THE FORKS OF THE RIVER TOE 321 
the sixth yoke, foaming at the mouth, with protrud- 
ing eyes and every muscle tense. Slowly, terribly, 
the long line of cattle pulled down the rough descent, 
now stumbling, now jerked from the narrow trail to 
be at once mercilessly whipped into line. The 
seventh yoke, with lowered heads and panting sides, 
was followed by the eighth, a lordly pair, for the 
creatures were larger as the line advanced. These 
great brutes were dark-red with white stars on their 
foreheads, their breathing was audible, they were 
almost groaning, their flanks rose and fell in quick, 
short jerks, foam dripped from their mouths, their 
tongues hung out as they strained forward against 
the yoke. 
Suddenly the commotion in the rear was renewed, 
the taut chain jerked, the cattle veered, the chain 
suddenly slackened and one of the great red oxen lost 
his footing. He stumbled frightfully against a tree 
trunk, his foot sank into a hole, it seemed as though 
his legs must be broken and his great sides crushed as 
he fell forward against the tree on his neck, his head 
stretched out. Several whiplashes swung out and 
descended with sharp reports upon his quivering 
skin, a dozen men yelled, and he struggled to his 
feet with bloodshot eyes. 
Again the long line started, again the living en- 
gines bent to their herculean task, and the ninth 
yoke came into view. The noise increased and the 
sound drew nearer as of a tremendous weight crash- 
ing down the mountain-side, waking the forest to 
horrid clamor. The tenth yoke passed, a pair of 
