Then, of a sudden, the black rage in Ferris's visage changed to
perplexity, and slowly from that to crass wonderment.

Six of the sheep had remained bunched in their runaway dash,
while all the rest had scattered singly. It was after this
bleating sextet that Chum was now racing.

Nor did he stop when he came up with them. Tearing past them he
wheeled almost in midair and slackened his pace, running
transversely ahead of them and breaking into a clamor of barks.

The six, seeing their foe menacing them from in front, came to a
jumbled and slithering halt, preparing to break their formation
and to scatter. But Chum would not have it so.

Still threatening them with his thunderous bark he made little
dashes at one or another of them that tried to break away; and he
crowded back the rest.

As a result, there was but one direction the dazed sheep could
take--the direction whence they had come. And, uncertainly,
shamblingly, they made their way back toward the fold.

Scarce had they been fairly started in their cowed progress when
Chum was off at a tangent, deserting his six charges and bearing
down with express train speed on a stray wether that had paused
in his escape to nibble at a line of early peas in the truck
garden.

At sight of the approaching collie the sheep flung up its head