The Yellow Rose Part 13

Suddenly the bull gave a bellow, and with one great bound, jumped into the river. Another moment, and everyone of the four and twenty cows had followed him over the edge.

The ferry was just about half-way across.

"Turn back! Turn back!" screamed the Moravian drovers, as the cattle swam straight towards the bank they had left. They wanted the ferry-boat to return instantly, that they might go after their beasts.

"The devil a bit of turning back!" shrieked the market folk. "We must cross! We are late enough for the fair as it is!"

"No need to howl, lads," said the herdsman, with exceeding calm. "I'll bring them to their right minds."

He jumped on his horse, led it along to the end of the ferry, and sticking spurs into its sides, leapt over the rail into the water.

"See, the cowherd will overtake them, no fear!" So the cobbler a.s.sured the despairing drovers.

But the horse-cooper, left behind on the bank, for he had not managed to find room for his horses on board, nor had wished to frighten them among so many cattle, was of a contrary opinion.

"You'll never see more of that herd!" he yelled to the travellers on the ferry-boat. "You may whistle for them!"

"There goes that Jonah again! Where is there a ham bone to shoot him with?" stormed the cobbler.

The herd neared the bank in straggling order, and reaching the shallows, waded out to dry land. The herdsman was behind, for cattle swim faster than a horse. When he too landed, he undid the stock-whip from his neck and cracked it loudly.

"There! He's turning them!" said the market people to console the drovers.

But the cracking of a whip only serves to make cattle run on the faster.

The pa.s.sengers found much exercise for their wit in this cattle incident. The ferry-men a.s.sured them with oaths that it was not the first time by any means that it had happened. Beasts brought from the Hortobagy so often were a.s.sailed by home sickness that no sooner was the ferry-boat put in motion than they would turn restive and spring overboard, swim to the bank, and run back to the puszta.

"Men have the same love of home and country," said the ginger-bread man, who, having often read of it in books, recognised the complaint.

"Ah, yes!" exclaimed Mistress Pundor, "no doubt the cows have gone home to their little calves. That was the mistake, to separate the children from their dear mothers!"

"Now my idea is different," said the cobbler, who was nothing if not sceptical. "I have heard often enough that those cunning betyars, when they want to scatter a herd, put some grease in their pipes. The beasts, when they smell it, go stark, staring mad, and scuttle away in all directions. Then it is easy enough for the betyar to catch a nice little lot for himself. Now I scent something of the sort in this business."

"What you smell something, Daddy, and you don't run away from it?"

Everyone laughed.

"Wait a bit! Just you wait till we get on sh.o.r.e!" said the cobbler.

The Moravian drovers, however, saw nothing laughable in the vagaries of their herd, nor even matter suitable for a discussion on natural history, but began howling and lamenting like burnt-out gypsies.

The old ferry-man, who talked Slav, attempted to console them. "Now don't howl, lads. 'Nye stekat.' He's not stolen your cows, the good herdsman. Those two letters, 'D.T.,' on the copper plate at the side of his cap don't mean 'dastard, thief,' but Debreczin Town. He can't run off with them. When we come over again they'll all be standing there in a group. He'll drive them back, sure enough. Why even his dog went after him! But when we take the cattle on board again we must fasten the cows three together, and tie the bull by the horns to that iron ring. It will be all right, only you must pay the pa.s.sage money twice."

A good hour and a half elapsed before the ferry-boat reached the other bank, unloaded, reloaded, and returned to the Hortobagy side of the river. Then the drovers ran up the hill to the ferry-house, and sought their cattle everywhere. But none were to be seen.

The horse-dealer said that the angry beasts had galloped madly past towards the brushwood, and had quickly disappeared among the willows.

They did not go towards the high road, but ran down wind, heads to the ground, tails up, like beasts attacked by a plague of flies.

A belated potter, coming up from ujvaros with a crockery-laden cart, related how somewhere on the puszta he had met with a herd of cattle, which with a horseman and dog at their heels, had dashed roaring along, towards the Zam hills. Coming to the Hortobagy river, they had all jumped in, and he had lost sight of both rider and cows among the thick reeds.

The ferry-man turned to the gaping drovers,

"Now you _may_ howl, countrymen!" he said.

CHAPTER IX.

The Ohat puszta is the pasture ground of the "mixed" stud. From the corral in the centre, all round to the wide circle of horizon, nothing can be seen but horses grazing. Horses of all colours, which only the richness of the Hungarian language can find names for: bay, grey, black, white-faced, piebald, dappled, chestnut, flea-bitten, strawberry, skewbald, roan, cream-coloured, and, what is rarest among foals, milk-white. Well does this variety of shade and colour deserve to be called the "mixed" herd. A gentleman's stud is something very different, there only horses of one breed and colouring are to be found.

All the horse owners in Debreczin turn out their mares here, where, summer or winter, they never see a stable, and only the head csikos keeps account of their yearly increase. Here, too, the famous pacers are raised, which are sought for from afar; for not every horse can stand a sandy country, a mountain-bred one, for example, collapses if it once treads an Alfold road.

Scattered groups are to be seen grazing industriously round the stallions. For the horse is always feeding. Learned men say that when Jupiter created Minerva, he cast this curse on the horse, that it might always eat, yet never be filled.

Four or five mounted csikos watch over the herd, with its thousand or so unruly colts, and use their thick stock-whips to drive back the more adventurous.

The arrangement here is the same as with the cattle herd, the "karam" or shanty, kitchen, wind shelter and well. Only, there is neither barrow-boy, nor "poor man's peat," nor protecting watch-dog, for the horse cannot endure any of the canine tribe, and whether it be dog or wolf, both get kicked.

Noon was approaching, and the widely scattered troops of horses began to draw towards the great well. Two carriages were also nearing from the direction of the Hortobagy bridge. The head csikos, a thick-set, bony old man, shading his eyes with his hand, recognised the new-comers from afar--by their horses.

"One is Mr. Mihaly Kadar, the other, Pelikan, the horse-dealer. I knew, when I looked in my calendar, that they would honour me to day."

"Then, is that written in the calendar?" asked Sandor, the herdsman, surprised.

"Yes, my boy! Everything is in 'Csathy's Almanack.' The Onod cattle market is on Sunday, and Pelikan must take horses there."

His prognostications were correct. The visitors had come about horses, Mr. Mihaly Kadar, being the seller, and Mr. Samuel Pelikan, the buyer.

Surely everyone can recognise Mr. Mihaly Kadar--a handsome, round-faced man, with his smiling countenance and waxed moustache, and figure curving outwards at the waist. He wore a braided mantle, a round hat, and held a long, thin walking-stick, the top carved to represent a bird's head. His was the group of horses standing beside the pool, with the roan stallion leading them.

Samuel Pelikan was a bony individual, with a large, crooked nose, long beard and moustache, his back and legs somewhat bent from continually trying of horses. There was a crane's feather in his high, wide-brimmed hat, his waistcoat was checked, his jacket short, and his baggy, nankeen trousers tucked into his top-boots. A cigar case was pushed into his side pocket, and he carried a long riding-whip.

These gentlemen, leaving their carriages, walked to the "karam" and shook hands with the overseer, who awaited them there. Then an order was given to the herdsmen, and they all went out to the herd.

Two mounted csikos, with tremendous cracking of whips, rounded up the lot of horses, among which were Mr. Kadar's. There were about two hundred colts in all, some of which had never felt the hand of man. As they drove them in a long curved line before the experts, the horse-dealer pointed out a galloping roan mare to the herdsman on the gra.s.s at his side.

"I would like that one!"

Thereupon, Sandor Decsi, casting aside jacket and cloak, seized the coiled-up la.s.so in his right hand, wound the other end round his left, and stepped towards the advancing herd. Swift as lightning, he flung out the long line at the chosen mare, and with mathematical precision the noose caught its neck instantly, half throttling it. The other colts rushed on neighing; the prisoner remained, tossed its head, kicked, reared, all in vain. There stood the man, holding on to the la.s.so, as if made of cast-iron, and with his loose sleeves slipping back, he resembled one of those ancient Greek or Roman statues--"the Horse-Tamers." Gradually, in spite of all resistance, and pulling hand over hand, he hauled in the horse. Its eyes protruded, the nostrils were dilated, its breathing came in gasps. Then flinging his arms round its neck, the csikos whispered something in its ear, loosened the noose from its neck, and the wild, frightened animal became straightway as gentle as a lamb, readily resigning its head to the halter. They fastened it directly to the horse-cooper's trap, who hastened to reconcile his victim with a piece of bread and salt.

This athletic display was three times repeated; nor did Sandor Decsi once bungle his work. But it happened the fourth time, that the noose was widely distended, and slipped down to the horse's chest. Not being choked, it did not yield so easily; but commenced kicking and capering, and dragged the csikos, at the other end of the line, quite a considerable distance. But he put forth his strength at last, and led the captive before his owners.

"Truly that is a finer amus.e.m.e.nt than playing billiards in the 'Bull,'"

said Pelikan, turning to Mr. Kadar.

"Well, it's his only work!" returned the worthy civilian.