"I could throw stones at the ram," said Russ.
"So could I," added his brother. "Let's go do it!"
"No. You do as grandma told you, and get on the other side of the fence," said his mother. "Grandma Bell can take care of the ram."
The ram, which had big, curving horns, walked toward Margy, now and then stopping to stamp his foot or give a loud:
"Baa-a-a-a!"
"What's he saying?" asked Vi.
"Never mind what he's saying," said Mrs. Bunker. "Run! Don't stop to ask questions."
"I guess the ram's saying he doesn't like red coats," put in Russ.
They were soon at the fence and out of any danger from the ram. Grandma Bell was now close to Margy, who had stopped picking flowers, and was looking at the animal with his shaggy coat of wool and his big, curved horns.
"Come to me, Margy!" cried her grandmother, and Margy ran, and was soon clasped in Mrs. Bell's arms.