A very strange sensation, partly fear, stole over me, as we stood there looking down upon the torn remains of the sheep and lamb. The place was far off in the woods and the surroundings were wild and somber. There was something uncanny, too, in the way those crows rose up and went flapping away. In less degree, I think Ned experienced similar sensations, for he stood without speaking for a moment, then said, "O it may have been done by a dog, or maybe she died.
"Let's climb down and see what we can see," he continued.
"We can see that the sheep is dead from up here," I replied, for I did not like the idea of going down there very well.
"Come along," said Ned, laughing. "You needn't be afraid."
"I'm not afraid," said I. "But it is a kind of lonesome looking place."
"Yes, 'tis," replied Ned, stopping for a little to look again. "But let's go down and see. They'll ask us all about it, and we've got to find out what we can."
He walked along the top of the ledge, and, coming to a place where we could descend between some large split rocks, began to climb down. I followed after him, a little in the rear. Ned had got down among the small spruces, at the foot of the crag, when he suddenly called back to me that one of the lambs was there. "Poor little chap, he's hid here, under the brush," he continued; and on getting down, I saw the lamb standing far under the thick, dark boughs.
"I never saw a lamb hide in that way before," said Ned. "He's been awful scared by something."
We crept around and tried to catch the lamb; it ran along the foot of the rocks among the evergreens, but did not bleat, nor behave at all as lambs generally do.
"He's got blood on his side there," remarked Ned. "But he may have got that off the old sheep."