"Give us some coon songs, Dad," asked Herb, and instantly there was a clamor from all directions.
"No—I don't do that any more," objected Mr. Phipps, but his misgivings were overruled when Herb appeared with a banjo and guitar.
"Come on, let's give 'em 'Drag the Chariot,'" coaxed his son, strumming on the guitar.
The boys, with Hawke, had gathered around the rancher and Herb expectantly.
"What's this yuh got me into, yuh young scalawag," exclaimed Mr. Phipps, with mock anger, but he took the banjo and struck up a lively tune.
One song was followed by another, until the whole bunch of boys, unable to sit still under the enchanting strains, had risen to their feet and were performing jigs of one style or another. It was soon noticed that Fred had some skill in this direction, and he was urged to jig "Turkey in the Straw," and numerous other dances, until he sank down panting for breath.
In the midst of their festivities there was a series of sharp barks in the direction of the corral, and then a regular din of neighs from the horses, violent barking from the dogs, and an occasional bleat.
Mr. Phipps threw his banjo aside and quickly ran down the steps in the direction of the corral. The others followed him. They found the horses greatly excited, running pell-mell around the enclosure, almost pushing each other over, and some of them trying to climb up on the fence. The dogs were baying, and running about in a confused fashion. Three sheep had apparently strayed from the herd and were standing by the side of the corral.
"It's that confounded thing again," exclaimed Mr. Phipps, calling to the horses to quiet them, while Herb went inside and endeavored to calm them. After a time the dogs, remembering their offices, got after the sheep and drove them back to the fold.
"Doesn't look as though there's any damage done, but you'd better get Mike to go down and look over the sheep."