As soon as Snowball learned all this he took great pains to land upon the ledge as heavily as he could. He liked to hear Uncle Jerry Chuck's teeth chatter; he liked to see Uncle Jerry shiver; he liked the sound of Uncle Jerry's squeaky voice asking what was the matter.
So Snowball enjoyed his days in the pasture—or in and out of it. In fact he enjoyed them more than anybody else in the flock. For the others began to grow tired of being led helter-skelter in a headlong flight. And the old folks especially became annoyed because Snowball took them so often over the stone wall.
At last the old dame known as "Aunt Nancy," all hung with great folds of thick fleece, spoke her mind plainly to Snowball himself.
"You're making a nuisance of yourself," she told him. "In all my days I never knew another youngster—a mere lamb!—to lead the flock. And here you're making us run our legs off every day! When I was your age we children never started a game of Follow My Leader. We followed behind the rest of the flock. We never led."
All this was a great surprise for Snowball. "D-don't you like the game?" he stammered.
"The game's all right," the old lady said. "But nobody cares to play it a dozen times a day. And nobody enjoys having to clamber over the stone wall again and again."
Snowball said nothing for a few minutes. He was thinking.
"When I run, why do you follow me if you don't wish to?" he inquired at last.
"I don't know," the old lady confessed. "Maybe I fell into the habit of following when I was young. Anyhow, I can't help myself now. I just have to go along with the others."