s fear.

"Oh, dear! whatever shall we do?" she murmured. "The poor, poor little
thing."

"Guess we'll know pretty soon what we'll do," quoth Master Tom, standing
beside the machine and looking back along the road. "Here comes the man
that owns him."

"Oh, dear me!" whispered Helen. "Doesn't he look savage?"

"Worse than the old ram there," agreed her brother, for the black-faced
leader of the flock was eyeing them through the fence.

CHAPTER VI

A TRANSACTION IN MUTTON

The man who approached was a fierce, red-faced individual, with long
legs encased to the knees in cowhide boots, overalls, a checked shirt,
and a whisp of yellow whisker under his chin that parted and waved, as
he strode toward the auto party.

His pale blue eyes were ablaze, and he had worked himself up into a
towering rage. Like many farmers (and sometimes for cause), he had
evidently sworn eternal feud against all automobilists!

"What d'ye mean, runnin' inter my sheep?" he bawled. "I'll have the law
on ye! I'll make ye pay for ev'ry sheep ye killed! I'll attach yer
machine, by glory! I'll put ye all in jail! I'll----"

"You're going to have your hands full with all _that_, Mister,"
interrupted Tom Cameron. "And you're excited more than is necessary.
I'll pay for all the damage I've done--although there would have been
none at all, had your sheep remained in their pasture. This is a county
road, I take it."

"By glory!" exclaimed the farmer, arriving at the spot at last. "This
road was built for folks ter drive over decent. Nobody reckoned on
locomotives, an' sich comin' this way, when 'twas built--no, sir-ree!"

"I'm sorry," began Tom, but the man broke in:

"Thet don't pay me none for havin' all my sheep made into mutton b'fore
their time. By glory! I got an attic home full o' 'sorries.' Ye can't
git out o' it thet way."

"I am not trying to. I'll pay for any sheep I have hurt or killed," Tom
said, unable to keep from grinning at the excited farmer.

"And don't ye git sassy none, neither!" commanded the man. "I'm one o'
the school trustees in this deestrict, an' the church clerk. I got some
influence. I guess if I arrested ye right naow--an' these gals, too--the
jestice of the peace would consider I done jest right."

"Oh!" murmured Helen, clinging to Ruth's hand.

"He can't do it," whispered the latter.

"I feel sure, sir," said Tom, politely, "that it will be unnecessary for
you to go to such lengths. I will pay sati