in a perfectly human way. Disconsolately they wandered over the river
to the other bank feeling sure they would find grass there, only to
find the snow over everything, and not even a little rosebush showing
its head.

Then it was that the old cow, an acknowledged leader of the herd,
who bore the name of the "Broncho," on account of her wildness, her
glaring red eyes and her branching horns, with an angry toss of her
head to shake the water from her eyes, lifted her voice in one long,
angry, rolling bellow that seemed to startle the whole herd. It had
in it defiance, and determination. Like the leading spirit among the
leprous men who sat at the gate of Samaria, the "Broncho" gathered up
the feeling of the meeting in one long soul-stirring, racuous bawl,
which, interpreted, meant, "Why sit we here until we die?"

The primitive law of self-preservation was at work--even a cow will
not starve quietly. The grass had been scarce for days, and she had
lain down hungry each night for a week; and now, when the grass had
gone entirely, the old cow had taken her determination; she would go
home and demand her right to live. This thought surging through her
soul, gave decision to her movements. Whether the other cattle came or
not did not matter in the least--she knew what she was going to do.
The strong northwest wind which began to whip the fresh snow into
loose waves, turned the cattle to face the south east, in which
direction the settlement lay. Miserable cattle, like miserable people,
are easily led. It is only the well-fed and comfortable who are not
willing to change their condition, and so when the others saw the
"Broncho" forging up the hill, the whole herd, as if at a word of
command, lurched forward up the bank.