“How far before there is a cross-road into which you could turn your sheep?” went on Cora, fixing the man with what Jack said afterward was “a cold and fishy glance.”
“A matter of four mile, miss.”
“I thought so. Then we’d have to tag along behind you all that distance, losing time, and—”
“To say nothing of swallowing all that dust!” exclaimed Belle, pointing to a cloud of it that hung over the flock of sheep, which the dogs were skillfully herding. “Oh, it’s awful!”
“That’s why I’ve thought of a way out,” spoke Cora.
“Then out with it, Sis!” exclaimed the irrepressible Jack. Once more his sister turned her attention to him–this time it was only a look, but it sufficed.
“Do you see that field over there?” asked Cora of the sheep man, pointing to one rich and luxuriant in deep, green grass.
“Yes, miss, I see it,” and he pointed with the stem of his pipe to be sure he made no mistake.
“Yes. Well, now, could you take your sheep in there, and keep them–er–quiet–until we passed in our autos. You see it is impossible for us to get by on the road, for even if you did get the animals to one side one might leap out, under the wheels of a car and there would be an accident.”
“I see, miss. The sheep might be killed.”