Jos and Faz had been flicking their whips for quite a while to show that they were ready. The father unfastened one cow after another from her stall and the whole procession began to move. Quite a stretch of road beyond the chapel had to be passed before the pasture-ground for the day could be reached. Russli had immediately come to Vinzi’s side and was firmly grasping his hand. He tried to hold Vinzi back as much as possible, while Faz and Jos were busy driving the cows along. This was difficult, because the luscious grass along the sides constantly tempted them to stray from the road.
“Leave me alone, Russli,” Vinzi said hurrying forward. “You see I must help your brothers to keep the cows in order.”
During a struggle Faz had with a cow who was trying to clean off a tender bush by the roadside he heard these words.
“Keep Russli out of mischief for us,” he called back to Vinzi. “You can’t possibly help us better than that. The little chap always tickles the cows with his rod and that makes them run from side to side. If they do that we can barely manage them. Russli is a mischievous little fellow, you’d better hold him tight.”
Faz at last got control of his obstinate cow and, driving her along, followed the others.
“Vinzi,” asked Russli, overjoyed at being able to have his new cousin’s company, “have you a knife?”
“Yes, of course, everybody needs one,” Vinzi replied.
“Come on and I’ll show you a fine bush,” said Russli, “where the branches are thick below and very thin above; you know they are very strong, too. Won’t you cut me a few good willow sticks. Mine is broken and I can’t do it myself because I am not allowed to have a knife.”
“Why do you want the stick?” asked Vinzi. “I hope you don’t want it for beating the cows. You heard what Faz just told me about you.”
“Oh, I don’t beat them, but I like to tickle them a bit,” explained Russli. “That makes them jump and they get lively.”