iver, I must be off and see the band dinna get
ower much to drink."

Drysdale went away and soon afterwards a strange procession headed by the
band and guarded by children, entered the field. A row of geese, waddling
solemnly in single file, came first, and then turkeys stalked among their
broods; a boy led a handsome goat and long-legged calf, and in the rear
straggled a flock of sheep. When all were driven into pens the sale began
and the crowd laughed and bantered the men who bid. In the meantime, Kit
examined the sheep. Some had faults and the ram had obviously suffered
from its accident. It was clear, though, that it sprang from a famous
stock, and Kit knew an animal transmits to its offspring inherited
qualities and not acquired defects. He recognized the stamp of breeding
and resolved to buy the sheep. The ram was worth much more than he
imagined the shepherds thought.

He went back to the stand and by and by the auctioneer praised the flock.
When he stopped, there was silence for a few moments until Osborn nodded.

"A cautious beginning often makes a good ending, but we've a long way to
go yet," the auctioneer remarked. "Who'll say five pounds more?"

Thorn made a sign, and the auctioneer raised his hammer. "We've got a
start, but you must keep it up. The opportunity's what folks call
unique; you'll save money by buying, and help a good cause. Don't
know which will appeal to you, but you can pay your money, and take
your choice."

He looked about while the crowd laughed, and after two or three
flockmasters advanced the price, caught Kit's eye. "Mr. Askew's a judge
of sheep. We'll call it ten pounds rise!"

Kit nodded, and Osborn glanced at Thorn, who shrugged. The latter had
helped to start the bidding, which was all he meant to do, and Osborn
would have tried to draw out after making another offer, had he not seen
Kit. He did not want the sheep, although he was willing to buy them at
something above their proper price. Now, however, Askew was his
antagonist, the fellow must be beaten.

"We must finish the sale before the driving-matches," he said. "Go up
twenty pounds."

"They'd not sell near it if you sent them to the market," a farmer
remarked.

"Do you sell pedigree stock to butchers? The ram's worth the money," the
auctioneer rejoined.

On the whole, Kit agreed, although he saw that others did not. Moreover
he was willing to run some risk by helping Drysdale, whom he liked, and
he signed to the