. .
I was grazing along what my owner says Ring Lardner would
laughingly call a fence, and just stepped through, or on, or
over, it to where the grass looked greener. And then I went on
and up to where there was less grass and more gravel, and some
ties and rails. . . Then something happened, and I went winding
down and down. Oh, the pain!
My owner . . . has said more nice things about me and my good
qualities and worth since I got hurt than he ever said in all the
years gone before. . . He said to some men who came out to see me
after I was damn near killed: "Did you ever in your life see so
good an individual bull, any where, any time? Look at that head.
Imagine what it looked like before he got hit. . . I wouldn't
have taken a thousand dollars for him before he was hurt. No. I
wouldn't have taken two thousand dollars, nor there isn't a man
among you who would have taken five thousand for him if he had
been yours". . . Then my owner said: "It's confidential, of
course, and I know you men well enough to know you'll keep it to
yourselves. Ex-Governor Warren McCray had a man down here
secretly to buy him at $10,000--to head his herd."
"Now," my owner says, "what would you appraise him at? I want to
be fair with the railroad.
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