Elder Conklin | Page 9

wasn't sartin. Ef

your callin' and election ain't sure, I guess Mr. Crew oughter talk to
you."
These phrases were jerked out with long pauses separating them, and
then the Elder was ominously silent.
In various ways Bancroft attempted to draw him into conversation--in
vain. The Elder answered in monosyllables, or not at all. Presently he
entered the woods on the left, and soon halted before the shoot-entrance
to a roughly-built corral.
"The kyows is yonder," he remarked; "ef you'll drive them hyar, I'll
count them as they come in."
The schoolmaster turned his horse's head in the direction pointed out.
He rode for some minutes through the wood without seeing a single
animal. Under ordinary circumstances this would have surprised him;
but now he was absorbed in thinking of Conklin and his peculiarities,
wondering at his habit of silence and its cause:
"Has he nothing to say? Or does he think a great deal without being
able to find words to express his thoughts?"
A prolonged moan, a lowing of cattle in pain, came to his ears. He
made directly for the sound, and soon saw the herd huddled together by
the snake-fence which zigzagged along the bank of the creek. He went
on till he came to the boundary fence which ran at right angles to the
water, and then turning tried to drive the animals towards the corral. He
met, however, with unexpected difficulties. He had brought a
stock-whip with him, and used it with some skill, though without result.
The bullocks and cows swerved from the lash, but before they had gone
ten yards they wheeled and bolted back. At first this manouvre amused
him. The Elder, he thought, has brought me to do what he couldn't do
himself; I'll show him I can drive. But no! in spite of all his efforts, the
cattle would not be driven. He grew warm, and set himself to the work.
In a quarter of an hour his horse was in a lather, and his whip had
flayed one or two of the bullocks, but there they stood again with necks
outstretched towards the creek, lowing piteously. He could not

understand it. Reluctantly he made up his mind to acquaint the Elder
with the inexplicable fact. He had gone some two hundred yards when
his tired horse stumbled. Holding him up, Bancroft saw he had tripped
over a mound of white dust. A thought struck him. He threw himself
off the horse, and tasted the stuff; he was right; it was salt! No wonder
he could not drive the cattle; no wonder they lowed as if in pain--the
ground had been salted.
He remounted and hastened to the corral. He found the Elder sitting on
his horse by the shoot, the bars of which were down.
"I can't move those cattle!"
"You said you knew how to drive."
"I do, but they are mad with thirst; no one can do anything with them.
Besides, in this sun they might die on the road."
"Hum."
"Let them drink; they'll go on afterwards."
"Hum." And the Elder remained for some moments silent. Then he said,
as if thinking aloud:
"It's eight miles to Eureka; they'll be thirsty again before they get to the
town."
Bancroft, too, had had his wits at work, and now answered the other's
thought. "I guess so; if they're allowed just a mouthful or two they can
be driven, and long before they reach Eureka they'll be as thirsty as
ever."
Without a word in reply the Elder turned his horse and started off at a
lope. In ten minutes the two men had taken down the snake fence for a
distance of some fifty yards, and the cattle had rushed through the gap
and were drinking greedily.
After they had had a deep draught or two, Bancroft urged his horse into

the stream and began to drive them up the bank. They went easily
enough now, and ahead of them rode the Elder, his long whitey-brown
holland coat fluttering behind him. In half an hour Bancroft had got the
herd into the corral. The Elder counted the three hundred and sixty-two
beasts with painstaking carefulness as they filed by.
The prairie-track to Eureka led along the creek, and in places ran close
to it without any intervening fence. In an hour under that hot October
sun the cattle had again become thirsty, and it needed all Bancroft's
energy and courage to keep them from dashing into the water. Once or
twice indeed it was a toss-up whether or not they would rush over him.
He was nearly exhausted when some four hours after the start they
came in sight of the little town. Here he let the herd into the creek. Glad
of the rest, he sat on his