On the
south side we came to the best country for wild cattle; we met,
however, no great number, for they had been lately much harassed.
In the evening we came across a small herd. 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.
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