“Never saw them till the dog pinned them.”
“You never saw them,” said George reproachfully. “No, nor your dog either till my Carlo opened your eyes. A pretty thing for a shepherd and his dog to be taught by a pointer. Well,” said George, “you had eyes enough to see whose sheep they were. Tell me that, if you please?”
Abner looked down.
“Why, Abner?”
“I'd as lieve bite off my tongue as tell you.”
George looked uneasy and his face fell.
“A 'V.' Don't ye take on,” said Abner. “They couldn't have been ten minutes among ours, and there were but two. And don't you blow me up, for such a thing might happen to the carefulest shepherd that ever was.”
“I won't blow ye up, Will Abner,” said George. “It is my luck not yours that has done this. It was always so. From a game of cricket upward I never had my neighbor's luck. If the flock are not tainted I'll give you five pounds, and my purse is not so deep as some. If they are, take your knife and drive it into my heart. I'll forgive you that as I do this. Carlo! let me look at you. See here, he is all over some stinking ointment. It is off those sheep. I knew it. 'Twasn't likely a pointer dog would be down on strange sheep like a shepherd's dog by the sight. 'Twas this stuff offended him. Heaven's will be done.”
“Let us hope the best, and not meet trouble half way.”
“Yes” said George feebly. “Let us hope the best.”