Just then, round the corner came five Scouts, quite small, the eldest
being only thirteen years old. They soon took in the situation and
advanced to the fray. When the dogs saw them, they left the sheep and
rushed, barking, at them, and the Scouts fled. But only for a minute!
A council of war was held, and again they advanced, poles in hand, and
this time succeeded in driving off the dogs. The last the lady saw was
the plucky little patrol kneeling, with their coats off, round a poor
sheep on the ground. After that, she left, feeling the sheep was in
good hands.
In a few moments the sheep revived, its temples were laved with water,
some of which it also drank and enjoyed. Still, it was beyond standing
alone, and what was to be done next?
A stretcher was made with the poles and coats, and then came the
difficulty of getting the heavy body on to the stretcher. At last this
difficulty was overcome, and the procession started over the rough
field to the farm, two miles off.
At last the farm was reached, and the Scouts, after helping the farmer
render further, and perhaps more useful, first-aid, started on their
journey homeward.
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