One by one he named them, with an increasing feeling of relief. They
were all there. No! One was missing--Ke-barbara, the pet of the flock.
Ke-barbara means striped, and the little sheep was so called because
of the dark marking of her fleece. After waving his staff over the
huddled beasts, and uttering a few times the soothing cry, "Hoo-o-o,
ta-a-a! hoo-o-o, ta-a-a!" he rushed off in the direction which the
wolves had taken. At the top of the steep bank, at the edge of the
pasture, he stopped and called, "Ke-barbara! Ke-barbara!" and for
answer heard an anguished bleat from the rocks below.
It was a steep and slippery way, but Dahvid plunged down with no
thought of anything but the sheep. Loose stones gave way and he lost
his footing. At the bottom he picked himself up unhurt, and there
beside him were two wolves quarreling over the wounded sheep. One of
them slunk away at sight of the boy, but the other had a taste of
blood and sprang at Dahvid, missing his throat but sinking his teeth
into his leg. Then Dahvid, as the beast turned to spring again, struck
him a heavy blow on the head with his staff and killed him. His own
wounds were bleeding and painful, but he turned at once with caressing
words to the sheep.
"Ke-barbara, they have hurt you, little sheep! But they have not
killed you! I reached you just in time.
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