Altogether, what with vigour of the sun-rays, and leisurely haste of loose-limbed shepherd folk, and brisk to-and-froing of excited dogs, the scene was a stirring one, contrasting strangely with the eerie hush which was wont to hang over this land of marsh and peat. Hiram Hey was there, his old heart warmed by the abuse, commands and ridicule which he dispensed with a free tongue to all comers. Jose the shepherd was there, with a kindly eye and a word in season for each particular member of his flock. There were other shepherds, too, from outlying portions of the Wayne lands, and thick-thewed farm-lads, and youngsters no more than elbow-high who, under pretence of helping to collect the flocks from off the moor, tried sorely the tempers of the blunt-headed, sagacious sheep-dogs, whose manoeuvres were thrice out of four times defeated by the interference. "Well, Hiram, hast getten owt to say agen th’ weather?" said Jose, splashing into the pool. Hiram grasped the first of the ewes securely by its fleece, and half pushed, half pulled it to the brink. "Owt to say agen th’ weather? I should think I hev!" he cried. "I thowt as mich, lad. Trust thee to hev thy grumbles, choose what," panted the other, as he took the sheep bodily into his arms and plunged it under water. "’Tis varry weel for ye poor herding folk to thank th’ Lord for all this power of sun. But us as hes likelier wark—tilling, tha knaws, an’ sich like—it fair breaks a body’s heart, that it does. There’s yond Low Meadow war bahn to yield th’ bonniest crop o’ hay iver tha set een on, if we’d nobbut hed a sup o’ rain; an’ now ’tis brown as a penny-piece—ay, fair dried i’ th’ sap, it is. But ye poor, shammocky sheep-drivers think there’s nowt save ewes an’ tups i’ th’ world." "Poor, are we, say’st ’a?" snapped the shepherd who was working alongside Jose in the pool. "Ay, poor as rattens," answered Hiram. "I allus did say a sheep war th’ gaumless-est thing ’at iver went on four legs." "There’s folk more gaumless goes on two," put in Jose; "an’ tha’s getten a lob-sided view o’ sheep, Hiram Hey; tha’s all for beasts, an’ hosses, an’ pigs, an’ tha willun’t see ’at sheep are that full o’ sense——" The shepherd got no further with his speech; for the ewe which was being pushed toward the brink took a wild leap on the sudden, and landed fair into his arms before he had got his feet well planted on the bottom; and sheep and man went under the grey greasiness that covered the surface of the pool. "Ay, they’re sensible chaps, is sheep," said Hiram drily, while he watched the shepherd rub the water out of eyes and hair. "A beast now—nay, I’m thinking a calf wod hev hed more wit nor that."