I was happy, thoroughly happy, and I
throve from my arrival. I still mourned for Agathemer, but I did not miss
him as acutely as I had in the _ergastulum_.
After about ten days in the woodland glades I brought my charges back to
the villa for inspection, according to orders. The inspector was pleased
with their condition and commended me. Some of the fellow-herdsmen, off
duty, stood or sat about and they seemed to approve.
One of them asked:
"Have much trouble, Greenhorn?"
"Not a bit," I answered.
"How'd you like to try to milk one of those cows?" another enquired.
"I can milk any one of them," I replied. "I have milked most of them. I've
been drinking all the milk I could hold all the while I was out with
them."
"That's the silliest lie I ever heard," they chorused. "Why, if you tried
to handle any one of those cows she'd gore you to death. You couldn't get
near enough to the udder of any one of them to get your hand on her teats.
Invent a lie we can swallow, or quit bragging. You can't fool us."
I kept my temper, scaled the enclosure of the cow-pen, being careful not
to make any sudden movement, strolled to the nearest cow, stroked her
nose, pulled her ears, walked down her flank, patting her as I went and
handled her udder.
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