He was an old burro, so I couldn't blame him for keeling over. I just wish he'd waited until I'd left Ignacio's village.

'Sorry amigo,' I said, three hundred pesos in my pocket. 'Deal's a deal. I'll help bury him if you'd like.'

'Forget it. I can still make money.'

'From a dead mule? How?'

'A raffle.'

'Impossible.'

But Ignacio couldn't be dissuaded. Months passed before further business brought me back to that village.

'How'd your raffle go?'

'Great. I sold ninety tickets at ten pesos each.'

'Really? And nobody complained?'

'Just my winner. But I gave him a refund.'

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