nd to facilitate the driving,
a few bullocks are usually separated from the others and kept moving in
the van as a sort of pace-setter.

It is surprising how readily the drove falls into the spirit of this
strolling march, some battle-scarred old bull leading, and the others
following him in the dust.

It is said that neither fools, women, nor children can drive cattle. The
explanation of this adage is not here assumed, nor its community of
relation. I know the handling of these great droves is considered
business for an expert. The cattle owner would no sooner trust a herd to
men picked up by the roadway than the trainmaster would trust the
limited express to a stranger in the railroad station.

If the cattle are hot they must be rested, in water if possible; if
there is no water, then under some shade. Throw down the fence and turn
them into the stranger's field. If the stranger is a person of good
sense, he will be glad to assist your necessity. If not, he must yield
to it.

These are laws of the Hills, always remembered as the lawyer remembers
the "statute of frauds." It is impossible to go too slow. Watch the
mouth of the bullock. He is in no danger until his tongue lolls out at
the corner like a dog's. Then rest him. Let no man go through your
drove. He must stop until it passes him. If he refuses, he must be
persuaded. If one bullock runs back, let him alone; he will follow. But
if two, turn them at once with a swift dash of the cattle-horse. Never
run a steer. If the cattle are frightened, sing to them, and ride
through the drove. Old-fashioned, swinging, Methodist hymns are best.
Make it loud. The cattle are not particular about the tune.

I have heard the profane Ump singing Old Hundred and riding the Bay
Eagle up and down in a bunch of frightened cattle, and it was a piece of
comedy for the gods. I have heard Jud, with no more tune than a tom-tom,
bellowing the doxology to a great audience of Polled-Angus muleys on the
verge of a stampede. And I have sung myself, many a time, like a circuit
rider with a crowded mourner's bench.

One thing more: know every bullock in your drove. Get his identity in
your mind as you get the features of an acquaintance, so that you would
recognise him instantly if you met him coming up at the end of the
earth. A driver in the Hills would not be worth his salt who did not
know every head of his cattle. Suppose his herd breaks into a field
where there are others of the same