conclude that one
or another of the cut-herds would suit her better than this mill of
turmoil. She would start confidently out, head and tail up, find
herself chased back, get stubborn on the question, and lead her pursuer
a long, hard run before she would return to her companions. Once in a
while one would even have to be roped and dragged back. For know,
before something happens to you, that you can chase a cow safely only
until she gets hot and winded. Then she stands her ground and gets
emphatically "on the peck."

I remember very well when I first discovered this. It was after I had
had considerable cow work, too. 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. He lowers his
head, shuts his eyes, and comes in on one straight rush. But a cow
looks to see what she is doing; her eyes are open every minute, and it
overjoys her to take a side hook at you even when you succeed in
eluding her direct charge.

The pony I was riding did his best, but even then could not avoid a
sharp prod that would have ripped him up had not my leather bastos
intervened. Then we retired to a distance in order to plan further;
but we did not succeed in inducing that cow to revise her ideas, so at
last we left her. When, in some chagrin, I mentioned to th