e usual variety and contrariety of disposition. They were
all right when well handled, and this Rolf could do better than Van,
for he was "raised on oxen," and Van's over voluble, sputtering,
Dutch-English seemed ill comprehended of the massive yoke beasts. The
simpler whip-waving and fewer orders of the Yankee were so obviously
successful that Van had resigned the whip of authority and Rolf was
driver.

Ordinarily, an ox driver walks on the hew (nigh or left) side, near
the head of his team, shouting "gee" (right), "haw" (left), "get up,"
"steady," or "whoa" (stop), accompanying the order with a waving of the
whip. Foolish drivers lash the oxen on the haw side when they wish them
to gee--and vice versa; but it is notorious that all good drivers do
little lashing. Spare the lash or spoil your team. So it was not long
before Rolf could guide them from the top of the load, as they travelled
from shook to shook in the field. This voice of command saved his life,
or at least his limb, one morning, for he made a misstep that tumbled
him down between the oxen and the wagon. At once the team started, but
his ringing "Whoa!" brought them to a dead stop, and saved him; whereas,
had it been Van's "Whoa!" it would have set them off at a run, for every
shout from him meant a whip lick to follow.

Thus Rolf won the respect, if not the love, of the huge beasts; more and
more they were his charge, and when, on that sad morning, in the last of
the barley, Van came in, "Ach, vot shall I do! Vot shall I do! Dot Buck
ox be nigh dead."

Alas! there he lay on the ground, his head sometimes raised, sometimes
stretched out flat, while the huge creature uttered short moans at
times.

Only four years before, Rolf had seen that same thing at Redding.
The rolling eye, the working of the belly muscles, the straining and
moaning. "It's colic; have you any ginger?"

"No, I hat only dot soft soap."

What soft soap had to do with ginger was not clear, and Rolf wondered if
it had some rare occult medical power that had escaped his mother.

"Do you know where there's any slippery elm?"

"Yah."

"Then bring a big boiling of the bark, while I get some peppermint."

The elm bark was boiled till it made a kettleful of brown slime. The
peppermint was dried above the stove till it could be powdered,
and mixed with the slippery slush. Some sulphur and some soda were
discovered and stirred in, on general principles, and they hastened to
the huge, h