THE RED COW 



boy reported that the farrier was out, but that he 

 would come as soon as he could. While waiting we 

 talked about all the sick cows we had ever known, 

 and as most of them had died I found the conversa- 

 tion somewhat depressing. I can honestly say of 

 Fenceviewer I., "With all thy faults I love thee still." 

 She is the progenitor of the whole flock, and her 

 strain is the kind I need. She can rustle for herself 

 except when she is chained up, and if she had to do 

 it she could get through the winter by licking the 

 moss off the trees. She is no stall-fed exotic, but a 

 hardy annual who in spite of her good breeding has 

 a touch of the qualities that made the pioneer cows 

 endure hardships and give rich milk. I could ill 

 afford to lose her from either a financial or scientific 

 point of view. We whiled away several hours with 

 gloomy forebodings, occasionally taking the lantern 

 to go to the stable and look her over. But there 

 was nothing we could do for her, and she grunted 

 rhythmically every time she breathed, sometimes 

 standing up and sometimes lying down. About 

 twelve o'clock we decided that the farrier was not 

 coming, and the neighbour went home and I went to 

 bed. Just as I got sound asleep the household was 

 aroused by shrill whistling, and I got up to find that 



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