intelligent too," said Fly firmly. Ask them politely, she thought, whatever next! What happened next, later that morning in fact, was that Babe met his first sheep.
Farmer Hogget and Fly had been out round the flock, and when they returned Fly was driving before her an old lame ewe, which they penned in the loose-box where the piglet had originally been shut. Then they went away up the hill again.
Babe made his way into the stables, curious to meet this, the first of the animals that he planned one day to work with, but he could not see into the box. He snuffled under the bottom of the door, and from inside there came a cough and the sharp stamp of a foot, and then the sound of a hoarse complaining voice. "Wolves! Wolves!" it said. "They do never leave a body alone. Nag, nag, nag all day long, go here, go there, do this, do that. What d'you want now? Can't you give us a bit of peace, wolf?"
"I'm not a wolf," said Babe under the door.
"Oh, I knows all that," said the sheep sourly. "Calls yourself a sheep-dog, I knows that, but you don't fool none of us. You're a wolf like the rest of 'em, given half a chance. You looks at us, and you sees lamb-chops. Go away, wolf."
"But I'm not a sheep-dog either," said Babe, and he scrambled up the stack of straw bales and looked over the bars.
"You see?" he said.
"Well I'll be dipped," said the old sheep, peering up at him, "no more you ain't. What are you?"
"Pig," said Babe. "Large White. What are you?"
"Ewe," said the sheep.
"No, not me, you--what are you?"
"I'm a ewe."
Mum was right, thought Babe, they certainly are stupid. But if I'm going to learn how to be a sheep-pig I must try to understand them, and this might be a good chance. Perhaps I could make a friend of this one.
"My name's Babe," he said in a jolly voice. "What's yours?"
"Maaaaa," said the sheep.
"That's a nice name," said Babe. "What's the matter with you, Ma?"
"Foot-rot," said the sheep, holding up a foreleg. "And I've got a nasty cough." She coughed. "And I'm not as young as I was."
"You don't look very old to me," said Babe politely.
A look of pleasure came over the sheep's mournful face, and she lay down in the straw.
"Very civil of you to say so," she said. "First kind word I've had since I were a little lamb," and she belched loudly and began to chew a mouthful of cud. Though he did not quite know why, Babe said nothing to Fly of his conversation with Ma. Farmer Hogget had treated the sheep's foot and tipped a drench down its protesting throat, and now, as darkness fell, dog and pig lay side by side, their rest only occasionally disturbed by a rustling from the next-door box. Having at last set eyes on a sheep, Babe's dreams were immediately filled with the creatures, all lame, all coughing, all, like the ducks, scattering wildly before his attempts to round them up.
"Go here, go there, do this, do that!" he squeaked furiously at them, but they took not a bit of notice, until at last the dream turned to nightmare, and they all came hopping and hacking and maa-+ after him with hatred gleaming in their mad yellow eyes.
"Mum! Mum!" shouted Babe in terror.
"Maaaaa!" said a voice next door.
"It's all right, dear," said Fly, "it's all right. Was it a nasty dream?"
"Yes, yes."
"What were you dreaming about?"
"Sheep, Mum."
"I expect it was because of that stupid old thing in there," said Fly. "Shut up!" she barked. "Noisy old fool!" And to Babe she said, "Now cuddle up, dear, and go to sleep. There's nothing to be frightened of."
She licked his snout until it began to give out a series of regular snores. Sheep-pig indeed, she thought, why the silly boy's frightened of the things, and she put her nose on her paws and went to sleep.
Babe slept soundly the rest of the night, and woke more determined than ever to learn all that he could from their new neighbour. As soon as Fly had gone
Farmer Hogget and Fly had been out round the flock, and when they returned Fly was driving before her an old lame ewe, which they penned in the loose-box where the piglet had originally been shut. Then they went away up the hill again.
Babe made his way into the stables, curious to meet this, the first of the animals that he planned one day to work with, but he could not see into the box. He snuffled under the bottom of the door, and from inside there came a cough and the sharp stamp of a foot, and then the sound of a hoarse complaining voice. "Wolves! Wolves!" it said. "They do never leave a body alone. Nag, nag, nag all day long, go here, go there, do this, do that. What d'you want now? Can't you give us a bit of peace, wolf?"
"I'm not a wolf," said Babe under the door.
"Oh, I knows all that," said the sheep sourly. "Calls yourself a sheep-dog, I knows that, but you don't fool none of us. You're a wolf like the rest of 'em, given half a chance. You looks at us, and you sees lamb-chops. Go away, wolf."
"But I'm not a sheep-dog either," said Babe, and he scrambled up the stack of straw bales and looked over the bars.
"You see?" he said.
"Well I'll be dipped," said the old sheep, peering up at him, "no more you ain't. What are you?"
"Pig," said Babe. "Large White. What are you?"
"Ewe," said the sheep.
"No, not me, you--what are you?"
"I'm a ewe."
Mum was right, thought Babe, they certainly are stupid. But if I'm going to learn how to be a sheep-pig I must try to understand them, and this might be a good chance. Perhaps I could make a friend of this one.
"My name's Babe," he said in a jolly voice. "What's yours?"
"Maaaaa," said the sheep.
"That's a nice name," said Babe. "What's the matter with you, Ma?"
"Foot-rot," said the sheep, holding up a foreleg. "And I've got a nasty cough." She coughed. "And I'm not as young as I was."
"You don't look very old to me," said Babe politely.
A look of pleasure came over the sheep's mournful face, and she lay down in the straw.
"Very civil of you to say so," she said. "First kind word I've had since I were a little lamb," and she belched loudly and began to chew a mouthful of cud. Though he did not quite know why, Babe said nothing to Fly of his conversation with Ma. Farmer Hogget had treated the sheep's foot and tipped a drench down its protesting throat, and now, as darkness fell, dog and pig lay side by side, their rest only occasionally disturbed by a rustling from the next-door box. Having at last set eyes on a sheep, Babe's dreams were immediately filled with the creatures, all lame, all coughing, all, like the ducks, scattering wildly before his attempts to round them up.
"Go here, go there, do this, do that!" he squeaked furiously at them, but they took not a bit of notice, until at last the dream turned to nightmare, and they all came hopping and hacking and maa-+ after him with hatred gleaming in their mad yellow eyes.
"Mum! Mum!" shouted Babe in terror.
"Maaaaa!" said a voice next door.
"It's all right, dear," said Fly, "it's all right. Was it a nasty dream?"
"Yes, yes."
"What were you dreaming about?"
"Sheep, Mum."
"I expect it was because of that stupid old thing in there," said Fly. "Shut up!" she barked. "Noisy old fool!" And to Babe she said, "Now cuddle up, dear, and go to sleep. There's nothing to be frightened of."
She licked his snout until it began to give out a series of regular snores. Sheep-pig indeed, she thought, why the silly boy's frightened of the things, and she put her nose on her paws and went to sleep.
Babe slept soundly the rest of the night, and woke more determined than ever to learn all that he could from their new neighbour. As soon as Fly had gone
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