ll soon have a team," I declared with all the confidence in the world,
"only we can't go very far in a day with a raw team, especially in this
hot weather."

But one cow would not go at all! We could neither lead her nor drive
her. Put her in the yoke, and she would stand stock still, just like a
stubborn mule. Hitch the yoke by a strong rope behind the wagon with a
horse team to pull, and she would brace her feet and actually slide
along, but would not lift a foot. I never saw such a brute before, and
hope I never shall again. I have broken wild, fighting, kicking steers
to the yoke and enjoyed the sport, but from a sullen, tame cow, deliver
me!

"Won't you take her back and give me another?" I asked the seller.

"Yes, I will give you that red cow,"--one I had rejected as unfit,--"but
not one of the others."

"What is this cow worth to you?"

"Thirty dollars."

So I dropped ten dollars, having paid forty for the first cow. Besides,
I had lost the better part of a day and experienced a good deal of
vexation. If I could only have had Twist back again!

The fact gradually became apparent that the loss of that fine ox was
almost irreparable. I could not get track of an ox anywhere, nor even of
a steer large enough to mate the Dave ox. Besides, Dave always was a
fool. Twist would watch my every motion, and mind by the wave of the
hand, but Dave never minded anything except to shirk hard work. Twist
seemed to love his work and would go freely all day. It was brought home
to me more forcibly than ever that in the loss of the Twist ox I had
almost lost the whole team.

When I drove out from Lexington behind a hired horse team that day, with
the Dave ox tagging on behind and sometimes pulling on his halter, and
with an unbroken cow in leading, it may easily be guessed that the pride
of anticipated success died out, and deep discouragement seized upon me.
I had two yokes, one a heavy ox yoke, the other a light cow's yoke; but
the cow, I thought, could not be worked alongside the ox in the ox yoke,
nor the ox with the cow in the cow yoke. I was without a team, but with
a double encumbrance.

Yes, the ox has passed, for in all Nebraska I was unable to find even
one yoke.

I trudged along, sometimes behind the led cattle, wondering in my mind
whether or not I had been foolish to undertake this expedition to
perpetuate the memory of the old Oregon Trail. Had I not been rebuffed
at the first by a number of business men w