to bark.

Charlie pulled up in front of the house, and cooeed. A Chinaman put his
head out of the kitchen door, smiled blandly, said "'Ello!" and retired.
Gordon and Carew unsaddled the horses, put the hobbles on, and carried
all the gear into the house. By this time the Chinee had donned a dirty
calico jacket, and began in silence to put some knives, forks, and
pannikins on the table.

"Where's the old man?" roared Charlie, as if he thought the Chinee were
deaf.

"No more," he replied.

"Don't understand any English, eh?"

"No more," said he.

Just then a tramping of hoofs was heard; and looking out of the back
door they saw, about two hundred yards away, a large horse-yard, over
which hung a cloud of dust. Under the dust were signs of a struggle.

"He's in the yard," said Charlie. "Let's go up."

The cloud of dust shifted from place to place, and out of it came a
medley of weird oaths, the dull thudding of a waddy, and the heavy
breathing of men and animals in combat. Suddenly a lithe, sinewy black
boy, dressed in a short blue shirt, bounded like a squirrel to the top
of the fence and perched there; and through the mist they saw a very
tall old man, holding on like grim death to the end of a long rope, and
being hauled about the yard in great jumps by a half-grown steer. Behind
the steer another black boy dodged in and out, welting and prodding it
from time to time with a bamboo pole. Maddened by the blows, the steer
would dash forward and narrowly miss impaling the man on his horns;
then, taking advantage of his impetus, the old man would try to haul him
into a smaller yard. Every time he got to the gate the steer yanked him
out again by a series of backward springs that would have hauled along
a dromedary, and the struggle began all over again. The black boy on
the fence dropped down with the agility of a panther, took up the rope
behind the old man, and pulled for all he was worth.

"Hit him there, Billy! Whack him! Come on, you son of a cow! I'll pull
you in if I have to pull your head off. Come on, now!" And once more the
struggle raged furiously.

Charlie clambered up on the fence and sat there for a moment. The
old man saw him, but evinced no surprise. He just said, "Here, Mister
Who-ever-you-are, kitch hold of that rope." Their united forces were
too much for the steer, and he was hauled in by main strength under a
fusillade of bamboo on his stern. Once in the small yard, he abandoned
the struggl