This frightens those still in the yard, and they stop running out.

Then the dogging and shrieking and hustling and tearing have to be
gone through all over again. (This on a red-hot day, mind you,
with clouds of blinding dust about, the yolk of wool irritating your eyes,
and, perhaps, three or four thousand sheep to put through).
The delay throws out the man who is counting, and he forgets whether
he left off at 45 or 95. The dogs, meanwhile, have taken the first chance
to slip over the fence and hide in the shade somewhere, and then
there are loud whistlings and oaths, and calls for Rover and Bluey.
At last a dirt-begrimed man jumps over the fence, unearths Bluey,
and hauls him back by the ear. Bluey sets to work barking
and heeling-'em up again, and pretends that he thoroughly enjoys it;
but all the while he is looking out for another chance to "clear".
And THIS time he won't be discovered in a hurry.

There is a well-authenticated story of a ship-load of sheep that was lost
because an old ram jumped overboard, and all the rest followed him.
No doubt they did, and were proud to do it. A sheep won't go through
an open gate on his own responsibility, but he would gladly and proudly
"follow the leader" through the red-hot portals of Hades:
and it makes no difference whether the lead goes voluntarily,
or is hauled struggling and kicking and fighting every inch of the way.

For pure, sodden stupidity there is no animal like the merino.
A lamb will follow a bullock-dray, drawn by sixteen bullocks
and driven by a profane person with a whip, under the impression
that the aggregate monstrosity is his mother. A ewe never knows
her own lamb by sight, and apparently has no sense of colour.
She can recognise its voice half a mile off among a thousand other voices