THE SHEEP DIP
togetfler, a bush shook up the road. One of the big ewes must
have strayed off. She staggered forward, flop-eared, bleating
for her young.
For a moment the boss seemed to sag. He looked ready
to burst into tears. He leaped like a wrestler doing the "flying
mare." His wet pants stuck to his buttocks. He knocked her
down with both fists. He grabbed her by "the legs. He whirled
her around and around. He kept whirling as if he were in a
twister. With a grunt he hurled her across the fence.
She landed with a thud. She made a few knifelike thrusts
with her legs. She lay still. The rain ate the blood off her nose.
The boys stood rooted in the mud. Their faces were
bunched with terror. They jerked up their bruised young hands.
They started crying.
Their father kn elt in the mud sucking air like a lamb from
whom the ewe had pulled away. The wind tore the words from
his mouth. Bubbles like animal eyes burst in the boiling puddles.
He got up lifting his knees high. He leaned against a
tree. The package of lunch lay on the grass. The oldest boy
clawed for it. He gulped, "Eat, Paw, eat." The other boy,
sobbing, held on to his father's torn shirt.
The boss shook his dripping head. A puzzled look churned
his face. He stared off thru the break in the trees. There in
the distance his field of crushed oats. There the silo poking
out like a rusty muzzl e. Only good for a hogpen since the
tumble in milk.
The boy still held the soggy bread. The boss pawed the
bread. His big ears moved. He crushed the bread between
his jaws. He looked anxiously at the young twisted faces. He
gulped at last, "Sweat-sweat your head off till it's turned
blister. Little comes of it. It's all factory. All, Christ Al–
mighty I"
He wiped his big shaken hands. The sheep bleated in the
bushes. We followed him in the rain.
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