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 funously 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