eers, and other tame animals. "And I bet you he has 'em all
chewing the rag inside of twenty-four hours," said my companion.

That night Steve made ample amend for his former mirth. Indeed, he
praised my fleetness and promptness of action so highly that I was
seized by an access of modesty as unexpected as it was disorganising.

The next day Steve stood on the roof of the shed at the end of Billy
Buck's corral. Suddenly he straightened up and waved his hat. "Deer
and bull fight!" he called. "Come a-running everybody!" We dropped
our labours and sprinted for the corral, there to sit upon the shed and
watch the combat. Steve didn't know what began the trouble, but when I
got there the young bull was facing the deer, his head down, blowing
the dust in twin clouds before him, hooking the dirt over his back in
regular righting bull fashion, and anon saying, "Bh-ur-ur-ooor!" in an
adolescent basso-profundo, most ridiculously broken by streaks of
soprano. When these shrill notes occurred the little bull rolled his
eyes around, as much as to say "Who did that?" and we, swinging our
legs on the shed roof, laughed gleefully and encouraged him to sail in.

His opponent watched this performance with a carriage of the head
which, for superciliousness, I never have seen equaled in man, woman,
or beast. His war-cry was a tinny bleat: the cry of a soul bursting
with sardonic merriment. It was like the Falstaffian laughter of the
duck, without its ring of honesty.

The bull, having gone through the preliminaries of his code, cocked his
tail straight in the air and charged. The buck waited until he was
within three feet; then he shot sideways, and shot back again, his
antlers beating with a drum-stick sound on the bull's ribs. "Baw-aw!"
said the bull. Probably that hurt. Again bull faced buck. This time
the bovine eye wore a look of troubled wonderment, while one could mark
an evil grin beneath the twitching nose of his antagonist; and his
bleat had changed to a tone which recalled the pointing finger and
unwritable "H'nh-ha!" that greets misfortune in childhood. "I told you
so!" it said. The bull, however, is an animal not easily discouraged.
Once more he lowered his foolish head and braved forth like a
locomotive.

But it would take too long to tell all the things Billy Buck did to
that bull. He simply walked all over him and jabbed and raked and
poked. Away went the bull, his erstwhile proudly erect tail slewed