he learned to go at the word in
quest of our old yellow cow, that pastured at will on the unfenced
prairie.

Once he had learned his business, he became very fond of it and nothing
pleased him more than an order to go and fetch the cow. Away he would
dash, barking with pleasure and leaping high in the air that he might
better scan the plain for his victim. In a short time he would return
driving her at full gallop before him, and gave her no peace until,
puffing and blowing, she was safely driven into the farthest corner of
her stable.

Less energy on his part would have been more satisfactory, but we bore
with him until he grew so fond of this semi-daily hunt that he began to
bring 'old Dunne' without being told. And at length not once or twice
but a dozen times a day this energetic cowherd would sally forth on his
own responsibility and drive the cow home to the stable.

At last things came to such a pass that whenever he felt like taking a
little exercise, or had a few minutes of spare time, or even happened to
think of it, Bingo would sally forth at racing speed over the plain
and a few minutes later return, driving the unhappy yellow cow at full
gallop before him.

At first this did not seem very bad, as it kept the cow from straying
too far; but soon it was seen that it hindered her feeding. She became
thin and gave less milk; it seemed to weigh on her mind too, as she
was always watching nervously for that hateful dog, and in the mornings
would hang around the stable as though afraid to venture off and subject
herself at once to an onset.

This was going too far. All attempts to make Bingo more moderate in his
pleasure were failures, so he was compelled to give it up altogether.
After this, though he dared not bring her home, he continued to show his
interest by lying at her stable door while she was being milked.

As the summer came on the mosquitoes became a dreadful plague, and the
consequent vicious switching of Dunne's tail at milking-time was even
more annoying than the mosquitoes.

Fred, the brother who did the milking, was of an inventive as well as
an impatient turn of mind, and he devised a simple plan to stop the
switching. He fastened a brick to the cow's tail, then set blithely
about his work assured of unusual comfort while the rest of us looked on
in doubt.

Suddenly through the mist of mosquitoes came a dull whack and an
outburst of 'language.' The cow went on placidly chewing till Fred