I have
been an hour among the briars and bushes of the hill logging, looking for
the lost wether, and yet neither lock, hoof, hide, nor horn, is there to
say what hath befallen the animal."
"Thou hast lost a sheep!--this carelessness will cause thy mother
to grieve."
"Grandfather, I have been no idler. Since the last hunt, the flock hath
been allowed to browse the woods; for no man, in all that week, saw wolf,
panther, or bear, though the country was up, from the great river to the
outer settlements of the colony. The biggest four-footed animal, that lost
its hide in the muster, was a thin-ribbed deer, and the stoutest battle
given, was between wild Whittal Ring, here, and a wood-chuck that kept him
at arm's-length, for the better part of an afternoon."
"Thy tale may be true, but it neither finds that which is lost, nor
completeth the number of thy mother's flock. Hast thou ridden carefully
throughout the clearing? It is not long, since I saw the animals grazing
in that quarter. What hast thou twisting in thy fingers, in that wasteful
and unthankful manner, Whittal?"
"What would make a winter blanket, if there was enough of it! wool! and
wool, too, that came from the thigh of old Straight-Horns; else have I
forgotten a leg, that gives the longest and coarsest hair at the
shearing.
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