I'm reminded of the summer of 1968 on the Cripple creek and victor. I was running the Porter 0-4-0st on a Saturday afternoon eastbound from Cripple Creek. After leaving the cut at Pisgah Junction and crossing the fill beyond it, I discovered about 2000 pounds of live hereford pot roast lying on the track ahead. I laid on Whistle and bell and pinched the speed down to a crawl. The bull raised his head up, looked at the Porter and put his head back down. I eased the Porter up to the bull's backside and bumped him with the front coupler. The bull slowly got to his feet and proceeded east right square in the middle of the track. I followed him for nearly a quarter-mile before he finally decided to let me have his railroad. No amount of whistle blowing or yelling at the bull by me or the passengers had any effect at all. Such is life on a high country railroad. -- Ed