If she was too soon left to her own devices, however, she was likely to return.

An old cowman knows to a second just the proper moment to abandon her.
Sometimes, in spite of our best efforts a cow succeeded in circling us and plunging into the main herd.

The temptation was then strong to plunge in also, and to drive her out by main force; but the temptation had to be resisted.

A dash into the thick of it might break the whole band.

At once, of his own accord, Little G dropped to his fast, shuffling walk, and again we addressed ourselves to the task of pushing her gently to the edge.
This was all comparatively simple--almost any pony is fast enough for the calf cut--but now Homer gave orders for the steer cut to begin, and steers are rapid and resourceful and full of natural cussedness.
Little G and I were relieved by Windy Bill, and betook ourselves to the outside of the herd.
Here we had leisure to observe the effects that up to this moment we had ourselves been producing.