“Not she. You wouldn’t kick it over, would you, Tally, old cow?”
The cow waved her tail and whisked it about the man’s neck as the milking went on, to the delight of the men, who began to see biscuit and milk in prospect, while the two officers, who were none the less eager for a draught as a change from their miserable ordinary fare, veiled their expectations under a severe aspect of importance.
“Here you are,” said Jemmy, drawing back at last—while Dick seemed to be watching, in a state of agony, lest a kick should upset the soft white contents of the bucket—“More’n a gallon this time. How much are we to leave aboard?”
“All of it,” said Ram generously; “they deserve it for saving the cow. I say, you,” he continued, turning to Archy, “what do you say to her now?”
“Thank you,” replied Archy. “Here, Dick, take that bucket aft, and you, my lads, open the side there, and help them to get the cow overboard.”
“Thank ye, sir,” said Ram, smiling. “I say, Jemmy, she’d stand in the boat, wouldn’t she? Or would she put her feet through?”
“Let’s try,” was the laconic reply, and taking hold of the rope that had been used as a halter, the man stepped down into the boat, the cow, after a little coaxing, following, without putting her feet through, and showing great activity for so clumsy-looking a beast. Ram followed, and took one of the oars, settled down behind Jemmy, and the next minute, with the whole crew of the cutter standing grinning at the side, they began to row shoreward.
“How about the tide, Jemmy?” said Ram, when they had been rowing a few minutes, with the cow standing placidly in the boat.
“Too high, can’t do it,” said the man.
“Let’s row to the ledge then, and land there till the tide goes down.”