intention.
He refused to stir: nay, more, he dropped himself solidly to the earth
with an ear-splitting howl, and grabbed tight hold of Pocahontas's
dress with both grimy paws; the sheep, meanwhile, came hurrying up at a
sharp trot, pushing against each other in their haste, and bleating in
glad anticipation of a treat. Some of the boldest ventured near enough
to sniff the girl's dress, gazing up at her expectantly, with their
soft, pretty eyes; a proceeding which evoked redoubled yells from
Sawney. They were perfectly harmless; even the rams were peaceful,
which made the child's conduct the more provoking. In vain Pocahontas
coaxed, threatened and commanded, in vain she assured him solemnly that
the sheep would not hurt him, and acrimoniously that if he did not hush
instantly and get up, she would leave him alone for the sheep to eat
up. Sawney would not stir. The more she talked the louder he howled
and the more obstinately he clung to her dress. Then she took off her
hat and waved it at the animals who sprang aside, startled at first,
but returned in closer ranks with more insistent bleating. Losing
patience at last, Pocahontas stooped and caught the boy by his
shoulders and shook him soundly. She was about to proceed to more
violent measures when a voice at her elbow said quietly:

"Perhaps I can be of service to you."

She started, and glanced round quickly. A slender, dark, young man, a
stranger, was standing beside her, glancing, with unconcealed
amusement, from her flushed, irate countenance to the sulky, streaming
visage at her feet.

"Oh, thank you; you can indeed," accepting his proffered aid with
grateful readiness. "If you will kindly drive these sheep away, I'll
be much indebted to you. This provoking little boy is afraid of them,
or pretends to be, and I can't induce him to stir. Now, Sawney, hush
that abominable noise this instant! The gentleman is going to drive
all the sheep away."

With perfect gravity, but his eyes full of laughter, Nesbit Thorne
flourished his cane and advanced on the flock menacingly. The animals
backed slowly. "Will that do?" he called, when he had driven them
about a hundred yards.

"A little further, please," she answered. "No, a great deal further;
quite to the end of the field. He won't move yet!" Her voice quivered
with suppressed mirth.

Feeling like "Little Boy Blue" recalled to a sense of duty, Thorne
pursued the sheep remorselessly; the poor beas