[Illustration]
September came, bringing its customary changeable weather. One damp and
windy day when all the furies seemed loose, Turgen went as usual to
take food to his charges and stand watch.
“Though why anyone should come out in this weather I don’t know,” he
thought. “Even the rams will surely keep under shelter.”
But no. He had time only to drop the hay and retreat to his watching
post when there they were in full strength--the whole family. The rain
annoyed them and they shook themselves from time to time. Otherwise
they showed no discomfiture. While the leader and two other males
circled the clearing on the alert for danger, the rest stood quietly
in the lee of the cliff waiting for the rain to abate. Looking for the
lambs, Turgen saw them lying snugly under their mothers’ bellies.
At the first sign of the weather’s clearing Turgen’s favorite jumped
up and ran to urge the second lamb to romp with him. She refused,
preferring her comfort. He then advanced on the older rams, trying by
all the wiles he could command to get their attention. Turgen almost
laughed aloud watching his antics.
“What a show-off!” Then he worried. “It is cold and wet for one so
young. He will get sick.-- But that’s an absurd idea. He is not made of
clay that he will melt.”
Soon after this the rain stopped and Turgen started for home. He
had gone only a few steps when a shot rang out. There were hunters
somewhere in the hills nearby--too far away to menace the herd of rams
but the sound of gunfire alone was enough to cause panic. While the
echo was still curling around the mountains the rams crowded around the
leader as he stood irresolute, his head raised, his nostrils distended
to test the air. It was he who must say what they should do.
In a minute the old ram turned and came at a light trot across a narrow
stone abutment that formed a natural bridge between the clearing and
the adjoining hill where Turgen stood. Without hesitation the other
rams followed him in single file, males and females alternating.
Turgen’s lamb was behind his mother and just in front of the male ram
who brought up the rear. The bridge led to a labyrinth of caves where
escape was easy. That it led past Turgen seemed a matter of no concern
to the rams in the face of great danger.
The bridge was no doubt slippery but the rams were sure-footed and they
did not give way to panic. They were moving in a direction away from
the gunfire. But Turgen had another plan. He would go toward the place
from which the shot came. Should he meet the hunter, the hunter would
understand that he was trespassing and leave the neighborhood--for such
was the custom. Only one hunter was allowed to a region.
But before Turgen could act on his resolve, there was another shot. The
ram at the rear of the line, hearing it, jumped, made an incautious
step, and knocked against the lamb, who fell from the bridge.