n the bank she sat down and had lunch, holding
her feet in the water while she ate. Being done she sat a while
longer, and when the sun had dried her feet she put on the shoes again,
lacing them carefully with particular regard to the ailing instep.
Then she folded the slicker.

As she straightened up and turned to go, she beheld a Texas steer of
the longhorn variety only a short distance away. He had been grazing
toward her, and as she arose he threw up his head. At sight of him--he
seemed to be all horns--she turned and made straightway for the other
side of the stream. She splashed through it as fast as she could go;
and being back where she came from, she turned upstream and ran. She
kept on till she came to a particularly wide piece of marsh grass.
Here, with a good bog between herself and the appalling pair of horns,
she came to a stop. Her shoes were now heavy with mud and water.

Janet can hardly be called a coward for acting as she did. A Texas
longhorn of the old school was enough to move anybody,--better
calculated to do so than either the elk or deer.

Consider the stag raising his antlers in the forest aisle. Held to the
spot by this display of headgear you contemplate it in all its
branches,--main-beam, brow-tine, bes-tine, royal and surroyal,--they
are all beautifully named. To run is only second thought. No
particular horn seems aimed at you. Between so many there may be room
for escape.

But think of the Texas steer! To right and left of him is one long
tapering tine. Each of them, naked as a tusk, has a peculiar twist
which suggests that it is perfectly scientific. Immediately you are
impressed with the idea of running.

He is a pitchfork on four legs. And so is his wife. With other beasts
of horn and antler, it is only the male who is thus favored; he has
them to fight out his differences over the ladies; and also, no doubt,
to make a grand impression. But Mrs. Longhorn has them as well as he
and is quite able to take care of herself. And so, meeting either of
them in their native state, you are inclined to regard the horizon as
one vast bull-ring. Janet was not at all cowardly when she arose and
went.

Having reached a safer place, she turned her attention to the stream
again; and as she was now confronted by the bog, she had to find a
crossing somewhere else. Naturally she did not turn her steps
downstream again.

The steer had grown small in the distance by the time she