Page 23 - SuperCowboyFlipBook

I realized that I was making no headway playing ring-around-the-sheep-pen. I decided to cut him off at the pass. As he headed around the storage shed again, I darted around the other side. When he saw me, he nearly rammed into me trying to stop. I jumped for him and missed, landing in a pile of manure. As I lay there, Old Mr. Brown said, “Hurry, boy, he’s heading for the sheep pen!” I jumped to my feet and turned to cut him off before he got there, afraid he would find some hole in. We reached the pen at the same time, and the race continued. As we headed around for about the fifth time, I caught sight of the docking pen and had an idea. Because these pens are for catching lambs, they need to be built tighter, with gates that can be shut to enclose smaller areas. I would try to head him in there. I ran around the lambing shed to head him off. I got in position to turn him toward the docking pen, running to block his way. The men cheered me in my efforts, yelling, “Smart move!” and “You’ve got him now!” Somehow I chased him in there and was able to close the gate. One of the men gave me a piece of twine from a straw bale, and I climbed over the fence. The lamb was running at full speed around the pen, bleating in panic. I cornered him and walked toward him, gently calling, “Here lamby, lamby.” He lowered his head and charged straight for me, hitting me in the stomach with all ten pounds of fury. Down I went, gasping for breath. I heard Old Mr. Brown say, “He’s sure a spunky little feller.” I didn’t know if he meant me or the lamb, but I began to question if