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Show 115 Getting the herd out of town was a big enough job, as they poured, with bovine perversity into every open gate or broken fence along the way. The task was further complicated by an unweaned calf whose mother was purposely left in Kanosh. He was determined to get back to her and I was instructed not to let him. The horses and the dog seemed to know the mind and will of our sovereign, Papa, and it took us all three to keep the calf in the narrow way, because he used every trick known to the species to dodge us, with the horse rearing and plunging, leaping washes and sage-brush to head him off. He didn't give up and neither did we until he was exhausted, after which the poor little thing went along with his tongue hanging pitifully out and his ears drooping. Even at that, the cattle got ahead of the wagons, so Papa told me not to try and wait, but he described a hill up ahead, a place where the canyon widened out into a flat hillside and told me when I came to it to round up the cattle, let them graze, and wait for the wagons to catch up for noon. The dog elected to stay with the wagons. Soon we were in wilderness. From the long intervals of utter silence, except for the cattle, an occasional cow bawling for her calf, I became certain that the wagons had slipped off the dugway and were piled up in a tangle of horses and harness at the bottom of the canyon. Just about the time I despaired of ever seeing them again there would be a terrible commotion, brakes against wheels, the dog barking, and Papa swearing. There would be silence again, and this time I knew they would be goners. |