ver yet."

The men brought out one of the smaller sheep through the gate, and
tipped her over on her side, on the smooth boards. Mr. Price, bending
over the sheep, began shearing off the wool close to the skin.

After he had sheared the wool from the upper side, he turned the sheep
over and sheared the other side.

Bobby was watching with all his eyes.

When he had finished and the fleece lay flat on the platform, very white
and clean, Mr. Price let the sheep get up and run out in the barn-yard.

"Ba-a-a--, Ba-a-a!" went the sheep, as she ran out, looking very small
and feeling very strange with her heavy coat of wool gone.

Farmer Hill gathered up the wool and carried it to another part of the
basement, while John and Mr. Price brought out the next sheep.

When Mr. Price had sheared four sheep, he said, "You might as well bring
the big wether next."

"You must lose your wool, Mr. Bell Wether," said Bobby. "We need it to
make our clothes."

"I think John had better help you hold him down," said Farmer Hill. "He
is a cantankerous old fellow."

So John helped hold him, while Mr. Price sheared him.

Old Bell Wether was a wise old sheep. He knew he could not get away from
two men. Besides, he was not sorry to lose the heavy coat which made him
so warm in the hot Spring days.

Perhaps he knew that when a sheep squirms and kicks, the shearer may cut
off a bit of the skin instead of just taking the wool.

At any rate, he lay very quiet until he was all sheared, and they let
him run out into the yard.

"Oh, Father, Old Bell Wether didn't make a single bunt," shouted Bobby,
bounding off to the place where Mr. Hill was taking care of the fleeces.

"Just see what I am doing," said Father.

Farmer Hill had a queer-looking thing made of boards joined together
with hinges. It looked flat when he laid a fleece of wool on it. Then he
folded it up until it looked like a box, and the wool was pressed
together inside of it.

There were pieces of strong wool twine in grooves on the inside of the
box. He tied them around the fleece so as to hold it firmly together.

At last he opened the box and out came a solid fleece of wool, in the
shape of a cube about eighteen inches on each side.

"Oh, let me feel of it," said Bobby. He pressed his hands and face
against the soft white wool.

"How much do you guess it weighs?" asked Mr. Hill, as he put it on the
scales.

"Fifty pounds," said Bobby.

"Too much. Eight and a h