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That steer was Destiny. No criminal ever watched the face of his judge with more desperate interest than I watched the dish-face of that muley. I was now at the very middle of the river, and the turn must be made against the current. Would the steer follow me, or would he take the natural line of least resistance into the swinging water of the eddy?
He was, generally, short, square, and thick the latitude bearing a better proportion to the longitude than in his lank brother but never approaching anything like roundness. With this attractive figure, he had a complexion of decidedly bilious darkness, and what is commonly called a "dish-face."
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