e done? Three great
stupid, browsing, contented cows _versus_ one lone, lorn woman. For
about one minute Keturah would not have wagered her fortune on the
woman. But it is not her custom to "say die," and after some reflection
she ventured on a manful command.

"Go away! Go! go!" The stentorian remark caused a result for which she
was, to say the least, unprepared. The creatures coolly turned about and
walked directly up to her. To be sure. Why not? Is it not a part of our
outrageous Yankee nomenclature to teach cows to come to you when you
tell them to go away? How Keturah, country born and bred, could have
even momentarily forgotten so clear and simple a principle of philology,
remains a mystery to this day. A little reflection convinced her of the
only logical way of ridding herself of her guests. Accordingly, she
walked a little way behind them and tried again.

"Come here, sir! Come, good fellow! Wh-e-e! come here!"

Three great wooden heads lifted themselves slowly, and three pairs of
soft, sleepy eyes looked at her, and the beasts returned to their clover
and stood stock-still.

What was to be done? You could go behind and push them. Or you could go
in front and pull them by the horns.

Neither of these methods exactly striking Keturah's fancy, she took up a
little chip and threw at them; also a piece of coal and a handful of
pebbles. These gigantic efforts proving to be fruitless, she sat down on
the grass and looked at them. The heartless creatures resisted even that
appeal.

At this crisis of her woes one of Keturah's many brilliant thoughts came
to her relief. She hastened upon the wings of the wind to her infallible
resort, the wood-shed, and filled her arms up to the chin with pine
knots. Thus equipped, she started afresh to the conflict. It is recorded
that out of twenty of those sticks, thrown with savage and direful
intent, only one hit. It is, however, recorded that the enemy dispersed,
after being valiantly pursued around the house, out of the front gate
(where one stuck, and got through with the greatest difficulty), and for
a quarter of a mile down the street. In the course of the rout Keturah
tripped on her dress only six times, and fell flat but four. One
pleasing little incident gave delightful variety to the scene. A
particularly frisky and clover-loving white cow, whose heart yearned
after the apples of Sodom, turned about in the road without any warning
whatever and showed fight. Keturah