She knew that the sheep-pig, speedy as he now was, would still be much slower than the dogs, especially on the outrun; but equally she was confident that he could make this up by the promptness with which the sheep obeyed his requests. Here, at home, they shot through gaps or round obstacles as quick as a flash, never putting a foot wrong; the ones to be shed nipped out of the ring like lightning; and at the final penning, they popped in the instant that the boss opened the gate. But that was here, at home. What would strange sheep do? How would they react to Babe? Would he be able to communicate with them, in time, for there would be none to waste?
She determined to ask the flock, and one evening when Babe and the boss were watching television, she trotted off up the hill. Since that first time when she had been forced to speak civilly to them, they no longer cried 'Wolf!' at her, and now they gathered around attentively at her first words, words that were carefully polite.
'Good evening', said Fly. 'I wonder if you could be kind enough to help me? I've a little problem', and she explained it, speaking slowly and carefully (for sheep are stupid, she said to herself: nobody will ever persuade me otherwise).
'You see what I mean?' she finished. 'There they'll be, these strange sheep, and I'm sure they'll do what he tells them... asks them, I mean... eventually, but it'll all take time, explaining things. The last creature they'll be expecting to see is a pig, and they might just bolt at the sight of him, before he even gets a chance to speak to them'.
'Password', said several voices.
'What do you mean?' Fly said.
'Password, password, Pa-a-a-a-assword!' said many voices now, speaking slowly and carefully (for wolves are stupid, they said to themselves: nobody will ever persuade us otherwise).
'What our Babe's got to do', said one, 'is to larn what all of us larned when we was little lambs'.
''Tis a saying, see', said another, 'as lambs do larn at their mothers' hocks'.
'And then wherever we do go...'
'...to ma-a-a-a-arket...'
'...or to another fa-a-a-a-arm...'
'...we won't never come to no ha-a-a-a-arm...'
'...so long as we do say the pa-a-a-assword!'
'And if our Babe do say it to they...'
'...why then, they won't never run away!'
Fly felt her patience slipping, but she controlled herself, knowing how important this information could be.
'Please', she said quietly, 'please will you tell me the password?'
For a long moment the flock stood silent, the only movement a turning of heads as they looked at one another. Fly could sense that they were nerving themselves to tell this age-old secret, to give away - to a wolf, of all things - this treasured countersign.
Then ''Tis for Babe', someone said, ''tis for his sa-a-a-ake'.
'Ah!' they all said softly. 'A-a-a-a-a-a-ah!' and then with one voice they began to intone:
'I may be ewe, I may be ram, I may be mutton, may be lamb, But on the hoof or on the hook, I bain't so stupid as I look'.
Then by general consent they began to move away, grazing as they went.
'Is that it?' called Fly after them. 'Is that the password?' and the murmur came back 'A-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a- ar!'
'But what does it all mean, Mum?' said Babe that night when she told him. 'All that stuff about 'I may be you' and other words I don't understand. It doesn't make sense to me'.
'That doens't matter, dear', said Fly. 'You just get it off by heart. It may make all the difference on the day'.
Chapter 11
'Today is the day'
The day, when it dawned, was just that little bit too bright.
On the opposite side of the valley the trees and houses and haystacks stood out clearly against the background in that three-dimensional way that means rain later.
Farmer Hogget came out and sniffed the air and looked around. Then he went inside again to fetch waterproof clothing.
Fly knew, the moment that she set eyes on the boss, that this was the day. Dogs have lived so long with humans that they know what's going to happen, sometimes even before their owners do. She woke Babe.
'Today', she said.
'Today what, Mum?' said Babe sleepily.
'Today is the day of the Grand Challenge Sheep-dog Trials', said Fly proudly. 'Which you, dear', she added in a confident voice, 'are going to win!' With a bit of luck, she thought, and tenderly she licked the end of his snout.
She looked critically at the rest of him, anxious as any mum that her child should be well turned out if it is to appear in public.
'Oh Babe!' she said 'Your coat's in an awful mess. What have you been doing with yourself? You look just as though you've been wallowing in the duckpond'.
'Yes'.
'You mean you have?'
'Yes, Mum'.
Fly was on the point of saying that puppies don't do such things, when she remembered that he was, after all, a pig.
'Well, I don't know about Large White', she said. 'You've certainly grown enormous but it's anyone's guess what colour you are under all that muck. Whatever's to be done?'
Immediately her question was answered.
'Come, Pig', said Hogget's voice from the yard, and when they came out of the stables, there stood the farmer with hosepipe and scrubbing brush and pails of soapy water.
Half an hour later, when a beautifully clean shining Babe stood happily dripping while Hogget brushed out the tassle of his tight-curled tail till it looked like candy-floss, Mrs Hogget stuck her head out of the kitchen window.
'Breakfast's ready', she called, 'but what in the world bist doing with thik pig, taking him to a pig show or summat, I thought you was going to drive up and watch the Trials today, anybody'd think you was going to enter 'e in them the way you've got un done up, only he wouldn't be a sheep-dog, he'd be a sheep-pig wouldn't 'e, tee hee, whoever heard of such a thing, I must be daft though it's you that's daft really, carrying him about in the poor old Land Rover the size he is now, the bottom'll fall out, I shouldn't wonder, you ain't surely going to drive all that way with him in the back just so's he can watch?'
'No', said Farmer Hogget.
Mrs Hogget considered this answer for a moment with her mouth open, while raising and lowering her eyebrows, shaking her head, and drumming on the window-sill with her finger-tips. Then she closed her mouth and the window.
After breakfast she came out to see them off. Fly was sitting in the passenger seat, Babe was comfortable in a thick bed of clean straw in the back, of which he now took up the whole space.
Mrs Hogget walked round the Land Rover, giving out farewell pats.
'Good boy', she said to Babe, and 'Good girl', to Fly. And to Hogget, 'Goodbye and have you got your sandwiches and your thermos of coffee and your raincoat, looks as if it might rain, thought I felt a spot just now though I suppose it might be different where you'm going seeing as it's a hundred miles away, that reminds me have you got enough petrol or if not enough money to get some if you haven't if you do see what I do mean, drive carefully, see you later'.
'Two o'clock', said Hogget. And before his wife had time to say anything, added, 'On the telly. Live', and put the Land Rover into gear and drove away.
