“AND A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM” 
It so happened in this case that instead of leading the brute 
he was driving him, when his mother came upon the scene and 
delivered her little son from a situation which she felt sure 
would have resulted in certain death had she not arrived upon 
the scene in the nick of time. 
In the cool of the afternoon one hot summer day she sent 
her little son down the lane to drive her milch cow home, lest 
she stray away with her neighbor’s cattle to another corral. 
On his way home he came upon a six-foot diamond-back. Being 
too young and inexperienced—not knowing what rattlesnakes 
were good for—he drew near for a good look, believing him 
to be about the cutest little fellow he had ever seen. In his 
childish way of thinking about things he concluded that he 
would drive him home and keep him to play with. He had 
observed his father working with the ox and, for one of his 
years, had gained a pretty good idea of how to make the 
creatures do his way. When dad wanted the ox to go forward 
he would tap him behind with the whip, and if he wanted him 
to turn left he would tap him upon the right side of his neck, 
so he concluded that he would proceed in like fashion and 
drive this fellow on to the cowpen. So, he got himself a keen 
gall-shrub switch and tapped him gently upon the tail, and, 
imitating his “pop” as best he could, said “Giddap.” The 
reptile commenced moving, but not exactly in the direction he 
wanted him to go. Going around front, he tapped him about 
the side of the neck, saying, “Haw, Red.” By tapping him 
again upon the tail, with the customary “Giddap,” he soon 
had him inside the lane, going along nicely, when “mom” 
came down the lane to see what was delaying her little son, 
making an end of such companionship. 
In infested territory such an experience may come to anyone, 
any time. The intelligent reader is bound to ask himself or 
herself, “What would I do if this should happen to me?” 
We would advise keeping as nearly under perfect control as 
possible and, in the vernacular of the seafaring man, keep to 
the leeward (not the windward) of the two, gently enticing 
the little one away from the danger. 
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