She looked this way and that, sometimes turning completely round to look at the road.
Presently she made a bolt off to the left and, jumping a stone wall, tried to circle back through a field.

Part of the flock immediately followed, and we had a lively race to head her off and start her along the road again.
Addison abandoned the salt dish,--it was no longer attractive to the sheep,--and helped me to drive the flock.

At every cross road Peg seemed bent on taking the wrong turn.

In spite of the cold she kept us in a perspiration, and we did not have time even to eat the luncheon that we had brought in our pockets.

Old Peg's one idea was to lead the flock home to the old farm.
By hard work we kept the sheep going in the right direction until after three o'clock in the afternoon.