The rest of that winter Bingo spent in our shanty, living the life of a
blubbery, fat, well-meaning, ill-doing puppy; gorging himself with food
and growing bigger and clumsier each day. Even sad experience failed
to teach him that he must keep his nose out of the rat trap. His most
friendly overtures to the cat were wholly misunderstood and resulted
only in an armed neutrality that varied by occasional reigns of terror,
continued to the end; which came when Bingo, who early showed a mind of
his own, got a notion for sleeping at the barn and avoiding the shanty
altogether.
When the spring came I set about his serious education. After much pains
on my behalf and many pains on his, he learned to go at the word in
quest of our old yellow cow, that pastured at will on the unfenced
prairie.
Once he had learned his business, he became very fond of it and nothing
pleased him more than an order to go and fetch the cow. Away he would
dash, barking with pleasure and leaping high in the air that he might
better scan the plain for his victim. In a short time he would return
driving her at full gallop before him, and gave her no peace until,
puffing and blowing, she was safely driven into the farthest corner of
her stable.
Less energy on his part would have been more satisfactory, but we bore
with him until he grew so fond of this semi-daily hunt that he began to
bring 'old Dunne' without being told. And at length not once or twice
but a dozen times a day this energetic cowherd would sally forth on his
own responsibility and drive the cow home to the stable.
At last things came to such a pass that whenever he felt like taking a
little exercise, or had a few minutes of spare time, or even happened to
think of it, Bingo would sally forth at racing speed over the plain
and a few minutes later return, driving the unhappy yellow cow at full
gallop before him.
At first this did not seem very bad, as it kept the cow from straying
too far; but soon it was seen that it hindered her feeding. She became
thin and gave less milk; it seemed to weigh on her mind too, as she
was always watching nervously for that hateful dog, and in the mornings
would hang around the stable as though afraid to venture off and subject
herself at once to an onset.
This was going too far. All attempts to make Bingo more moderate in his
pleasure were failures, so he was compelled to give it up altogether.
After this, though he dared not bring her home, he continued to show his
interest by lying at her stable door while she was being milked.
As the summer came on the mosquitoes became a dreadful plague, and the
consequent vicious switching of Dunne's tail at milking-time was even
more annoying than the mosquitoes.
Fred, the brother who did the milking, was of an inventive as well as
an impatient turn of mind, and he devised a simple plan to stop the
switching. He fastened a brick to the cow's tail, then set blithely
about his work assured of unusual comfort while the rest of us looked on
in doubt.
Suddenly through the mist of mosquitoes came a dull whack and an
outburst of 'language.' The cow went on placidly chewing till Fred got
on his feet and furiously attacked her with the milking-stool. It was
bad enough to be whacked on the ear with a brick by a stupid old cow,
but the uproarious enjoyment and ridicule of the bystanders made it
unendurable.
Bingo, hearing the uproar, and divining that he was needed, rushed in
and attacked Dunne on the other side. Before the affair quieted down the
milk was spilt, the pail and stool were broken, and the cow and the dog
severely beaten.
Poor Bingo could not understand it at all. He had long ago learned to
despise that cow, and now in utter disgust he decided to forsake even
her stable door, and from that time be attached himself exclusively to
the horses and their stable.
The cattle were mine, the horses were my brother's, and in transferring
his allegiance from the cow-stable to the horse-stable Bingo seemed to
give me up too, and anything like daily companionship ceased, and yet,
whenever any emergency arose Bingo turned to me and I to him, and both
seemed to feel that the bond between man and dog is one that lasts as
long as life.
The only other occasion on which Bingo acted as cowherd was in the
autumn of the same year at the annual Carberry Fair. Among the dazzling
inducements to enter one's stock there was, in addition to a prospect of
glory, a cash prize of 'two dollars' for the 'best collie in training'.
Misled by a false friend, I entered Bingo, and early on the day fixed,
the cow was driven to the prairie just outside of the village. When the
time came she was pointed out to Bingo and the word given--'Go fetch the
cow.' It was the intention, of course, that he should bring her to me at
the judge's stand.
But the animals knew better. They hadn't rehearsed all summer for
nothing. When Dunne saw Bingo's careering form she knew that her only
hope for safety was to get into her stable, and Bingo was equally sure
that his sole mission in life was to quicken her pace in that direction.
So off they raced over the prairie, like a wolf after a deer, and
heading straight toward their home two miles way, they disappeared from
view.
That was the last that judge or jury ever saw of dog or cow. The prize
was awarded to the only other entry.