Atlanta semi-weekly journal. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1898-1920, 1909-04-16

At the foot Of a steep, red hill out
on Harralson street, just beyond Fit Nc
Pherson, lies a pile of enchanted stove
wood. Within the past three days 1t has
proved death to three stalwart mules
that dared its evil genii and tried to draw
IL up the hill into the back yard of Mrs
Dora Mccoy. its owner. \And there IL
still lies, stick on stick in stolid, mysteri-
Gus defiance of all natural powers to
move ii. Is there anybody who has
mule he wishes to test?
Last Saturday morning Mrs McCool
bought the wood from a strange coun-
tryman who promised to return In two
hours and haul it up to her yard from
the foot of the hill, where he threw it
off. Noon came without a sight of the
countryman. Mrs. McCool wanted her
wood, so she stopped a passing wagon ana
bargained with it's negro driver to bring
it up for her. He had a stout gray mule
harnessed to his wagon and fell to his
task with cheerful vim.
But no sooner had the powerful beast
moved forward in response to his mas
ters cluck, than it's knees trembled, then
sank and he lay stiffening in death. The
darkey was dumbfounded. His mule had
often drawn loads three times as heavy
as the wood and to all appearances was
sound in every limb and organ.
Its Jest his fool mule temp ament made
him do dat" said the negro at he cut
loose the traces and dragged the carcass
from the road.
Then he threw the wood out again,
borrowed a horse and drove away.
Some 40 minutes later Mrs. McCool spied
truck wagon gathering along the high
way. She hailed its owner, explained to
him that she needed the wood stored at
once and that she would pay him well.
Second Mules Waterloo
Sure" he cried doughtily. 'I'Il have it
up for you in a blink"
His mule was of that toughened and
sturdy Georgia breed that will attempt
anything from kicking the ribs out of
a ploughman to baking five hours at a
time beneath a blistering midsummer
SUM- At sight of the wood pile, ne lifted
his upper lip derisively. hee-hawed in
jocular vein and stood with his long ears
laid back.
"Wo," muttered the truck farmer, sus-
pecting trouble.
In five minutes the wood was loaded,
With lunge the mule sprang forward
as though he would take the hill in
gallop. Then of a sudden, his weather.
beaten sides shook with a terrible heave.
His nostrils bulged blood. For an in
slant he half turned him hammer-like
neaQ IN reprOdCnIul Blance toward MS
owner and then with a despairing cough
fell a lifeless heap.
We'll, I'll be dog" exclaimed the man,
what sort of wood is this anyhow"
The afternoon wore on. In the road
side bushes stretched two stark forms
and at the foot of the hill lay the wood
pile. A dozen or so residents of the COM
munity, having heard of these strange
occurrences, had come to view the re-
mains and to speculate on the cause of
the uncanny business. Some suggested
collie, others blind staggers. still others
the notorious woody tick" with which
Georgia's department of agriculture is
now battling so valiantly. While the
crowd hung about thus theorizing on the
vicissitudes of a mules existence, a
brisk, mud-colored, fiery-eyed animal at
tached to a rural buggy and driven by a
man of determined features came snort
ing down upon the scene. Three Of the
spectators ran forth and waved their hats
in signal for him to stop. He drew rein
haughtily, leaped out, hustled around the
wood pile several times and then said:
Pooh. 1 could move that wood myself.