THE SCAVENGERS 



It is a very squalid tragedy, — that of 

 the dying brutes and the scavenger birds. 

 Death by starvation is slow. The heavy- 

 headed, rack-boned cattle totter in the fruit- 

 less trails ; they stand for long, patient 

 intervals ; they lie down and do not rise- 

 There is fear in their eyes when they are 

 first stricken, but afterward only intol- 

 erable weariness. I suppose the dumb 

 creatures know nearly as much of death 

 as do their betters, who have only the more 

 imagination. Their even-breathing sub- 

 mission after the first agony is their trib- 

 ute to its inevitableness. It needs a nice 

 discrimination to say which of the basket- 

 ribbed cattle is likest to afford the next 

 meal, but the scavengers make few mis- 

 takes. One stoops to the quarry and the 

 flock follows. 



Cattle once down may be days in dying. 

 49 



^V^ 



y^^ 



