lly intended to sell
the sheep; he had not thought that the man would pay that price for
them, because it was now only the beginning of winter, and the sheep
would have to be fed at the barn for nearly six months.

But to the old Squire's surprise Mr. Morey, with as little ado as if he
were buying a pair of shoes, said, "Very well. I will take them."

Drawing out his pocketbook, he handed the old Squire ten new
fifty-dollar bills and asked whether we could conveniently drive the
sheep over to his farm on the following day. In fact, before the old
Squire had more than counted the money, Mr. Morey had said good-day and
had driven off.

Just what grandmother Ruth said when the old gentleman went in to put
the bills away in his desk, we boys never knew; but for a long time
thereafter the sale of the sheep was a sore subject at the old farm.

The transaction was not yet complete, however, for we still had to
deliver the sheep to their new owner. At six o'clock the following
morning Halstead, Addison and I set out to drive them to Lovell. The old
Squire had been up since three o'clock, feeding the flock with hay and
provender for the drive; he told us that he would follow later in the
day with a team to bring us home after our long walk. The girls put us
up luncheons in little packages, which we stowed in our pockets.

It was still dark when we started. The previous day had been clear, but
the sky had clouded during the night. It was raw and chilly, with a feel
of snow in the air. The sheep felt it; they were sluggish and unwilling
to leave the barn. Finally, however, we got them down the lane and out
on the hard-frozen highway; Halstead ran ahead, shaking the salt dish;
Addison and I, following after, hustled the laggards along.

The leader of our flock was a large brock-faced ewe called Old Peg. She
was known to be at least eleven years old, which is a venerable age for
a sheep. She raised twin lambs every spring and was, indeed, a kind of
flock mother, for many of the sheep were either her children or her
grandchildren. Wherever the flock went, she took the lead and set the
pace.

So long as we kept Old Peg following Halstead and the salt dish, the
rest of the sheep scampered after, and we got on well.

We had gone scarcely more than a mile when, owing to a too hasty
breakfast, or the morning chill, Halstead was taken with cramps. He was
never a very strong boy and had always been subject to such ailments. We
had