her. And as the
stream would form one side of the corral he believed that they could
easily be forced into the water.

In a few hours the inclosure was completed, and the silly animals were
driven in and rammed hard against the brink of the ford. Then the Don,
forcing a way through the compacted mass, pitched a few of the terrified
unfortunates into the stream by main strength; but instead of crossing
over, they swam about close to the bank, making desperate attempts to
get back into the flock. Then a dozen or more were shoved off, and the
Don, tall like a crane and a good natural wader, jumped in after them,
seized a struggling wether, and dragged it to the opposite shore. But no
sooner did he let it go than it jumped into the stream and swam back to
its frightened companions in the corral, thus manifesting sheep-nature
as unchangeable as gravitation. Pan with his pipes would have had no
better luck, I fear. We were now pretty well baffled. The silly
creatures would suffer any sort of death rather than cross that stream.
Calling a council, the dripping Don declared that starvation was now the
only likely scheme to try, and that we might as well camp here in
comfort and let the besieged flock grow hungry and cool, and come to
their senses, if they had any. In a few minutes after being thus let
alone, an adventurer in the foremost rank plunged in and swam bravely to
the farther shore. Then suddenly all rushed in pell-mell together,
trampling one another under water, while we vainly tried to hold them
back. The Don jumped into the thickest of the gasping, gurgling,
drowning mass, and shoved them right and left as if each sheep was a
piece of floating timber. The current also served to drift them apart; a
long bent column was soon formed, and in a few minutes all were over and
began baaing and feeding as if nothing out of the common had happened.
That none were drowned seems wonderful. I fully expected that hundreds
would gain the romantic fate of being swept into Yosemite over the
highest waterfall in the world.

As the day was far spent, we camped a little way back from the ford, and
let the dripping flock scatter and feed until sundown. The wool is dry
now, and calm, cud-chewing peace has fallen on all the comfortable band,
leaving no trace of the watery battle. I have seen fish driven out of
the water with less ado than was made in driving these animals into it.
Sheep brain must surely be poor stuff. Compare today's e