Evening Republican, Volume 14, Number 166, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 July 1910 — Tact and the Brindle Cow [ARTICLE]

Tact and the Brindle Cow

By John Philip Arth

There It was, flat and plain. “Mamma told me yesterday that If I did not discourage you she would speak to you herself.” “But what can she have against me?" “She says she’s going to take me abroad next year and have some lord or duke fall in love with me. Oh, Will, I wish mother, wasn’t —wasn’t such a goose!" “And you’ll give me up to marry a title?" “N-o, and yet I must do as mother says, musn’t I? If you’d only go at It and do something heroic. Can’t you save mother’s life in some way? Can’t some great danger threaten her and you rescue her," Will Pelham had known Glynn Burnham for a year or more, and he had been engaged to her for the last three months, though it was a secret engagement. He lived in the city and had graduated as a mining engineer and was looking for a place. He had no money to speak of, and he did not go into society much, but those who knew him spoke in his praise. He had an uncle living near the widow’s country house, 15 miles out, and he had been coming down to see that uncle every Saturday afternoon and finding his way over to the other house. The mother had never had a very warm welcome for him. Now she had put her foot down. She wanted a rich and titled son-in-law. He must not call at the house any more. If Glynn wouldn't elope with him he must give her up. While he was holding down a place in Montana or Nevada, a thousand miles away, she would be taken off to Europe to captivate some old man with a title and the gout.

Miss Glynn was tearful and he was’ said at the parting, though neither looked at it as final. It was too sudden. " Two human hearts cannot be parted that way. They must have time to get accustomed to thee separation. On his way over to his uncle's young Mr. Pelham noticed the and ambitious mother in the meadow culling daisies. She had gone forth to give the daughter an opportunity to repeat her words. Forty rods farther along the highway he noticed a brindle cow looking over the fence at the widow and shaking her head and giving other signs of anger. Only a civil or mining engineer, whose profession is to surmount all difficulties, whether above or below the surface, would have stopped for five minutes to wonder how to bring that brindle cow and that ambitious woman together. He looked at the woman as she culled —at the cow as she mumbled —at the solitary tree in the pasture, and he decided that it could be done. He went home to ask of his uncle: “Who owns that old brindle cow over there?” "Why, Grlggson does. I meant to tell you about her. Don't try to cross that field. She’s pretty near killed two tramps this summer.” That was enough for a starter, and Will sat down to figure the rest out to scale. This would be an above ground affair, but there would be some points to solve. For instance: How fast can a brindle cow run? How much faster than a brindle cow can a young man in love run? What are the first impressions of an ambitious mother at seeing a brindle cow coming for her in an open lot? Would her second impressions bid her clinch the tree within a few yards of her? Can a young man in love run around the trunk of a tree faster than a brindle cow not in love? All these things entered into the engineering problem before the young man, but he had a week to work at them before coming again, and there was a hopeful smile on his face. He knew by letter what had happened after he left the house. The mother had come in with her bouquet of daisies and said: "I saw that person passing along the road half an hour ago." “Yes, mamma.” "You told him what I asked you tot’ “Yes." “And he knows my feelings on the subject?" “Yes.” “Then we may consider the matter as settled. In reading the daily papers after this, if you come across any titled persons mentioned cut out the piece and save it. I am glad you have acted so sensibly about the thing. Every girl’s mother knows what is best for her." Miss Glynn was not weeping and she was not smiling. She was wondering how good a mining engineer Will Pelham was. A week later and he was on his mettle. He was looking over the fence throwing clubs at that brindle cow to stir her up. She was easily stirred. Mrs. Burnham was in the daisy field again, and the old bovine considered it a personal affront. After a few moments the cow was engineered away from the fence and the rails thrown down. Then, the engineer started for the tree, 30 rods away. He began, at the same time, to shout to the daisy gatherer: “To the tree! To the tree! Swing yourself up into the tree!” The first impression of the widow was to run. The second was to skip for the tree. Could she climb? She could. It is pleblan for a woman to climb trees, but she seized a low-

hanging brahoh and went up like a coon before a dog. That brindle cow t coming on the dead run, and gaining on the engineer at every jump, looked bigger than any title in Europe just then. Will Pelham could run! In running with a bride as the prize he could' make a locomotive look tired. He reached the tree seven feet six inches ahead of the old brindle. He hadn’t planned to climb the tree. No heroics can take place up a tree. He sheltered himself behind the trunk, and the brindle cow passed it by an inch and drove on with a bellow. “O-h-h-h, Mr. Pelham!" from up the tree. “Yes, yes!” “We shall both be killed!” “I suspect that we shall, but I’ll die ” There was not time to add the word, “game." The cow was coming back l like a freight train on a down grade, and the engineer had to side-step again. The bellows of rage as the target was missed would have done credit to a fog-horn. “Mr. Pelham, she will surely kill you and then climb the tree and kiUi me!”

“I—l can dodge her a little longer.’*! “But climb up here beside me before It’s too late." “My shoulder, you know—l can’t! climb. Hang on for your life—she’s; coming again!" If that brindle cow had set out earlier in life she might have beaten the Standard Oil company in owning the United States. She had sand.> She had perseverance. She had She charged again and again. She hooked and bunted the tree and! brought down screams and prayers. l She kept the engineer dodging like a! cat on a hot stove, and it was a long half hour before she tired out. “I cannot die! Save me! Save me!” came down from the branches for the tenth time. “I will!” was repeated for the same number. And it was done. Mr. Pelham left the shelter of the tree and made a dash for a piece of fence-rail 50 feet away and got It. Then he went for. brindle. She bluffed, but he hammered her horns and nose and spinal column and hind-quarters, and he ran her back ihto her pasture a sadder; and wiser farmer’s friend. He turned! to see a crumpled woman lying at the foot of the tree. He advanced to find that it was Mrs. Burnham, and that she wanted to take his arm and go home. They didn’t say much during ' the walk. It was when they reached the veranda and the waiting, wondering Glynn that the quavering voice of her mother said: “Glynn, this isn’t a person—it’s Mr. Pelham, and if yon want to tell him that we’ve given up our European trip you can do so. Be sure to ask him to stay to dinner. How grand!! How noble! How courageous!”