Oh, how glad they were to get the salt!
Mr. Wood let Miss Laura spread it on some flat rocks, then they sat down
on a log under a tree and watched them eating it and licking the rocks
when it was all gone. Miss Laura sat fanning herself with her hat and
smiling at them. "You funny, woolly things," she said; "You're not so
stupid as some people think you are. Lie still, Joe. If you show
yourself, they may run away."
I crouched behind the log, and only lifted my head occasionally to see
what the sheep were doing. Some of them went back into the woods, for it
was very hot in this bare part of the pasture, but the most of them
would not leave Mr. Wood, and stood staring at him. "That's a fine
sheep, isn't it?" said Miss Laura, pointing to one with the blackest
face, and the blackest legs, and largest body of those near us.
"Yes; that's old Jessica. Do you notice how she's holding her head close
to the ground?"
"Yes; is there any reason for it?"
"There is. She's afraid of the grub fly. You often see sheep holding
their noses in that way in the summer time. It is to prevent the fly
from going into their nostrils, and depositing an egg, which will turn
into a grub and annoy and worry them.
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