Sundown was proud of his chickens.
The cow, however, had been, at first, rather a disappointment to him.
Milk had not heretofore been a conspicuous portion of Sundown's diet,
nor was he versed in the art of obtaining it except over the counter in
tins. With due formality and some trepidation he had placed a pail
beneath "Gentle Annie" as he called her, and had waited patiently. So
had Gentle Annie, munching a reflective cud, and Sundown, in a
metaphorical sense, doing likewise. He had walked around the cow
inspecting her with an anxious and critical eye. She seemed healthful
and voluptuously contented. Yet no milk came. Bud Shoop, having at
that moment arrived with the team, sized up the situation. When he had
recovered enough poise to stand without assistance and had wiped the
wild tears from his eyes, he instructed the amazed Sundown as to
certain manipulations necessary to produce the desired result. "Huh!
Folks says cows _give_ milk. But I reckon that ain't right," Sundown
had asserted. "You got to take it away from 'em." So he had taken
what he could, which was not, at first, a great deal.
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