26th June, A fat ox with evil will

Vickery stopped, putting his hand out to stop Torrington, as he found the source of the bother.

It was an ox, a big thing, one of the animals that provided the army with their ration of beef. And it was eyeing up Rifleman Pye, who was holding out a handful of hay towards it and trying to coax it into doing... what?

"Easy..." Pye murmured. So, the plan to make the ox not run wild around camp, had worked. Now, he did not think he would have gotten as far, which meant that he had not planned ahead as to what he would do once the ox was under semi-control.

"Um... Come along. "He took a step back, waving his hand infront of his nose lightly. "We'll find you more food." And hopefully by then somebody would have located some rope to tie the beast down somewhere secure.

The ox looked at Pye and let out a deep, resounding snort. His ears flickered back and forth, but he seemed not too much bothered by the young riflemen. Shaking himself so that the ring through his nostrils jingled, he came a step closer, pulling the last few strands of hay into his mouth.

The other soldiers had mostly formed a circle again; some had their rifles ready, but most looked a bit helpless at the two officers. The ox hadn't reacted exactly well to them coming closer before, and no-one dared to upset him. At the moment he seemed content enough to communicate with Pye, but should he bolt, the young rifleman was in danger. One held a long rope out to Pye, but after another snort from the ox didn't come closer.
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The hiatus lasted for the better part of a minute. Then somewhere a volley of shots rang out, probably a drill, or maybe some of the sentries or foragers, and the ox roared and leaped forward.

"Confound it!" Vickery said, snatching at Pye's collar, though it probably wouldn't do any good - the animal was fast when roused. "Damn their eyes, what the devil do they think they're playing at?"

Pye had had the right idea, it was just a shame that some damn fool with a musket had put paid to the plan actually working.

Edward needed a moment longer, but then he turned on his heels, grabbed one rifleman by the collar and ordered:

"If this isn't Boney himself, then tell them to stop firing immediatly!"

Pye barely avoided at being trampled by the ox and scampered to his feet once the two had both gained enough distance between them. "He's frightened." Was something of an obvious statement.

He ducked around, knowing where he'd last found a fair amount of hay. He could 'borrow' some more, for when the ox was ready to calm. He was just a bit bruised though he did not quite remember if the ox hit him or not.

"You are very observant," Vickery said dryly. "Are you all right?" He was still feeling rather bruised himself, but could deal with that later on.

"Sir?.. Yes sir. Are you.. are you fine?" He studied Vickery, head to toe and he was not exactly ready for parade the way he looked at the moment. "Can we get him to the hay, sir? Then, when he's eatin' we'll tie him 'gain." It was quite like Pye to have a plan that involved food.

"That sounds like a good idea, Pye," Vickery said. "I think he went right over the top of me earlier. I am certain I am going to be black and blue by this time tomorrow, if I am not so already."

Edward came back, his brows furrowed.

"That should stop them for now. Keely, the butcher, was run over, too, and seems out of commission for the moment. Are you alright? The beast seems to have doubled back to his fellow bovines."

He had not much experience with cattle; but even he knew that an ox running in panic in a herd of other cattle might lead to a stampede. He only hoped that Pye's plan to calm the ox with food worked once more.

"I only hope that he does not cause them to stampede; one ox has caused quite enough damage as it is. I dread to think what havoc twenty such animals would cause," Vickery replied, with a frown of his own.

"We can't even shoot him now, for that would certainly set them off."

Edward considered the herd. The ox had disappeared somewhere among them, but could be spotted once in a while by his size and freer movements.

"So either we manage to get him out of there quietly, or we can tie him down there again. Hmmm. If they go off in a stampede, I guess it might be a good thing to have some fires or something between them and the camp; at least that way there's some chance they run towards the river."

"It would likely set them off anyway," Vickery said with a sigh. Fires... there was another good idea. Getting run over must have addled his wits more than he had thought, but he turned to instruct some of his men to begin building some fires between the herd and the camp. "Only do not be hasty or agitated in doing so, and do not make them any bigger than the usual cooking fires; there is no need to make them panic, after all."

"Let us hope it has a calming effect," he added privately to Torrington.

"Hopefully they are really too stupid to connect cooking fires with being eaten."

Edward sighed and spoke quietly to Vickery.

"So, whom do you want to go in? I'll volunteer, but I would guess that there are men here who know much more about calming cattle than I do."

"Well, I would go in myself, but I never had much to do with livestock. I think the best man for the job would probably be Cotton - although there are plenty of other men here who used to be farm-workers." He turned to call for Cotton, only to find the man behind him, in his shirtsleeves.

Cotton finished pulling off his jacket and thrust the balled-up garment at the nearest greenjacket, covering himself in confusion when he realised that he'd all but thrown it at Captain Vickery.

"Beg pardon, sir," he said, and looked at Pye. "If you get as much of that hay as you can, it'd help."

"A'right." Pye nodded. "Permission ter take hay from t' cavalry, if there's none to be found elsewhere, sir?" He inquired seriously. Of course, either officer's horses or the cavalry, had the best feed, had hay. That was the best place to find it and so he needed but a permission to get a greater amount now. Earlier, of course, they did not need to inquire where he had gotten it first.

"Yes," Vickery said shortly. He would square it with the cavalry's commanding officer later.

"Don't run, though - it's like to panic 'em more," Cotton added hastily, looking around for a sturdy length of rope he could fashion a head-rope from.

Pye nodded. He walked first. When he was near certain that he would not scare any of the animals or that they might not even notice him, he broke of into a run however.He should have asked for a couple of men to help him with the retrieval of the hay. An armful of hay would not do. He looked around when he first located the source that would be a good lure.

There, a blanket. It should have belonged to a cavalry trooper, who might have just gone to quench his curiosity by seeing what went on in the other camp. He did not dwell on where it came from but a blanket could have a certain greater amount of hay be dragged in it.

He really should have gone and taken his own. He began to collect the hay onto the fabric then when he could not fit any more, he took the corners and started to drag - this time much more slowly - his load towards where the ox has been 'left'.

"Good, that'll do it," Cotton said, finishing rolling his sleeves up. He had found a piece of rope by now, fashioned it into a rough bridle, draping it over his arm before helping himself to a double handful of the hay in the blanket, turning to head slowly towards the still-frenzied animal.

"All right, easy there, easy..."

The ox didn't seem to like anybody coming closer. He planted his feet and snorted, making quite an impressive show of protecting his herd. When another ox tried to inspect the offered hay, however, he was quickly and succinctly pushed aside.

The ox didn't seem quite ready yet to let Cotton come closer, but he didn't want to let anybody else get the treat either.

Cotton stopped, still holding out the hay towards the animal, who didn't seem inclined to come any nearer - or to let him get any closer. "Easy, there, ain't nobody goin' to hurt you," he said speaking calmly, soothingly. "It's just a bit o' bait, see, hay. Nothin' to get yourself riled up over."

The ox looked doubtful, then suddenly stomped his feet and grunted impressively. If the green two-feeter could just be made to take fright, drop the hay and go away ... preferably without the ox actually having to leave the safety of the herd.

"It's just a bit of hay, look," Cotton said encouragingly, still offering the double handful of hay. If the ox could just start eating, it would calm down - animals couldn't really kick up a hullabaloo when eating unless they were startled. And he hoped that the ox would calm down soon, before the rest of the herd went into a stampede across camp.

The ox extended his neck and cautiously nibbled a few straws. Another cow came close and the bull swivelled his head and herded her off, but afterwards he continued his meal with more certainty.