Chapter 7
THE ENGINE PUFFED and chugged and thumped. Goats bleated, jostled each other and nosed around in the feed trough.
Hoses vibrated. The pipe spewed sloshes of milk into the vat. First a gush, then a steady stream, which slowed to a mere trickle.
There. The next lot done.
Milleus pulled the release. A hiss of steam escaped the vent on top of the compressor. Suction pads disengaged from udders and flung back to their positions under the arm of the milking machine. As one, the goats lifted their heads from the feeding trough and bolted for the gate of the milking pen.
“Mercy! Be calm, the lot of you. Just what is wrong?” Milleus straightened, squinting against the glare of sunlight, and the shimmering air. He scanned the edge of the wood up the hill, across the golden field of gr
