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took no chances. We were braced and welded against the back of that seat.
    Slim let him drive all the way up to the cattle guard that led into the north pasture and then he took the controls back, saying, “Button, that cattle guard’s about as wide as it needs to be, and I’ll take ’er from here.”
    When we crossed the cattle guard, Slim scanned the horizon and started talking to himself. “Now let’s get organized here. This time of day in the summer, them cattle are most likely to be at the windmill. We’ll check there first for that bull.”
    He threw the gearshift up into Grandma Low and we started down a washed-out trail that led into a ravine. When we reached the bottom, we saw the windmill up ahead. Sure enough, fifty or sixty cows and calves were lazing around the water tank.
    â€œThere he is,” said Slim in a low voice, “and look at the size of that feller! That, boys, is a lot of bull.”
    I followed the direction of his gaze and . . . hmm, yes, that was a big bull, all right, with a nasty hump in his back and a wide head like a catfish and a mean-looking set of horns.
    Drover was staring at the clouds and hadn’t seen the bull yet.
    â€œYou know, Drover, if Slim needs any help on this assignment, it might be a good time to let you get some experience.”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œThere’s no substitute for experience, son, and I know that I have a tendency to hog all the excite­ment. Yes, by George, we’ll just let you solo on this one.”
    â€œGosh, thanks, Hank. Are you sure I can handle it?”
    â€œUh, well, that’s the whole idea behind hands-on training, Drover, finding answers to those little questions. And yes, I’m confident that you will learn a great deal from this experience.”
    â€œOh boy, I can hardly wait. Just bark at him?”
    â€œOh yeah, bark at him and maybe bite him on the nose if he tries to attack.”
    His eyes went blank. “Attack? What kind of cow is this?”
    â€œWell, it’s not exactly a cow, Drover, more of a bull than a cow.”
    â€œA bull?”
    â€œThat’s correct, just an ordinary garden variety of bull who happens to be in the wrong pasture and has forgotten how to get back home. Nothing special, in other words.”
    All at once the runt stopped looking at the clouds and squinted his eyes at the cattle in front of us. I heard him gulp.
    â€œThat wouldn’t be him right over there, would it? With the hump in his back and the big horns?”
    â€œDon’t worry about the hump, son. Camels have two humps and they’re the friendliest animals you ever saw. The hump means nothing, almost nothing at all.”
    â€œYeah, but look at those horns!”

    â€œOnce again, the horns mean almost nothing. The idea is to stay out of the way of the horns. I noticed that his eyes had crossed. “Drover, something’s wrong with your eyes.”
    â€œNo, it’s my leg. It’s killing me.”
    â€œWhat I’m looking at is not your leg, unless you’ve moved it up around your nose.”
    â€œNo, it hurts to move it. Just the least little movement brings on this terrible pain. Maybe I’d better sit this one out, Hank.”
    â€œForget that, son. You’re fixing to make a solo run.”
    â€œOh, my leg!”
    By this time Slim had unloaded his horse and led him up to the pickup. He pulled all his cinches down tight.
    â€œButton, I’m going to try to drive that bull back where he belongs. If he’ll drive, I’ll take him up that hill and through that gate yonder, and I’ll be back in ten minutes. While I’m gone, I want you to stay in the pickup, you hear?”
    The boy nodded.
    â€œâ€™Cause if you get out and go to foolin’ around with these baby calves, some of those mommas are liable to think you’re a prowlin’ coyote instead of Sally May’s darlin’ child, and one of