“Run for it! Spring on one side, and then make a bolt for the palings. I’ll help you over!” shouted Harry.
Hector, however, was too much frightened to follow the advice. Instead of facing the cow and watching what she was about to do, he turned round and ran across the slippery yard; before he got far, as might have been expected, down he fell. The next instant the cow would have been upon him, had not Paul, who had been following with the noose, succeeded dexterously in slipping it over her horns, when the windlass being turned rapidly round, she found herself brought up by a violent jerk. In vain she endeavoured to get free. The hide rope which had caught her was strong enough, as Sandy affirmed, “to hold a seventy-four,” and she was quickly, in spite of her bellowings and kickings, hauled up to “the bail;” while Hector, much frightened and excessively angry at his accident, picked himself up, and ran to the paling towards which Harry was beckoning him.
Sandy took care on this occasion not to be caught by the cow, and managed to take all the milk he required. Several others were brought up in the same fashion. Two who had been looking on, seeing that, whatever they might do, they would have to submit at last, walked up quietly and poked their heads into “the bail.”
“I should like to try and milk a cow,” exclaimed Reginald, who felt ambitious to imitate his cousins’ example and make himself useful.
“We have two more heifers to milk, and you shall try; but I don’t think you will succeed at first,” said Paul.
Reginald was determined to make an attempt. As the heifer showed no great inclination to submit to the process—being accompanied by her calf—she was caught by the horns, quickly dragged up to “the bail,” and leg-roped. Here she stood quietly enough while Paul stroked her, patted her back, and scratched her about the ears.
“Now, Reginald!” cried Paul, “get your stool and milk-pail, and try what you can do.” Neither Paul nor his cousin had observed that the calf—only a few weeks old—which had remained on the other side of the yard, had been stamping and pawing the ground, and exhibiting other signs of indignation at seeing its mother made captive.
Reginald, with sleeves tucked up and eager face, commenced trying to milk, but not a drop could he produce. Suddenly, uttering a loud cry, the calf, with head lowered, made a dash across the yard, sending Reginald flying in one direction, his milk-pail and stool in others, to the great amusement of the lookers-on. Reginald picked himself up, not being really hurt; and although he at first looked very frightened, he soon recovered his equanimity.
“Now, Reginald,” said Paul, “you will very likely succeed better this time. Try again.”
Reginald had plenty of spirit, and getting the pail and stool, once more sat himself down; and Paul showing him how to work, he managed to draw milk from the heifer.