‘Yes, sir. It’s a bit late, though,’ replied the landlord. ‘Roads terrible heavy after the rain. I had the ram untied an’ put in the stable, an’ gave him some green stuff.’
[109]
]‘That’s right, Edwards,’ said the squatter. ‘How does he look after the trip—pretty well?’
The other hesitated before answering,—
‘Why, yes, sir; he seems hearty enough. But I’m no judge of sheep.’
‘S’pose ye wouldna care about givin’ 700 guineas for him, eh, Edwards?’ chuckled M‘Pherson.
‘No, sir,’ replied the landlord with emphasis, ‘I’m damned if I would.’
‘Ha, ha!’ laughed the other, as he drove into the yard, ‘and yet, mon, I wouldna swap him for the auld “Woolpack.” Come,’ he added impatiently, ‘unlock the door an’ let us hae a look at His Grace.’
By this time there was quite a crowd on the scene. A couple of stock and station agents, a bank manager, the P.M., some drovers, everybody, in fact, who thought they knew a sheep from a goat, had assembled to have a look at ‘the big ram.’
‘Keep awa’ frae the door,’ quoth M‘Pherson. ‘Ye’ll all be able to hae a good sight o’ him presently. Let him come right out into the yaird, Edwards.’
As he finished, up the lane of spectators stalked a nondescript kind of animal, at which M‘Pherson just glanced, and then sang out to Edwards, appearing in the doorway,—