MILLING WITH THE NIGHT HERD 



sixth sense, registered the thought in the mind of Blan- 

 cett. 



"You won't make it. Don't try," he remarks in a 

 low, even tone. 



The position was tense. To step back now would 

 invite a sudden onrush while he is not in a position to 

 make a getaway. There is little chance by jumping to 

 one side of eluding that spread of horns, which seem 

 even from where he stands to half encircle him. A 

 thought comes. He had always heard a bull or steer 

 did not attack an inanimate body and men had saved 

 themselves by lying prone and still. The experiment 

 is worth trying. The nearer the steer when a man is 

 safely prone, the less chance of the steer getting his 

 head low and of the man being horned. Slowly, with 

 even movements, with eye ever on that of the animal, 

 instead of holding the serape square out as a screen, 

 retaining one corner in his left hand, for he was a 

 southpaw, he worked his right out arm's length behind 

 him to the opposite diagonal corner. 



Snap! The serape slaps forward square between 

 the eyes of the longhorn who simultaneously shoots 

 forward like a bolt from a gun ; but the man is quicker 

 and has dropped flat on the ground, not a bit too flat 

 for the vicious side sweep, — one horn barking a four- 

 inch souvenir of the pleasant occasion from his right 

 shoulder. 



The steer hurdles the prostrate form. All is quiet; 

 even the spectators are still. There is the slightest 

 move of the head of the prone figure as he cocks an 

 eye to starboard to see the cause of the dead calm. But 

 it is not too slight for the steer. 



Whang! he again barely misses his antagonist's 

 head. The recipient of this moon-dance and partia- 

 lis 

 i 



