Drysdale grinned. "Some big stanes fell on t' ram when Mayson was Bringing flock doon Barra ghyll. He looks a bit the waur o' it, but you can tell the Carlside blood."
"I'll see what I think about the animal," Kit said with a laugh. "Do you expect a good sale? The rich people, as a rule, go to church."
"They'll bid aw t' same. When you canna stir their generosity, you can try their pride. If you look at it one way, the thing's humorsome. They dinna want to help me, but they will."
"It's possible," Kit agreed. "I don't know if the plan's above suspicion, but you need the money."
"It will be weel spent. Hooiver, I must be off and see the band dinna get ower much to drink."
Drysdale went away and soon afterwards a strange procession headed by the band and guarded by children, entered the field. A row of geese, waddling solemnly in single file, came first, and then turkeys stalked among their broods; a boy led a handsome goat and long-legged calf, and in the rear straggled a flock of sheep. When all were driven into pens the sale began and the crowd laughed and bantered the men who bid. In the meantime, Kit examined the sheep. Some had faults and the ram had obviously suffered from its accident. It was clear, though, that it sprang from a famous stock, and Kit knew an animal transmits to its offspring inherited qualities and not acquired defects. He recognized the stamp of breeding and resolved to buy the sheep. The ram was worth much more than he imagined the shepherds thought.
He went back to the stand and by and by the auctioneer praised the flock.
When he stopped, there was silence for a few moments until Osborn nodded.
"A cautious beginning often makes a good ending, but we've a long way to go yet," the auctioneer remarked. "Who'll say five pounds more?"
Thorn made a sign, and the auctioneer raised his hammer. "We've got a start, but you must keep it up. The opportunity's what folks call unique; you'll save money by buying, and help a good cause. Don't know which will appeal to you, but you can pay your money, and take your choice."
He looked about while the crowd laughed, and after two or three flockmasters advanced the price, caught Kit's eye. "Mr. Askew's a judge of sheep. We'll call it ten pounds rise!"