could walk away from her
easily. She has no pace and no wind. But Lady is a deer-hound. She is
used to pursuing that fleet and antlered pride of the forest--the
stag--and she can go like billyo. She was now far away in a distant
region of the paddock, with a fat sheep just before her in full flight.
I am sure if ever anybody's eyes did start out of their heads with
horror, like in narratives of adventure, ours did then.

There was a moment's pause of speechless horror. We expected to see Lady
pull down her quarry, and we know what a lot of money a sheep costs, to
say nothing of its own personal feelings.

Then we started to run for all we were worth. It is hard to run swiftly
as the arrow from the bow when you happen to be wearing pyjamas
belonging to a grown-up person--as I was--but even so I beat Dicky. He
said afterwards it was because his brown paper boots came undone and
tripped him up. Alice came in third. She held on the dressing-table
muslin and ran jolly well. But ere we reached the fatal spot all was
very nearly up with the sheep. We heard a plop; Lady stopped and looked
round. She must have heard us bellowing to her as we ran. Then she came
towards us, prancing with happiness, but we said, "Down!" and "Bad dog!"
and ran sternly on.

When we came to the brook which forms the northern boundary of the
paddock we saw the sheep struggling in the water. It is not very deep,
and I believe the sheep could have stood up, and been well in its depth,
if it had liked, but it would not try.

It was a steepish bank. Alice and I got down and stuck our legs into the
water, and then Dicky came down, and the three of us hauled that sheep
up by its shoulders till it could rest on Alice and me as we sat on the
bank. It kicked all the time we were hauling. It gave one extra kick at
last, that raised it up, and I tell you that sopping wet, heavy,
panting, silly donkey of a sheep sat there on our laps like a pet dog;
and Dicky got his shoulder under it at the back and heaved constantly to
keep it from flumping off into the water again, while the others fetched
the shepherd.

When the shepherd came he called us every name you can think of, and
then he said:

"Good thing master didn't come along. He would ha' called you some tidy
names."

He got the sheep out, and took it and the others away. And the calves
too. He did not seem to care about the other performing animals.

Alice, Oswald, and Dick had had almost enough circu