Inside they found a queer household waiting for them. At the table sat a beautiful young girl; before the fire was a large gray cat; while lying at one side of the fireplace was a big sheep with a fleece of long, shaggy wool.
The old man went into the kitchen of the house and prepared a splendid meal, which he placed before the heroes. All ate heartily, but, as usual, Conan was still eating after all the others had finished.
He was interrupted by the sheep, which climbed to the table and commenced eating of the food that was left. Conan pushed the animal’s nose out of the food time and time again and tried to go on with his eating. It was of no use. Before he could get a bite, the old sheep would thrust its nose into the plate.
“I call it a strange house where a sheep is allowed to eat from the table,” declared Conan.
“I did not put him there,” answered the old man. “If you do not like his company, put him off.”
Conan grasped the sheep in his two arms, intending to lift it from the table. To his surprise he could not move it. He tugged and strained without avail. At last the sheep, with a quick toss of his head, threw Conan into the center of the room.
How the other men roared with laughter! It was always amusing to see Conan get the worst of anything. As for Conan, he picked himself up sulkily.
“You laugh loudly,” he growled. “I’ll wager there is not one of you who can move it.”
The idea was ridiculous. To think of anyone claiming to be a hero and unable to lift an ordinary sheep! Oscar, with a laugh, started to brush the animal away with one hand. Soon he had the sheep in both arms and was tugging and straining in an attempt to move it. Then he, too, found himself thrown lightly away from the table.
Now it ceased to be a joke. Dermot tried to remove the animal with no better success. Gaul, it is true, got the sheep off the table for a moment, but the animal soon turned this hero on his back and stood upon him. Then it jumped back to the table.