Page 22 - SuperCowboyFlipBook

only that, but he leads these other rejects of nature out, and they can’t find their way back in.” “Anyway,” he continued, “I was thinking that he would be the perfect lamb for a little boy. I was thinking you might be just the one for him.” I couldn’t believe it. My own lamb! “Of course,” he continued, “you would have to catch him. Me and my men just don’t have time to help you.” I assured him that I would catch him, and that I would take good care of him. “Well, then,” he said, “Get him caught and get him home before your mother calls wondering where you are.” He didn’t have to tell me twice. I was about ready to scramble over the fence when he put his hand on my shoulder. “You don’t want to go doing that. Some old sheep would tromp you into compost. Just wait ‘til he comes out, then we’ll close up the hole, and you can catch him.” It wasn’t long until I had my chance. The little bum lamb had found an unsuspecting ewe and was feeding. Soon the chase was on, and the little lamb ran out of the pen to safety. Old Mr. Brown blocked the hole and put the stragglers back in. “Now’s your chance,” he said. “You better keep him going, or he’ll find another way in.” I took off after the lamb as fast as I could go, but the gap between us widened. Here I was five years old, and a two-week-old lamb could outrun me. Around and around we went, past the storage building and past the ram pen. The hired hands cheered us on. Old Mr. Brown’s line about them being too busy to help me catch the lamb was a bunch of bull. They sure had plenty of time to watch.