“I hope Bob is going to win,” she remarked.

“It’s doubtful,” Kit replied.  “He’s clever, but they don’t give us much time and he’s getting slow.  One or two of his rivals are very good.”

“You’ll do your best, old Bob,” said Grace, and the dog, looking up at her with friendly eyes, beat his tail on the ground.

Then Gerald came up, and soon afterwards the judges tied a string to a farmer’s leg and fastened the other end to a post.  This allowed him to run a short distance, after which he must direct his dog by voice.

“First trial, Mr. Forsyth’s Merry Lad,” a steward announced, and the crowd gathered round when the judge took out his watch.

Furze bushes had been stuck into the ground to simulate a broken hedge.  Beyond these was a row of hurdles with an open gate, and then a number of obstacles, while a railed pen occupied a corner of the field.  Kit gave Grace a card showing the way the sheep must be driven round the different barriers.

“It’s a good test, particularly as we can’t follow the dogs and they must take each obstacle in its proper turn.”

“They are wonderfully clever to understand,” said Grace, and stopped when the judge shouted, “Time!”

The farmer called his dog, a handsome smooth-haired collie, that set off with a bound and drove the sheep at full speed towards the furze.  As they came up, with fleeces shaking and a patter of little feet, the man ran to the length of the string and waved his stick.

“Away back!  Gan away back!  T’ither slap, ye fule!”

People laughed when the dog in desperate haste stopped the sheep as they packed outside a hole, but it drove them to the next gap, through which they streamed.

“Forrad!  Gan forrad!” cried the farmer.  “Head them, Merry Lad!”

The dog turned the sheep and brought them back through another opening, after which they raced towards the hurdles, and the collie hesitated as if puzzled by its master’s shouts.  The sheep were near the end of the rails, but it was not the end the card indicated.  Then the dog seemed to understand what was required, and circling round the flock with swift, graceful leaps, drove them along the hurdles and round the other end.

There was some applause from the crowd and afterwards good-humored banter when the dog ran backwards and forwards at a loss.  The animal obviously knew the flock must be taken round the remaining obstacles, but had only its master’s shouts for guide to the order in which they must be passed.  Sometimes the farmer got angry and sometimes laughed, but except for a mistake or two the collie drove the sheep in and out among the barriers as the card required and put them in the pen.

Two or three more trials took place, and for the most part, the unoccupied dogs strained at their leads and whimpered, but old Bob sat at Kit’s feet, watching, with his head on one side.

“One can see he’s thinking; I believe he wants to remember the right way round,” Grace remarked, and smiled when a steward beckoned Kit.  “It’s your turn,” she said.  “I wish you good luck!”