The Art of Getting Helped

Out on Pemberton's lines I came to a spot on the highway where the road narrowed to about ten feet, and just here was a faded old mule hitched to a wagon with a quarter of a cord of wood. The mule was up to his knees in mud and the wagon was stalled. Reining my horse off to the left, I took a circuit through the thick woods and suddenly came upon a colored man seated on a log and half asleep. 'What are you doing out here?' I asked. 'Waitin',' was his prompt reply. 'For what?' 'Say, boss, did you turn in from de road?' 'Yes.' 'Saw a big mud hole out dar, I reckon?' 'I did.' 'Saw an ole rat-tailed mule stuck fast in de mud?' 'Yes.' 'Well, boss, dat 'stablishment b'longs to dis individual.' 'Then why on earth don't you get the wagon out and move on?' 'Bekase de ole mule won't pull, an' bekase I's dun tired of liftin'. But it's all right, boss; I isn't worried.' Just then we heard the sound of wheels coming up, and a team, with two men in the carriage, had to halt. They shouted 'Nigger!' three or four times, and the man on the log winked to me to keep quiet. Receiving no response, they got down, and, while one played the whip over the old beast, the other lifted on the wheel, and the wagon was rushed out on solid ground, so that the carriage could pass. When it was out of hearing the negro started for the road in a leisurely manner and chuckled back over his shoulder: 'Dat's what I was waitin' for—yaw, yaw, yaw! Tell you what, boss, dar's nuffin' like makin' de white folks take hold an' help boost dis eend of de kentry up a few feet! Whoa! dar, Napoleon! Now you walk on wid dat ar wagin!'