"Go away from here altogether!" Little
Bill went away; so did Mother and Sal--until Dad had roped the cow, which
was n't before he twice lassoed the heifer--once by the fore-leg and once
round the flanks. The cow thereupon carried a panel of the yard away,
and got out and careered down the lane, bucking and bellowing till all the
cattle of the country gathered about her.
Dad's blood was up. He was hanging on to the rope, his heels ploughing
the dust, and the cow pulling him about as she liked. The sun was
setting; a beautiful sunset, too, and Mother and Sal were admiring it.
"Did y' never see th' blasted sun go--go down be----" Dad did n't finish.
He feet slid under a rail, causing him to relax his grip of the rope and
sprawl in the dust. But when he rose!
"Are y' going t' stand staring there all night?" They were beside the
rails in an instant, took the end of the rope which he passed to them,
put it once round the gallows-post, and pulled-pulled like sailors. Dad
hung on close to the cow's head, while Joe kicked her with his bare foot
and screwed her tail.
"Steady!" said Dad, "that'll about do." Then, turning to the women as he
mounted a rail and held the axe above the cow's head: "Hang on there
now!" They closed their eyes and sat back.
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