Once he had purchased a number of sheep to add to his flock. A few mornings after, looking them over, he asked the shepherd where he got those strange sheep. “Why,” said the man, “they are the very sheep his honor bought.” Mr. Percy suggested, “They are very much changed,” and examining them closely, exclaimed, “They have been sheared!” “Sheared!” said the man, in utter astonishment, “is his honor’s servant such a dog as that, to let any one shear the sheep while I am the shepherd?” “Very well,” said Mr. Percy, “put the sheep in the yard and feed them.” He then turned to me and said that we would take our morning ride, as my pony and his horse were waiting. We rode off to one of the villages near which the sheep had been pastured. Calling the zemindar or head man he asked him if there was any wool in the village, as he wanted some immediately. The zemindar replied that the day previous he had seen one of the villagers carrying some wool to his house, so bidding him show us the place we followed. The man was called and told to bring out all the wool he had, which was quite a load for him. Mr. Percy said it was just the kind of wool he wanted, and told the man to bring it with him at once. He asked the zemindar to come also. We returned at a walk with the men at our heels. Mr. Percy was so quiet and deliberate that no one would have suspected the purport of this wool gathering. On reaching the sheep-fold the shepherd appeared at the gate. With a glance he took in the whole situation, the zemindar, the purchaser and the wool itself. He stood trembling from head to foot. Mr. Percy sat on his horse silently looking at him for some moments, as it seemed to me, then calling the shepherd by name, he said, “You tell that lying dog of a servant who takes care of my sheep that if he has any more wool to sell that I would like to buy it.” There was not a coarse or improper word used. There was anger, but it was of that slow, intense, deliberate kind that made every word cut with a keen, sarcastic edge, or fall like a blow upon the man until he could stand no longer, but fell crouching before us and begged that the sahib would strike him, kill him, but not say anything more. I thought that I would have rather taken any number of lashings than those reproachful words. Mr. Percy turned without another word to him, after he had thrown himself upon the ground. He inquired of the man how much he had paid for the wool, and calling the bearer told him to pay that amount and a rupee besides, and suggested that he buy no more wool of the shepherds. He also told the bearer to give the zemindar some fruit for his children, and our morning’s adventure was ended. I asked him if he was going to dismiss the shepherd. “O, no,” said he, “I might get a worse thief, and he will never shear the sheep again.” He never did, and was one of the most faithful servants ever afterward.