On the fourth night out he
had thrown off his mask and announced his presence in his true light
by butting a sleepy steer out of its bed, which bed he straightway
proceeded to appropriate for himself. This was folly, for the ground was
not cold and he had no excuse for stealing a body-warmed place to lie
down; it was pure cussedness, and retribution followed hard upon the
act. In about half a minute he had discovered the great difference
between bullying poor, miserable, defenceless dogies and trying to bully
a healthy, fully developed, and pugnacious steer. After assimilating
the preliminary punishment of what promised to be the most thorough and
workmanlike thrashing he had ever known, the indignant and frightened
bummer wheeled and fled incontinently with the aroused steer in angry
pursuit. The best way out was the most puzzling to the vengeful steer,
so the bummer cavorted recklessly through the herd, turning and twisting
and doubling, stepping on any steer that happened to be lying down in
his path, butting others, and leavening things with great success. Under
other conditions he would have relished the effect of his efforts,
for the herd had arisen as one animal and seemed to be debating the
advisability of stampeding; but he was in no mood to relish anything and
thought only of getting away. Finally escaping from his pursuer, that
had paused to fight with a belligerent brother, he rambled off into the
darkness to figure it all out and to maintain a sullen and chastened
demeanor for the rest of the night.
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