and
dog, like one divided.

Through the gap, along the hill parallel to the spectators, playing into
one another's hands like men at polo.

A wide sweep for the turn at the flags, and the sheep wheeled as though
at the word of command, dropped through them, and travelled rapidly for
the bridge.

"Steady!" whispered the crowd.

"Steady, man!" muttered Parson Leggy.

"Hold 'em, for God's sake!" croaked Kirby huskily. "D--n! I knew it! I
saw it coming!"

The pace down the hill had grown quicker--too quick. Close on the bridge
the three sheep made an effort to break. A dash--and two were checked;
but the third went away like the wind, and after him Owd Bob, a gray
streak against the green.

Tammas was cursing silently; Kirby was white to the lips; and in the
stillness you could plainly hear the Dalesmen's sobbing breath, as it
fluttered in their throats.

"Gallop! they say he's old and slow!" muttered the Parson. "Dash! Look
at that!" For the gray dog, racing like the Nor'easter over the sea, had
already retrieved the fugitive.

Man and dog were coaxing the three a step at a time toward the bridge.

One ventured--the others followed.

In the middle the leader stopped and tried to turn--and time was flying,
flying, and the penning alone must take minutes. Many a man's hand was
at his watch, but no one could take his eyes off the group below him to
look.

"We're beat! I've won bet, Tammas!" groaned Sam'l. (The two had a
long-standing wager on the matter.) "I allus knoo hoo 'twould be. I
allus told yo' th' owd tyke--"

Then breaking into a bellow, his honest face crimson with enthusiasm:
"Coom on, Master! Good for yo', Owd Un! Yon's the style!"

For the gray dog had leapt on the back of the hindmost sheep; it had
surged forward against the next, and they were over, and making up the
slope amidst a thunder of applause.

At the pen it was a sight to see shepherd and dog working together.
The Master, his face stern and a little whiter than its wont, casting
forward with both hands, herding the sheep in; the gray dog, his eyes
big and bright, dropping to hand; crawling and creeping, closer and
closer.

"They're in!--Nay--Ay--dang me! Stop 'er! Good, Owd Un! Ah-h-h, they're
in!" And the last sheep reluctantly passed through--on the stroke of
time.

A roar went up from the crowd; Maggie's white face turned pink; and
the Dalesmen mopped their wet brows. The mob surged forward, but the
stewards held them back.