For a few seconds all was quiet, with the exception of a number of bleating lambs in the rear, and just as the ram was once more elevating his head to scent the air, Mr. Brown fired. A fine fat ewe sprang into the air, and then rolled over and over in the agonies of death.
"A good shot!" cried Mr. Brown, but hardly were the words from his mouth when there was a rushing sound, and before I could interfere, or raise my voice in warning, the old patriarch had charged past me. My comrade saw his danger, but disdained to use his revolver in such a quarrel, or even to fly. He probably thought that he could seize the ram by his horns, and arrest his career without a violent effort, but if such were his intentions he was bitterly disappointed, for the old patriarch possessed the strength and power of a dozen ordinary sheep, and possibly had battled with many bushrangers for the preservation of his flock from decimation.
On rushed the ram with the speed of a race horse. He passed me without notice, his eyes glowing like coals of fire, and every muscle in his neck stretched for the encounter. His wives did not offer to fly, but stood watching the result of the old fellow's charge, evidently quite confident of the ultimate result.
When the ram was within three feet of my companion, he thought that it was about time to make good his retreat, seeing that his opponent was disposed to be in earnest.
Mr. Brown started back suddenly, and then turned to dodge behind a tree where he could have laughed his enemy to scorn. But unfortunately he was too late in making up his mind, and just as he turned, the ram struck him upon that portion of his body which presents the broadest basis, and in a twinkling over went my friend, as though shot from a mortar.
I could not, for the life of me, help laughing at the sight, and yet I was not disposed to interfere between them. It was a fair fight, and I wanted to see it out.
I will give the ram the credit of acting in a fair and manly manner, for after he had floored his opponent, he stood perfectly still until Mr. Brown began to scramble up, and after he had gained his knees, the old fellow evidently labored under the impression that more work was cut for him. With a fierce stamp the ram retreated a few feet, and then rushed on like lightning. Mr. Brown was thrown headlong to the ground, and then he began to look upon the contest as one not to be despised. I heard the click of his revolver, and I knew that his thoughts were deadly, but I resolved to save the life of so gallant an opponent.
"Don't fire," I shouted; "it is a pity to kill the old fellow for defending his wives. How would you like it?"
"Call him off then, or d—— his long horns, I'll blow a hole through him large enough to take in a pack saddle," cried Mr. Brown, still maintaining his recumbent attitude, as though no longer desirous of provoking a battle.
The task was not difficult. Indeed the ram had grown so inflated with victory that he was ready to pitch into every thing living, and I had only to show myself and manifest a hostile attitude to accomplish my purpose. The very first motion that I made with my head attracted his attention. He turned from a fallen foe with disdain, and braced himself for a new conflict. I made a second motion with my head suggestive of butting, and on he came, but I was prepared for him. Springing nimbly aside, I let him strike the hard pack saddle with all his force, and the result did not disappoint me. The saddle yielded, and over and over went the ram, until he picked himself up about two rods from the spot where I stood awaiting a renewal of the attack with much patience.