The Wahpeton Times

Navigating an Ox-Team

A day or two ago a local policeman had occasion to arrest a yoke of oxen and imprison them in Franklin street stable amid hay and sundries. He approached the cud chewers, and, taking the goad-stick prepared to drive them. Reader, did you ever navigate a yoke of oxen and a hay-rack? Did you ever agitate the goad-stick? Did you ever address barnyard conversation to the mild-eyed beasts? If you never did you don't know how easy it is not to drive oxen. The policeman began wrong, in the first place. He got on the wrong side of the cattle, and when he addressed "gee-haw' to the pair they haw-goed instead of gee-hawing. This was evident, after they had taken six or seven long steps, for whereas the policeman had intended to lay a course due south, they made leeway toward Chapel street and seemed inclined to head due north for the Lewiston exchange. A number of frantic "whoes" brought them to and enabled the policeman to reply to a sarcastic allusion of a country lad who was sitting on the tongue of an ox team loaded with hay near by. The boy said: "Mister P'liceman, you'd drive them ere steers better if you'd git round on t'other side." The officer accepted the advice and jabbed the off ox. He jumped and they started. This time they collided with the barber pole and got one wheel of the hay-rack almost into a pile of meal bags. The officer grew excited. He "whoa-hised" and "gee bucked." He got them started an then got round in front and tried to stop them by his pleading gestures. He drew an audience. He waved the stick like a farmer driving for the state-fair pulling stakes. He smiled through his grief and finally got the patient beasts, who probably were as much surprised as he was. straightened away and running before the wind for the snug harbor where hay was plenty and anchorage secure. -Lewiston Journal.