232 A SHOUT THAT KILLED AN OX 



loud. The strange thing about it was that, though 

 deep, it had a tremendous carrying power, so that 

 when he let himself go and talked to his man or boy 

 out of doors, or got into a dispute with his wife, his 

 neighbours, a quarter of a mile or further away, 

 would listen to his words, and on the next occasion 

 of meeting him would ask him how the great question 

 had been settled; had the turkey's nest been found? 

 was the pig going to be killed on Saturday next ? had 

 they got the garlic for the sausages ? and was he 

 convinced that his wife really wanted a new dress ? 

 — and so on and so forth. This would make Bias 

 very angry, and he would refuse to believe they had 

 heard him from their own houses; he would say that 

 some little spying sneak of a boy had been hiding 

 behind the wood pile listening, and had reported 

 what he had heard. 



One day Bias was ploughing, and one of his couple 

 of oxen refused to work properly; the beast kept 

 turning round, kicking at and getting entangled in 

 the traces, and Bias at length losing all patience let 

 his voice out to its full strength in a mad yell, and 

 the ox dropped down stone-dead in the furrow, to 

 his amazement and dismay. 



I dare say this will seem a tall story to some of 

 my uninformed readers — too tall to be within reach 

 of their believing capacity; nevertheless it is true, 

 and when I related it to a scientific friend who is 

 deep in physiology and pathology, he said that he 

 did not doubt it for a moment, but that the cause of 

 the bullock's sudden death was heart disease, and 



