Without waiting to
explain to herself the meaning of what she saw, or the reason of my
being away from the sheep, Jessie hastened towards the clover
field. As she approached, however, something occurred that made her
run with all speed.
Suddenly there was a commotion among the sheep and a noisy barking,
for in their midst was Tom Kinlay with his great retriever dog. He
chased the sheep into a corner of the enclosure, and proceeded to
belabour them with a heavy stick. The cheviot, however, bolder than
Tom had supposed, turned at bay, made a heavy rush at him, and
butting him aside bounded over the low wall, followed by all the
flock.
Tom was soon on his feet, and with his dog he gave chase. One of
the small Shetland ewes was overtaken, and disabled by a knock on
the head. The other animals, led by the cheviot, were running madly
towards the cliffs when Jessie, arriving on the scene, attempted to
intercept them. But the dog was fleet of foot, and, encouraged by
Tom's cries of "After them, good dog, after them!" continued the
pursuit with high enjoyment.
The cheviot, with the stupidity of its kind, saw not the danger to
which it was hastening. Panic stricken, it rushed towards a part of
the cliffs known as the Lyre Geo, and no efforts of Jessie could
divert its onward career.
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