One of my
companions, St. Jago by name, soon separated a fat cow:
he threw the bolas, and it struck her legs, but failed in
becoming entangled.
Then dropping his hat to mark the spot
where the balls were left, while at full gallop, he uncoiled
his lazo, and after a most severe chase, again came up to
the cow, and caught her round the horns. The other Gaucho
had gone on ahead with the spare horses, so that St. Jago
had some difficulty in killing the furious beast. He managed
to get her on a level piece of ground, by taking advantage
of her as often as she rushed at him; and when she
would not move, my horse, from having been trained, would
canter up, and with his chest give her a violent push. But
when on level ground it does not appear an easy job for
one man to kill a beast mad with terror. Nor would it be
so, if the horse, when left to itself without its rider, did
not soon learn, for its own safety, to keep the lazo tight,
so that, if the cow or ox moves forward, the horse moves
just as quickly forward; otherwise, it stands motionless
leaning on one side. This horse, however, was a young
one, and would not stand still, but gave in to the cow as she
struggled. It was admirable to see with what dexterity St.
Jago dodged behind the beast, till at last he contrived to
give the fatal touch to the main tendon of the hind leg
after which, without much difficulty, he drove his knife
into the head of the spinal marrow, and the cow dropped
as if struck by lightning.
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