down the road.

"I wonder where we are taking the sheep," thought Bobby.

About ten o'clock, they came to a creek with a bridge over it. Across
the bridge they drove the sheep. On the other side, Hobson stopped them
and drove them to one side of the road. Farmer Hill tied Prince to the
fence.

"Can you guess what we came for?" he asked.

Bobby looked all around. John and Hobson and Rover were driving the
sheep into a pen at the edge of the creek. The pen was surrounded by a
fence of rails, with a gate near the water.

Then the men put on the old clothes which they had brought in the
buggy, and went into the pen among the sheep.

Bobby looked puzzled.

"Let's take the bell wether first," said Mr. Hill; and John grabbed the
old sheep in spite of his ugly-looking horns.

They took him through the gate and started to pull him toward the water.

"Oh, Father, I know," shouted Bobby. "You are going to wash the sheep."

When Bobby found that he had guessed right, he danced for joy. Then he
settled down to see how it would be done.

Old Bell Wether was the largest sheep in the flock and had long, curved
horns. He had been washed every year of his life, but he never liked to
be dragged into the water. Now he held back with all the strength of his
four stout legs.

John was in front, trying to pull him along. Farmer Hill and Hobson were
behind, trying to push him along.

Suddenly, Old Bell Wether changed his mind. He lowered his head and
rushed forward, striking John a tremendous blow.

Into the water went John. Bobby could not see a bit of him.

Into the water, too, went Old Bell Wether. But his head was above water
and was moving out into the creek.

Bobby could not move or speak. He feared that big brother John would be
drowned.

Then he saw John rising out of the water and Father helping him back to
land.

"Old Bell Wether played us a sharp trick," said Mr. Hill.

"Oh, Father," shouted Bobby, "he is almost across the creek. He'll
surely get away."

Farmer Hill was watching the pair of horns.

"We'll get him," said he.

He started toward the bridge, catching up a rope as he went. Hobson
followed.

Before they could run across the bridge, Old Bell Wether walked up out
of the creek and started toward home. But he was tired after his swim,
and his wool was heavy with water.

They soon overtook him and drove him into a corner of the rail fence at
the side of the road.

"Now we have you," said Farm