“Because it’s ours. My father’s; I didn’t mean it was my own.”
“Can you give me some proof that it is yours?” said the lieutenant.
“Eh!” exclaimed Ram, staring.
“I say, show me that the cow is yours, and you shall have her.”
“Oh,” cried Ram, and he ran to the side, unfastened the rope used as a halter for the patient beast, ran right forward, and began to call, “Tally, Tally! Coosh-cow, coosh-cow!”
The effect was magical, the cow turned sharply round, stretched out her nose so as to make her windpipe straight, and uttered a low soft lowing, as she walked straight forward to where Ram stood, thrust her nose under his arm, and stood swinging her tail to and fro.
“Mr Raystoke!”
“Ay, ay, sir!” said Archy, going aft and saluting.
“It seems to be their cow; let them take it ashore.”
“Ay, ay, sir!”