“I do believe,” thought Cadmus, “that this may be the cow that was foretold me.  If it be the one, I suppose she will lie down somewhere hereabouts.”

Whether it were the oracular cow or some other one, it did not seem reasonable that she should travel a great way farther.  So, whenever they reached a particularly pleasant spot on a breezy hillside, or in a sheltered vale, or flowery meadow, on the shore of a calm lake, or along the bank of a clear stream, Cadmus looked eagerly around to see if the situation would suit him for a home.  But still, whether he liked the place or no, the brindled cow never offered to lie down.  On she went at the quiet pace of a cow going homeward to the barnyard; and, every moment Cadmus expected to see a milkmaid approaching with a pail, or a herdsman running to head the stray animal, and turn her back toward the pasture.  But no milkmaid came; no herdsman drove her back; and Cadmus followed the stray brindle till he was almost ready to drop down with fatigue.

“O brindled cow,” cried he, in a tone of despair, “do you never mean to stop?”

He had now grown too intent on following her to think of lagging behind, however long the way, and whatever might be his fatigue.  Indeed, it seemed as if there were something about the animal that bewitched people.  Several persons who happened to see the brindled cow, and Cadmus following behind, began to trudge after her, precisely as he did.  Cadmus was glad of somebody to converse with, and therefore talked very freely to these good people.  He told them all his adventures, and how he had left King Agenor in his palace, and Phoenix at one place, and Cilix at another, and Thasus at a third, and his dear mother, Queen Telephassa, under a flowery sod; so that now he was quite alone, both friendless and homeless.  He mentioned, likewise, that the oracle had bidden him be guided by a cow, and inquired of the strangers whether they supposed that this brindled animal could be the one.

“Why, ’tis a very wonderful affair,” answered one of his new companions.  “I am pretty well acquainted with the ways of cattle, and I never knew a cow, of her own accord, to go so far without stopping.  If my legs will let me, I’ll never leave following the beast till she lies down.”

“Nor I!” said a second.

“Nor I!” cried a third.  “If she goes a hundred miles farther, I’m determined to see the end of it.”

The secret of it was, you must know, that the cow was an enchanted cow, and that, without their being conscious of it, she threw some of her enchantment over everybody that took so much as half a dozen steps behind her.  They could not possibly help following her, though, all the time, they fancied themselves doing it of their own accord.  The cow was by no means very nice in choosing her path; so that sometimes they had to scramble over rocks, or wade through mud and mire, and were all in a terribly bedraggled condition, and tired to death, and very hungry, into the bargain.  What a weary business it was!