A calf bawled in pain and a cow, maddened by the appeal of her offspring, charged the group around the fire. The horses that stood there, holding calves, pricked their ears and watched her rush alertly but before it was necessary for any one of them to dodge, Slade's rep slipped his rope on her, jumped his horse off at an angle and brought her down.
Evans pointed to where Harris, seated on the big pinto, was working slowly through the center of the herd.
"He's gone in after another slick," Evans said. "Watch the paint-horse work."
Calico was moving after the animal Harris wanted, working easily and without a single sharp rush that would cause undue disturbance among the cows.
"A good cow horse is like a hound," Lanky observed. "Let him spot the critter you're wanting and nothing can shake him off."
Calico followed a serpentine course through the mass, crowded a three-year-old to the edge and cut him out. The animal attempted to dodge back among his fellows but the paint-horse turned as on a pivot and blocked him, then started him off in a straightaway run.
"There's a real rope-horse," Lanky said. "I've been noticing him work. Look!"
Calico had braced himself as the slick was roped, shoving his hind feet out ahead, squatting on his haunches and raising his forefeet almost clear of the ground.
"Cal broke him without shoes in front," Evans explained. "His feet got tender after he'd jerked a steer or two and he learned to sock his hind feet ahead and take the jar on them. He'll last two years longer that way. A horse that takes all the weight on his front feet in jerking heavy stuff soon gets stove up in the shoulders and has to be condemned. This Cal Harris has one whole bagful of knowing tricks."
He rode back to the work after this endorsement of her choice of a foreman.