THE CART BEFORE THE STEER.
“‘Landry!’ shouted Squire Bateman, emerging from the big red door of the barn with a pitchfork in his hand.
“Landry, an excitable little Frenchman, appeared suddenly around the woodhouse, as if he had just been waiting to be called.
“‘Landry,’ said the squire, ‘you’re goin’ in to Kentville this mornin’ for that feed, ain’t you?’
“‘Yes, sare,’ responded Landry.
“The farmer considered for a moment, chewing thoughtfully on a head of wheat. Then he continued, ‘You’d better take the black-an’-white steer along, and leave him at Murphy’s as you pass. He’s fat now as he’ll ever be, an’ it’s jest a waste o’ feed to keep on stuffin’ the critter.’
“‘’Ow’ll I take him, sare?’ queried Landry.
“‘Oh,’ replied the squire rather impatiently, turning back into the barn, ‘hitch him to the back o’ the cart. He’ll lead all right!’
“On this point Landry seemed doubtful. He scratched his head anxiously for a moment, and then darted off in his nervous way, so unlike the deliberateness of hired men in general, to carry out his employer’s orders.
“The black-and-white steer was a raw-boned beast, about three years old, with no disposition to take on fat. There was a wild, roving expression in his eye which made Landry, who knew cattle well, and appreciated the differences in their dispositions, very doubtful as to his docility when being led to market. In Squire Bateman’s eyes, however, a steer was a steer; and if one could be led so could another. Squire Bateman had a constitutional hatred of exceptions.
“When Landry was ready to start he hitched the steer to the cart-tail with a strong halter, and set out with misgivings. But the steer proved docility itself. It trotted along in indolent good humor, holding its head high, and sniffing the fresh, meadow-scented air with delight. By the time they reached the top of Barnes’s Hill, a long descent about two miles this side of Kentville, Landry had made up his mind that he had done the animal an injustice. But just at this stage in the journey something took place, as things will so long as Fate remains the whimsical creature she is.
“It chanced that a party of wheelmen from Halifax, on a tour through the Cornwallis valley and the Evangeline regions, arrived at the top of the hill when Landry and his charge were about half-way down. The bicyclists were riding in a long line, single file. Their leader knew the country, and he knew that Barnes’s Hill was smooth and safe for ‘coasting.’ Some of the riders, the leader among them, were on the old-fashioned high wheels, while others rode the less conspicuous ‘Safeties,’ then a new thing. Each man, as he dipped over the edge of the slope, flung his legs over the handles and luxuriously ‘let her go.’ They saw the team ahead, but there was abundance of room for safe passing.
“Now, Squire Bateman’s black-and-white steer had been brought up behind the Gaspereau hills, where the wheelman delights not to wander. A bicycle, therefore, was in his eyes a novel and terrifying sight. As the whirling and gleaming apparition flashed past he snorted fiercely, and sprang aside with a violence that almost upset the cart. Landry sprang to his feet, grinding his teeth with excitement and wrath, and the next wheelman slipped radiantly by. This was too much for the black-and-white steer, and on the third wheel he made a desperate but ineffectual charge.
“Ineffectual did I say? Well, only so far as that wheel was concerned; but he flung himself so far across the way that the next rider could not avoid the obstacle. The tall wheel struck the animal amidships, so to speak; and the rider went right on and landed in a dismal heap. The other riders darted aside up the bank into the fence, stopping themselves gracefully or ungracefully, but at any cost avoiding the now quite demented beast that was blocking their way.
“The animal made a frantic dash at the unfortunate wheelman in the gutter, who had picked himself up with difficulty, and was feeling for broken bones. He was beyond the steer’s reach, but discreetly hobbled to the fence, and placed that welcome barrier between him and the foe. The fury of the animal’s charge, however, had swung the cart right across the road, and now the frightened horse began to plunge and rear. Landry held him in partial control; and the next instant the steer made a second mad rush, this time aiming at the bicycle which had struck him, and which now lay in the gutter. He reached the offending wheel, but at the same time he upset the cart. Out went Landry like a rubber ball; and the horse, kicking himself free of the traces, set out at a highly creditable pace for Kentville.
“The rage of the little Frenchman, as he picked himself up, was Homeric. He abused the bellowing and bounding brute with an eloquence which, had it been expressed in English, would have made the wheelmen on the other side of the fence depart in horror. Then he seized a fence stake and rushed into close quarters, resolved to enforce his authority.
“At the moment of Landry’s attack, the steer had his horns very much engaged in the wheel of the bicycle. As the fence stake came down with impressive emphasis across his haunches, he tossed the machine in air, and charged on his assailant with great nimbleness and ferocity. Landry just escaped by springing over the body of the cart; and at this juncture he congratulated himself that he had hitched the animal by so strong a halter.
“By this time the bicyclists had reunited their forces a little below. Their leader, with the dismounted wheelman, now came to rescue the suffering wheel. But there was no such thing as getting near it. The steer stood guard over his prize with an air that forbade any interference.
“‘It isn’t much good now, anyway,’ grumbled the victim. ‘I guess I’ll have to hobble on as far as Kentville, and borrow or hire another wheel there. This ain’t worth mending now.’
“‘Oh, nonsense!’ replied the leader; ‘a few dollars will put it all right. We’ll leave it at Kentville to be sent back to Halifax by the D. A. R., and McInerney’ll fix it so you’d never know it had been broken!’
“‘Well,’ rejoined the discomfited one, ‘I don’t see how we’re going to get hold of it, anyway.’
“To this sentiment the steer bellowed his adherence. The leader of the wheelmen, however, glancing around at the encouraging countenances of his party, drew a small revolver from his hip pocket.
“‘Don’t you think,’ he said, addressing Landry, ‘we ought to shoot this beast? He is blocking the highway, and he is a menace to all passers-by.’
“The astute Landry meditated for a moment.
“‘What might be your name, sare?’ he inquired.
“‘My name’s Vroot—Walter Vroot of Halifax,’ replied the wheelman.
“‘Eef you shoot ze steer, sare, Squire Bateman he make you pay for ’eem, sure,’ said Landry.
“At this there arose a chorus of indignation led by the discomfited one. But Mr. Vroot turned on his heel, thrusting his revolver back into his pocket.
“‘Perhaps,’ said he to Landry, ‘you’ll be so good as to bring the bicycle into Kentville with you when you come.’
“‘Sare,’ said Landry, ‘’ow is dat posseeble? I go in to Kentville right now to look after my ’orse.’
“In a few minutes the wheelmen had vanished in a slender and gleaming line, Landry and the wheelless one (whose name, by the way, was Smith) were tramping dejectedly townward, and the steer was left in absolute possession of the cart, the wheel, and a portion of the Queen’s highway.
“In a short time the situation might have become monotonous for the animal, as the road was dry and dusty, and the rich, short grass of the roadside beyond his reach. But just as he had got tired of demolishing the bicycle, there came a diversion. A light carriage containing a lady and gentleman appeared over the crest of the hill. The occupants of the carriage were surprised and vexed at the obstacle before them.
“‘I think it’s perfectly outrageous,’ said the lady, ‘the way these country people leave their vehicles right in the middle of the road.’
“‘There seems to have been some accident,’ remarked the man soothingly.
“‘What business had they going away and leaving things that way?’ retorted the lady sharply. ‘You’ll have to get out and remove that animal before we try to pass.’
“By this time the horse, a mild livery-stable creature, was almost within reach of the angry steer, whose tail twitched ominously. The next instant, with a deep, grunting bellow, he charged at the horse, who reared and backed just in time to save himself. The carriage came within an ace of upsetting, and the lady shrieked hysterically. The man sprang out, and seized the horse by the head. The lady flung herself out desperately over the back.
“‘Don’t be alarmed, my dear!’ said the man. ‘The animal is securely fastened to the cart, and seems to have been placed there to guard the way. They seem to have very strange customs in Nova Scotia!’
“‘What shall we do?’ queried the lady tearfully, gazing at the pawing and roaring steer.
“‘Why, there’s nothing to do but take down a piece of the fence and drive around. There’s no occasion for alarm!’ replied the man.
“He backed the horse a little way, and then tied him to the fence while he made an opening. Then he made another opening at a safe distance below the obstacle, led the horse and carriage through, put the lady back into the seat, and continued his journey philosophically. In the course of the next hour a number of other travellers approached, and taking in the situation, followed the new route through the fields. The steer invariably bellowed, and plunged and lashed himself into mad rage in trying to get at them; but Squire Bateman’s halter and rope did their duty, and all his efforts proved futile.
“But meanwhile the most astounding reports were flying about Kentville. Landry had secured the horse, and related the exact truth of the whole affair; but the various romantic and exciting embellishments of wayfarers found most favor in the eventless country town. A little squad of men with guns set forth to quell the nuisance; and hard on their heels followed Landry, bent on saving the property of his employer.
“When the party drew near, and realized how securely their antagonist was tethered, they were in no haste to complete their errand. The brute’s rage was so blind and fierce that they amused themselves for a little with the sport of tantalizing him. They would approach almost within his reach, and then dart back to a safer-looking distance; and presently the animal was a mass of sweat and froth, churned with red dust of the highway. At last, just as one of the men raised his rifle with the intention of ending the play, the animal threw himself in one of his maddest charges.
“Landry had just come up. The instant the steer fell he rushed forward, threw his coat over its head, and knotted the arms under its jaws. Breathless and bewildered, the panting brute ceased its struggles and lay quite still. In a moment or two it was lifted to its feet, the halter was unhitched from the cart-tail, and Landry set out for Kentville with the blindfolded steer following as gently as a lamb.”
CHAPTER IV.
MORE OF CAMP DE SQUATOOK.
On the following morning we breakfasted in a very leisurely fashion, with a delightful sense of having all day before us. We spent the day in casting our flies at the outlet, and our success was a continual repetition of that of the previous night. Only Stranion grew tired. He could not hook as many fish as the rest of us; wherefore he grew disgusted, and chose to sit on the bank deriding us. But as long as the fish were feeding we heeded him not. Our heaviest trout that day just cleared two pounds and a half.
In the evening we took tea early. Before settling down we made a little voyage of exploration to the top of a neighboring hill, and watched the moon rise over the vast and empty wilderness. Returning to the camp, we doffed our scanty garments, ran down the beach, and dashed out into the gleaming lake-waters. It was such a swim as Stranion had told us of. After this we felt royally luxurious. We lolled upon our blankets with a lordly air, and the soughing of the pines was all about us for music. Then, in a peremptory tone, Sam cried, “Stranion!”—“Sir, to you!” was Stranion’s polite response.
“Stranion,” continued Sam, “to you it falls to unfold to this appreciative audience the resources of your experience or your imagination. I would recommend, now, a judicious combination of the two.”
Thus irresistibly adjured, Stranion began:—
“This is the story of—