"Prince Albert," the bull, was a gem. He worked admirably. He never
gave me any trouble, or anyone else human, but when stalled near the
oxen he had a peculiar fancy to poke his horns into them. Early one
morning, by some mischance, he got loose in the barn, and "going" for
one of them frightened him so much that he also broke loose, and in
trying to make his escape from the bull, backed into the barn-room.
There was a large trap door in it, and the ox ventured on it, breaking
it, and fell through. The bull was so close behind that he could not
escape, and they dropped together into the little room below, the door
of which was open. The ox escaped into the yard, and ran for dear life
around the front of the Hive, pursued by the bull. Whether the jar of
the fall, his escape, or his quiet disposition sobered him I know not,
but he soon fell into a jog-trot pursuit, and was caught and returned
by a neighboring farmer.
There was great roaring and noise in the fracas, which was of short
duration, but long enough to bring out the men from the Hive to witness
the affair. The General, who had been sleeping a little late--probably
he had been baking bread the night before--made his appearance from his
little room on the ground floor, with boot on one foot and shoe on the
other, just as it was all over, with the impatient inquiry, "W-w-what
is it all about?" On an explanation of the affair being made, the next
question he asked, in all earnestness, soberness and simplicity, was
"W-h-o-i-c-h came out ahead?" The personal appearance and manner of the
General, and the absurd question, uttered in a vehement and stammering
way, touched a ludicrous spot in the minds of the spectators so
permanently that should you ask one of them to-day, "Which came out
ahead?" he will smile or give you a shout of laughter in return.
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