"What have you to say now?" I called to the gaping yokels.
"Try that on another," they shouted back.
I did the like with two more.
They were dumb.
"Hand me a crock," I called, "and I'll get a quart or so of milk, if the
calves have left any."
When, one handed me a small _olla_ I milked it more than half-full from a
dozen cows. I exhibited the milk, offered it to them, and, on their
laughingly replying that they were no milk-sops, they preferred wine, I
drank most of it. Then I went to the nearest calf, gentled it, picked it
up, lifted it onto my back, its legs sticking out in front of me across my
shoulders, and paced back and forth along the inside of the fence, the
mother following me, licking the calf and lowing, but mild and with no
show of anger, let alone any threat of attack on me.
Before I put the calf down the superintendent came along.
"What's all this?" he queried.
"Felix here," he was answered, "is a sort of wizard. He can gentle these
cows, he can milk them, and he has been showing off how one will let him
carry her calf and yet not get excited."
"Can you do as well with bulls, too?" the _Villicus_ enquired.
"I think so," I replied. I had put down the calf and climbed out of the
cow-pen.
Pages:
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558