"'Tain't fur now," said that person, passing over the rope with a knot in the end with which he had belaboured the horses he had driven ahead of him. "Mog along stiddy and you'd ought to make it by sundown." "I think I'll lead 'em," Wallie remarked. "Locoed horses won't lead--you've got to drive 'em." Nevertheless, on the chance that "Tex" might not know everything, Wallie tried it after his helper had galloped in another direction. "The best pulling team in the state!" the auctioneer had declared, and truthfully. Wallie had a notion they could have moved the Capitol building if they had laid back on it as they did their halters when he tried to lead them. There was nothing for it but to tie their heads together and drive them as Tex had done, but with even less success. They missed either Tex's voluble and spicy encouragement or the experienced hand which laid on the rope end, but the chief difficulty seemed to be that they were of different minds as to the direction which they should take, and since the cow was of still another, Wallie was confronted with a difficult situation. Dragging the mild-eyed Jersey, which had developed an incredible obstinacy with the cessation of Tex's Comanche yells behind her, Wallie applied the rope he had inherited, with the best imitation he could give of the performance, but futilely. The cow and the horses pulling in opposite directions went around and around in a circle until the trampled earth looked as if it had been the site of a cider-press or a circus. After they had milled for twenty minutes without advancing a step Wallie lost patience. "Oh, sugar!" he cried. "This is certainly very, very annoying!" The cow was as much an obstacle to the continuance of their journey as the horses, since, bawling at intervals, she planted her feet and allowed her neck to be stretched until Wallie was fearful that it would separate, leaving only her gory head in the halter. With this unpleasant possibility confronting him, Wallie shrank from putting too much strain upon it with the result that the cow learned that if she bawled loud enough and laid back hard enough, he would ease up on the rope by which he was dragging her. Wallie had been taught from infancy that kindness was the proper method of conquering animals, therefore he addressed the cow in tones of saccharine sweetness and with a persuasive manner that would have charmed a bird off a tree. "Bossy! Bossy! Good bossy!" he cajoled her. Immune to flattery, she looked at him with an expression which reminded him of a servant girl who knows she is giving notice at an inopportune time. Then she planted her feet still deeper in the sand and bawled at him. "Darn it!" he cried, finally, in his exasperation. As he sat helpless in his dilemma, wondering what to do next, an idea occurred to him which was so clever and feasible that he lost no time in executing it.