Clarence came to the store one night and when everyone was inside and seated he pulled a letter out of his pocket.

   �This is from my brother Charlie up in Mars Hills,� he said, �and I don�t think he�d mind if I share it with you. I�m sure you all remember Charlie�s mule Hank.� He paused long enough for everyone to nod �yes� and then talked on.

   �Hank is the smartest animal in the United States. He does a little mule dance, hee haws a couple light operas, washes windows with his tail, likes to work in the garden, and according to Charlie is becoming a pretty good cook.� A couple eyebrows lifted at that last statement but went back to normal as Clarence went on.

   �You all know after Hank was featured on the front page of the Mars Hills Times he became quite famous. The ladies at the quilting bee made him a nice patch quilt to keep him warm and out of the kindness of his heart Charlie took the whole four dollars he got from the Times for the story and pictures of Hank and really fixed up his room in the barn. All the kids for miles around came to see Hank and hug his neck. Hank really loves kids and he gives them all rides on his back.� Clarence hesitated here for a moment and put on his angry face.

�Charlie says he don�t know who did it but some one from Mars Hills sent the paper to a relative in Boston and before long a couple city slickers wanted to buy Hank. One of those Southerners from down there drove all the way to Mars Hills to talk to Charlie about a making a sale.

   �Why would you want this dumb old mule and what would you do with him in a big city?� Charlie asked his potential buyer.

   �If I owned that mule,� the Bostonian said, �I�d treat him just like one of the family. I see to it he got a nice warm bath every day, ate nothing but the best mule food, I�d give him his own room in my house, and I promise I�d have his hooves manicured every week.� The Bostonian hadn�t noticed that Hank was standing outside the open window listening to every word he said. Hank cleared his throat with a soft hee haw and Charlie walked over to the window to see what Hank wanted. Hank put his nose close to Charlie�s ear and kept it there for a couple minutes. When Hank lowered his head Charlie went back to the rich man in the fourteen dollar suit and said,    �I won�t sell Hank to you. He read your mind and told me what you want him for; and he hates a liar. He said you want to buy him so you can put him in the movies and make a lot of money for yourself. Shame on you. He also said you�d work him like a jackass and have him cook all your meals, make your bed, wash your dishes, and do all the other dirty jobs around your house. But even if I sold Hank to you, you�d never get him off my land. I don�t know if you noticed or not but I have a stream that runs all around my property and you had to cross over a bridge to get to my house. There�s no way possible you could get Hank to ever cross over that bridge. You could have ten of your friends pushing and ten more pulling, but you�d never budge him.�

   �What makes you think I couldn�t get him to cross over that bridge?� the Bostonian asked.

�I�ll tell you what�s the gospel truth,� Charlie said looking the deceitful foreigner straight in the eye, �Being a good Maineiac Hank loves to fish and every time he gets close to the water he sits down on his haunches and can�t be moved by hellfire or brimstone until he�s caught his limit of trout. We all learned a long time ago not to bother him while he's fishing because it makes him a little mad.