“Perhaps I can be of service to you.”

She started, and glanced round quickly.  A slender, dark, young man, a stranger, was standing beside her, glancing, with unconcealed amusement, from her flushed, irate countenance to the sulky, streaming visage at her feet.

“Oh, thank you; you can indeed,” accepting his proffered aid with grateful readiness.  “If you will kindly drive these sheep away, I’ll be much indebted to you.  This provoking little boy is afraid of them, or pretends to be, and I can’t induce him to stir.  Now, Sawney, hush that abominable noise this instant!  The gentleman is going to drive all the sheep away.”

With perfect gravity, but his eyes full of laughter, Nesbit Thorne flourished his cane and advanced on the flock menacingly.  The animals backed slowly.  “Will that do?” he called, when he had driven them about a hundred yards.

“A little further, please,” she answered.  “No, a great deal further; quite to the end of the field.  He won’t move yet!” Her voice quivered with suppressed mirth.

Feeling like “Little Boy Blue” recalled to a sense of duty, Thorne pursued the sheep remorselessly; the poor beasts, convinced at last that disappointment was to be their portion, trotted before him meekly, giving vent to their feelings in occasional bleats of reproach.

Meanwhile, Pocahontas lifted Sawney forcibly to his feet, and led him across to the opposite fence, over which she helped him to climb, being determined that no more scenes should be inflicted on her that morning.  When she had put a barrier between him and danger, she ordered him to sit down and calm his shattered nerves and recover his behavior.  She remained within the field, herself, leaning against the fence and awaiting the gentleman’s return, that she might thank him.

By the time he rejoined her, Nesbit Thorne had decided that his new acquaintance was a very handsome, and unusually attractive woman.  The adventure amused him, and he had a mind to pursue it further.  As he approached, he removed his hat courteously, with a pleasant, half-jocular remark about the demoralized condition of her escort, and a word indicative of his surprise at finding a country child, of any color, afraid of animals.

“Yes; it is unusual,” she assented, smiling on him with her handsome gray eyes, “I can’t account for his terror, for I’m sure no animal has ever harmed him.  If he were older I’d accuse him of trying to earn a cheap notoriety, but he’s almost too little to pretend.  He’s a troublesome monkey, and if I’d noticed he was following me, I’d have forbidden him.  I’m much indebted for your kindly service; without your assistance, Sawney would have sat there screaming until they organized an expedition at home to cruise in search of us, or the sheep had retired of their own accord.”