[7] Mulley (cow without horns).

Beyond the cow stalls, now empty, were the stalls of the heifers, whose
names no one quite remembered as yet, and of the half-grown bulls, who
did not have any names at all.

When it came to the unloosing of the heifers and young bulls, the scene
grew livelier and livelier. They stretched their necks and rubbed
against their chains. They fell on their knees as soon as the unlooped
chains slipped from their necks, and as they sprang up again you could
hear their legs creak,--so stiff were they from standing in the stall
all winter. They ran plump against the side wall or up into the wrong
passageway. They dashed noisily against the door, two reaching it at
the same time and trying to rush through together but getting wedged by
their fat sides; while those who had been set free after them came
close on their heels, pushing, clashing their horns, butting and
bellowing,--until suddenly, the blockade being broken, out rushed the
whole throng.

Directly in the wake of the heifers and young bulls, to Lisbeth's
extreme surprise, followed Crookhorn, who, kicking up her heels, made a
swift dash out through the doorway.

Outside the cow house, too, all was life and stir. As the animals came
into the lane, they lifted their heads, sniffed the air from the
mountain side, and became eager and excited. Stiff-legged old cows, as
well as young calves, kicked up their hind legs and made frolicsome
leaps this way and that. They rushed playfully or angrily at each
other, clashing their horns, and giving a short bellow if worsted in
the tussle; then they dashed off to assail other members of the crowd.
Everything combined to form a hubbub of lowing and bellowing, horn
clashing and fence creaking, whacking of sticks and shouting of people;
while back and forth through all the confusion, with his horns high
above all the other horns, went the big bull, like a great heavy
snowplow, clearing the way. Of the whole herd, only one cow stood
undisturbed amid the wild uproar, calmly waiting and looking about.
That was the bell cow, whom, of course, none of the other cows dared to
disturb.

At last the head milkmaid came to the front and gave a call. The bell
cow threw up her head and with a loud, echoing bellow started to follow
her. Next came Brindle, still sniffing with anger after her many
encounters. She had got the best of all who were worth getting the best
of, and if she could not be the bell cow,