The Cow and the Cowboy
ByE. M. Avilla
There was three of us boys, a cow and a dog; it seems that the two animals had the most fun out of it. One Hallowe'en night three of us cow--punchers were out to a party, and stayed there till about midnight. It was a fine bright moonlight night, and on our way home we were looking for something to have some fun with, but till within a mile of town we found nothing to get into mischief. Right then, though, we saw what looked promising. There was a farmhouse on one side of the road and a barn on the other side. A dump--cart stood in front of the barn, and we were going to get our ropes on it and pull the cart down the hill to town and leave it somewhere along Main Street. While we were figuring how to get it going down the grade, one of the boys says: "Why not catch one of the cows inside of the corral there, and hitch her to the cart?" We would get the outfit where we wanted it, and at the same time see the fun when the cow started going down that grade. What we didn't know was that the cow we picked on had belonged to a widow woman in town and had only been out of this place about a week. We got her--the cow--out close to the cart, and throwing the harness on her, all but the collar which we left out as it wouldn't fit and hooked the shafts so that the pull would be just by the back. She paid no attention to what we were doing to her--must have thought that was some new way of milking. We had her all ready to turn loose when one of the boys says that he would bet a dollar that none of us was game to ride in that cart; so I, being the biggest fool in the bunch, took him up on the bet and got in behind the old cow. The road from that place was one straight down grade right into town and quite steep. The boys led the cow a few steps, soon as the cow heard the cart coming behind her, she got scared and started down that hill on a run. I had no idea an old cow could run so fast; I was going to jump out, but I didn't want the boys to have the laugh on me, and then again I thought after we got down on the level the cow would stop. And all I had to do was to unhook her from the cart; then she would go back and the cart would be left somewhere in the street. But this cow knew just where she was going, for at the third house she turned right in an open gate--turned in there so fast that I come near going over the side head first. That place where she turned in happened to be her old home, so it was no wonder that she was in a hurry to get there. This widow woman had a savage bulldog that she always kept chained up, as he would bite anyone that went near him. As we turned in the gate, the dog came out of his house. He got out to the far end of his chain but the cow didn't go around him but right over him. Somehow the chain got caught on the cart and it snapped in two. But the cow never stopped till she ran into an open door of a shed, which was open only about two feet. The cow made it through all right, but the cart stayed outside.
Till then I didn't know that the dog was loose, but I found out mighty quick, for as I stepped out on the ground he took a whole mouthful of hair off my chaps. While he was trying to spit out the hair he had in his mouth I thought it good time to get up somewhere that he couldn't take a piece of one of my legs; it was an even chance either to climb back into the cart or up a tree and I chose the tree. I don't know what kind of a tree it was, but I do know it was a very handy one. He made another grab at me as I was climbing up the tree but did no damage, and I found a place where I could rest over a limb. It got very uncomfortable after a while however, and I called that dog every name I could think of, but he paid no attention to any of them, so I suppose I never called his right name. In fact I called him some names that I won't repeat, but all he did was walk around the tree with his eyes on me all the time. I was getting tired staying up there in that position, but I couldn't see any way of getting down without getting chewed up. I expected the other fellows would be around there soon as they had my horse with them, but they never showed up that night--I never knew till next day that after seeing me going into that yard with cow and cart, they had hiked for home, thinking there would be trouble. I took my chaps off and threw them as far as I could to see if the dog would go after them and give me a chance to get down and into the yard across the picket fence. I was in hopes that if I did get in there, he wouldn't find any hole to get on my side. When I threw the chaps, he did run for them--I guess he thought I was in them, the way he grabbed them. I started to slide down on the opposite side of the tree from him but he saw me before I got to the fence. I managed to get over before he got me, however. I wanted to get out on the street, next, but he kept right on with me but on the other side of the fence. So I got over into the next yard; then he thought he had gone far enough and I got up on the fence and waited till he was gone before I would get down. I was paying so much attention to the dog that I hadn't noticed a man standing right behind me and I didn't know he was there till I heard him say: "Hands up, or I'll bore you full of holes." I saw he was the town watchman--I knew him, but he didn't know me. I reached for the clouds all right, for I saw by his looks that he meant business--anyway, the gun did. I told him that one of our cows had got into Mrs. Lambert's yard, and after getting in there the dog had took after me and that was the reason I was getting over the fences, but he didn't believe the story at all. He said that there had been some chickens stolen in that neighborhood, and that he thought I was one of the thieves and would lock me up till morning to find out how many chickens I had stolen. He told me to walk ahead of him, and all the time he had his gun poked into my back. He started right back toward where the dog was, and I told him that as soon as we passed the open gate that the dog would take a chunk of one of us, but he didn't believe it, and he kept right on. I had a queer feeling up and down my back when we were getting close to the gate. Just as we was passing, the dog came. I was expecting that, but the old fellow wasn't and when he saw him so close, he let out a yell and dropped the gun and started to run--but didn't go far
before the dog had him by the seat of the breeches, he trying to go one way, and the dog pulling the other. The dog won the tug--of--war and the old fellow went down. That left the old man loose though, and he lost no time in getting up on the fence, and when he saw that he was safe he started to holler for Mrs. Lambert, the owner of the dog, to come and tie him up or he'd shoot him. I had to laugh, for I knew that he had dropped his gun. I wanted to help him, but I sure was afraid that the dog might mistake my good intentions and start me up another tree. The old constable made such fuss that Mrs. Lambert opened a window and demanded to know what all the racket was about. He told her that her dog had him up the fence, and she began to call the dog. Then I heard his name for the first time--she called him Samson. Funny I never thought of that name, for he sure changed his disposition when he heard that name. Soon as I saw that the old man was safe, I started for home. I found my horse tied by the post office and I sure lost no time getting out of town that morning. There was a big holler about that cow, for it seems that when they found her, she had part of the harness on her back. But we cow-punchers didn't know anything about it--not a thing!