"Come along!" the _Villicus_ commanded.
We trooped off to a pen where there was a fine breeding-bull all alone.
"Get inside, lad!" said the _Villicus_; "that is, if you dare. But be sure
you are ready to vault out again, and entirely able to clear the pen."
I climbed into the pen and stood. The bull gazed at me, but made no
threatening movement and his demeanor was placid. I walked up to him, a
pace at a time, patted his nose, pulled his ears, walked round him,
stroking him, took hold of the ring in his nose and led him over toward
the awestruck gapers:
When I climbed out of the pen one man said:
"Try him on old Scrofa."
We trooped off to the hog-pens and there was a six or eight-year-old sow
with a young litter. She was a huge beast, as ugly a sow as ever I saw. I
got into her pen, miring half to my knees in its filth, but keeping my
feet. She made no move to attack me, but grunted enquiringly. I picked up
one of her pigs, it hardly squealed and she grunted scarcely more than she
had already. I dangled the piglet before her, and she only smelt it and
kept on grunting, with no sign of wrath.
"Come out, Felix," the _Villicus_ drawled, "you are sow-proof. But how do
you do it?"
"I don't know," I replied, "but I have always been able to gentle fierce
animals of any kind.
Pages:
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559