"I might as well have tried to hold down a hurricane. As she rose so did I, and was on my feet twenty yards away before she could see where she was at. Just as she rushed from the bush and lunged after me, I saw a rope swing through the air, and the next thing that devil-possessed cow knew she was tied to a clump of thicket and left to meditate upon the evil of her ways."
"What did the men say to this?" I asked.
"Of course they made out that they were awfully surprised at the cow's antics, fearfully scared at my close call, and all that; but I saw them grinning and chuckling as if they were ready to burst as they rode off, and I felt dead sure they'd planned to have a double funeral, cow and calf both, if they hadn't found a tender-foot to unload them on.
"However, I never was one to give in that I was beaten by anything, first off, especially by a cow. Besides, that idea of having two nice pets had got a great hold on me. I made up my mind that if kindness could reclaim that erring cow she should be coddled like an infant. So next morning, bright and early, I started for the plum bush where she and the calf were tied, determined to make peace. Fortunately, two gentlemen, who had heard of the episode of the day before, rode over to see me that morning and joined me on my peace-making expedition. No sooner did the cow see me within thirty feet of her than she gave a fearful surge; the rope that she was tied with—worn thin by rubbing against the tree all night—gave way, and the cow made for me as though fifty devils had taken possession of her and were urging her on.
"I tell you I didn't stop to think about the power of kindness on the brute creation. I simply yelled, 'Murder,' and made for a sand gulch near by as though a band of wild Indians were on my trail. As I reached the gulch and dropped ten feet or so down the steep bank, digging my heels into the loose sand to stop myself, that acrobatic cow sailed straight over my head and lit about twenty yards below. At first I thought that she was dead, but no such luck. In a moment she got up, looking foolish and dazed, but very much alive, and began shaking her head and pawing fiercely, when the two gentlemen reached down and lifted me out, as much as to say, 'This is what I'll do when I get hold of you.' "
"Which she didn't, I hope," I put in.
"No, indeed; you can be precious sure that I took particular care that she didn't have another chance to get hold of me or to get back into the yard again. For an hour or so after she had hoisted herself out of the gulch she stood outside the fence that separated the yard from the field, shaking her head and pawing whenever she saw any of us at the doors or windows. At last, towards evening, she trotted off with a zigzag wabble down the bank towards the creek among the willows, and there she lay in ambush, you might say, so that for a week after we didn't dare to go down to make a garden or do anything else, for fear of having that cow descend like a wolf on the fold."
"And after that week?" I inquired.
"Well, finally she grew bolder, and ventured on the mesa near the railroad track, where she made war on the section hands, and I was warned that I must take her out of the field or they would shoot her. So to prevent her from demoralizing the entire neighborhood I had her killed and used her for beef. And tough eating she was," said my hostess, laughing; "but in any case she was better dead than alive, for there wasn't room for that cow and me in the same country."
"But you've been telling me about the cow. What about the heifer? I thought that you said that she was the cause—"