The Cow 317 



chewing the cud contentedly, and flicking 

 away chance flies with lazy flourishes of the 

 tail tip. There was a path from the creelc 

 to almost every tree. Cattle, indeed, are as 

 great path-makers as hogs or ants. They 

 walk in single file, one treading almost upon 

 the heels of the other. In every herd, how- 

 ever small, there is a queen. Commonly it 

 is the bell cow. In the old field there was 

 of course disputed supremacy. Three bell 

 cows sometimes chewed the cud of peace in 

 the shade of a single tree. More commonly 

 there was a bell cow to a tree, monarch of 

 all she surveyed, within its circle of shadow. 

 When she rose up, the rest obediently fol- 

 lowed her example ; when she browsed, they 

 also browsed ; when she turned her head, 

 nose upward, sniffed, lowed, and began the 

 march home, her companions followed in her 

 footsteps. Outlanders also laid a course for 

 their own proper pens. 



Sometimes, when grazing was lush and 

 extra plenty, the home-going began about 

 four o'clock. Oftener sundown was the 

 starting hour. For a while the going was 

 slow — slow enough to nip grass and swing- 

 ing bushes in passing. But as dusk thickened, 

 the leader was apt to break into a furious 

 running, which set her bell wildly jangling, 

 and brought the herd after her at speed, low- 



