off
with a bound and drove the sheep at full speed towards the furze. As they
came up, with fleeces shaking and a patter of little feet, the man ran to
the length of the string and waved his stick.

"Away back! Gan away back! T'ither slap, ye fule!"

People laughed when the dog in desperate haste stopped the sheep as they
packed outside a hole, but it drove them to the next gap, through which
they streamed.

"Forrad! Gan forrad!" cried the farmer. "Head them, Merry Lad!"

The dog turned the sheep and brought them back through another opening,
after which they raced towards the hurdles, and the collie hesitated as
if puzzled by its master's shouts. The sheep were near the end of the
rails, but it was not the end the card indicated. Then the dog seemed to
understand what was required, and circling round the flock with swift,
graceful leaps, drove them along the hurdles and round the other end.

There was some applause from the crowd and afterwards good-humored
banter when the dog ran backwards and forwards at a loss. The animal
obviously knew the flock must be taken round the remaining obstacles, but
had only its master's shouts for guide to the order in which they must be
passed. Sometimes the farmer got angry and sometimes laughed, but except
for a mistake or two the collie drove the sheep in and out among the
barriers as the card required and put them in the pen.

Two or three more trials took place, and for the most part, the
unoccupied dogs strained at their leads and whimpered, but old Bob sat at
Kit's feet, watching, with his head on one side.

"One can see he's thinking; I believe he wants to remember the right way
round," Grace remarked, and smiled when a steward beckoned Kit. "It's
your turn," she said. "I wish you good luck!"

Kit went off with his heart beating and felt half amused by his keenness
when the steward tied the string to his leg. After his adventures on the
Caribbean and the stakes he and Adam had played for, it was strange he
should be eager to win a box of plated forks at a rustic show. Yet, he
was eager; Grace had wished him luck.

"Number four; Mr. Askew's Old Bob!" the steward announced.

Kit called, and Bob, trotting away deliberately, got the sheep together
and drove them correctly through the holes. He was doing well, in one
sense, and Kit knew he would make few mistakes, but time counted and old
Bob was slow. He had trouble at the hurdles, where the sheep seemed
resolved to go t