"Must be this man belongs to the National Trotting-Cow
Association," said Jack, as he crawled under the barbed-wire
fence into the yard. "That red beast over there in the corner
ought to be able to trot a mile in less than three minutes."

He cautiously went up to a spotted cow which seemed to be
rather tamer than the rest, holding out one hand, and saying,
"So, bossy," in oily tones, as if he thought she was the finest
cow he had ever seen. When he was almost to her she looked at him
quickly, kicked her nearest hind-foot at him savagely, and walked
off, switching her tail, and shaking her head so that Ollie was
afraid it would come off and be lost.

"Can't fool that cow, can I?" said Jack, as he turned to
another. But he had no better luck this time, and after trying
three or four more he paused and said:

"These must be the same kind of cows Horace Greeley found
down in Texas before the war. When he came back he said the way
they milked down there was to throw a cow on her back, have a
nigger hold each leg, and extract the milk with a clothes-pin."

But at last he found a brindled animal in the corner which
allowed him to sit down and begin. He was getting on well when,
without the least warning, the cow kicked, and sent the pail
spinning across the yard, while Jack went over backwards, and his
new hat fell off. There was one calf in the yard which had been
complaining ever since we came, because it had not yet had its
supper. The pail stopped rolling right side up, and this calf ran