I thought of cows as I had
always seen them--afraid of a horseman, easy to turn with the
pony, and willing to be chased as far as necessary to the work.
Nobody told me anything different. One day we were making a
drive in an exceedingly broken country. I was bringing in a
small bunch I had discovered in a pocket of the hills, but was
excessively annoyed by one old cow that insisted on breaking
back. In the wisdom of further experience, I now conclude that
she probably had a calf in the brush. Finally she got away
entirely. After starting the bunch well ahead, I went after her.
Well, the cow and I ran nearly side by side for as much as half a
mile at top speed. She declined to be headed. Finally she fell
down and was so entirely winded that she could not get up.
"Now, old girl, I've got you!" said I, and set myself to urging
her to her feet.
The pony acted somewhat astonished, and suspicious of the job.
Therein he knew a lot more than I did. But I insisted, and, like
a good pony, he obeyed. I yelled at the cow, and slapped my bat,
and used my quirt. When she had quite recovered her wind, she
got slowly to her feet--and charged me in a most determined
manner.
Now, a bull, or a steer, is not difficult to dodge.
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