“Yes, and we’d be wrecked,” growled Jack. “What’s the game, Sis? If we stay here much longer that dinner will be eaten by some one else.”
“Be quiet Jack–please! Now could you not drive your sheep into the field?” she asked. “Then we could get past. Of course we might turn around and go back to some other road, but it would delay us. Could you?”
Certainly no mere man could withstand the appealing glance thrown at this humble sheep herder. He capitulated.
“I guess I could do it, miss. But what if the man who owns this field was to see me? You see I’m a stranger in these parts–I’m only hired to drive these sheep to the man that bought them.”
“I see. Well, if we gave you a dollar or so, you could give it to the man who owns that pasture in case he made objection. It would be worth two dollars to get past.”
“More,” Jack framed with his lips, but he did not speak aloud, being a careful and frugal youth.
“The sheep could not eat much grass in the short time you drove them into the field, kept them there until we got past, and then let ’em out again; could they?” she asked, with a winning smile.
“No, miss, I guess I can do it. Sheep is queer. They is easily frightened, and maybe it would be the best way. Why, only last night, when I had turned ’em into a pasture they near ran off on me.”
“Why?” asked Jack, rather idly.
“Well, you see it was this way. I had ’em all settled for the night, a matter of several miles back, when a woman came running along the road. She was takin’ on somethin’ bad, cryin’ like, and mutterin’ ‘Kin I ever find her? Kin I ever find her?’ You see—”