all t' come an' git yore doggon ole 
mule," the boy replied. "He's bin tearin' 'raound awful, 
an' pap sez fer you t' bring a couple o' dollars 'long fer 
•damages what the mule done afore pap got him shet up 
:in the bam." 
"What's yore dad's name, son?" Saunders inquired. 
"Bill White," the boy informed him. "We live in 
Wright county. You all was at our haouse onct afore 
lookitv fer yore mule the time that man thar," pointing 
;at Hiram, "an' another man sot on pap while you was 
a-huntin' fer the mule." 
"All right," said Saunders, with resignation, "Tell 
yore dad I'll come arter the mule an' settle everything." 
The boy wheeled his pony about and cantered away 
without further words. The men gazed at each other 
blankly. Here was "a new complicationi to be dealt with. 
"I reck'n," said Miram, "I'd better go 'long, too, in 
case o' trouble with that man White. He mought git 
reckless." 
"He suttenly mought," Saunders admitted. "I'd be 
right glad o' yore company, Hi," and they made ready 
for the journey. 
During Satan's brief sojourn on the Wright county 
man's farm he had made life interesting for every living 
thing on the place, and Saunders considered himself 
lucky in escaping with only two dollars damages to pay. 
The two men never forgot the ride back from Wright 
county. The mule disputed each step of the way, and 
balked at every turn in the road. With each new devel- 
opment of his man3^ sided character his value as a 
domestic animal decreased, and by the time he was safely 
housed in his own rightful quarters his owner, in de- 
spair, had agreed to part with him for fifteen dollars- and 
the bay mare, 
As it was late in the day when they returned, Hiram 
decided to spend the night with Saunders and take 
possession of the mule the next day. To avoid a repeti- 
tion of such an experience as they had just passed 
through, they resorted to the method Saunders had for- 
merly employed, and hitched the mule securely with a 
slip knot about his neck. They then administered the 
well-deserved chastisement and left him to meditate upon 
his sins. 
It will never be known what bitter thoughts entered 
Satan's mind that night. It will never be known what 
feelings of rage and despair surged through his breast. 
He had tried and failed. He had resorted to strategy 
and had feigned meekness to gain his ends, but all to 
no avail. He had allowed himself to be ridden without 
a single protest by one of those great hulking man 
creatures, a stranger at that. He had humbled his pride 
and had behaved himself as any ordinary Douglas county 
plug might have done, and all for what? Why, merely 
for a brief moment's independence — the transitor}^ joj'- of 
creating confusion and disorder in another man creature's 
barnyard, only to be driven into a prison at the points of 
a pitchfork. Those two-legged animals called men never 
did fight fair. Here was this rope about his neck. If he 
attempted to pull away and break it. it only choked him. 
That rope! Ugh! How it galled one's spirit as well as 
one's flesh! He would not submit any longer. Libertv 
or death! One or the other should be his portion. He 
would be free. 
And then a tragedy occurred out there in the darkness 
behind the walla of the black mule's prison house. 
Whether, in his efforts to break loose, he accidentally 
threw himself, or whether, realizing that escape was im- 
possible, he deliberately hanged himself, will always re- 
main one of the secrets of the dead. They found him in 
tjie morning. He was free at last. The rope that was 
to have insured liis :s^fe Jceeping had prpve^ the cau^g- 
