meadows, the forests, the feel of the earth through the handles of his plow, the sheep feeding on the hillside. When his land became too heavy with people—so that he could no longer see the sun breaking forth in glory to the east because of city spires that rose between—he was likely to set sail for the far places of the earth, still to watch the sheep as they fed at the edge of the forest. His was a people of the soil: before they learned to plow, their flocks fed in the downs. The love of the soil had been bred into his race, warp and woof, and the little generations of exile in cities could not take his heritage away from him.
The flock fed for about two hours, then bedded down to chew their cud. Hugh was perplexed at first. He was somewhat fearful that a sudden illness had come upon the entire flock. The dog, however, seemed to understand. He came back to his master's side and the two of them had a little chat as the morning advanced. After a short rest the sheep got up and started to feed again.
There was really not much work for Hugh to do. Occasionally he would see a small band of the sheep browsing off in a different direction from the course of the main flock, but at such times the dog knew the exact course of action. He would circle around the straying animals, cut off their escape, and they were always glad to head back into the main flock. It became
