"So long, Fritzy," said old man Ballinger. "You got a nice cool night for your drive."
Up the road went the little black mules at their steady trot, while Fritz thundered at them occasional words of endearment and cheer.
These fancies occupied the mind of the mail-carrier until he reached the big post oak forest, eight miles from Ballinger''s. Here his ruminations were scattered by the sudden flash and report of pistols and a whooping as if from a whole tribe of Indians. A band of galloping centaurs closed in around the mail wagon. One of them leaned over the front wheel, covered the driver with his revolver, and ordered him to stop. Others caught at the bridles of Donder and Blitzen.
"Donnerwetter!" shouted Fritz, with all his tremendous voice--"wass ist? Release your hands from dose mules. Ve vas der United States mail!"
"Hurry up, Dutch!" drawled a melancholy voice. "Don''t you know when you''re in a stick-up? Reverse your mules and climb out of the cart."←←
It is due to the breadth of Hondo Bill''s demerit and the largeness of his achievements to state that the holding up of the Fredericksburg mail was not perpetrated by way of an exploit. As the lion while in the pursuit of prey commensurate to his prowess might set a frivolous foot upon a casual rabbit in his path, so Hondo Bill and his gang had swooped sportively upon the pacific transport of Meinherr Fritz.