[Illustration: "HAVE OUR SHEEP ALWAYS BEEN DIPPED?"]

The Story of Wool

BY

SARA WARE BASSETT

Author of "The Story of Lumber" and"The Story of Leather"

ILLUSTRATED BYELIZABETH OTIS

THE PENN PUBLISHINGCOMPANY PHILADELPHIA

COPYRIGHT1913 BYTHE PENNPUBLISHINGCOMPANY

 _To MY FATHER_

 _It gives me pleasure to acknowledge the courtesy and coöperation of the United States Department of Agriculture. _

 _S. W. B. _

Contents

 I. A Mysterious Telegram 9

 II. Who Sandy Was 27

 III. The Dipping 36

 IV. Sandy Gives Donald a Lesson 56

 V. Thornton Has a Reprimand 70

 VI. Donald's First Adventure On the Range 82

 VII. A Narrow Escape 103

 VIII. Donald Has a Surprise 122

 IX. A Second Adventure 136

 X. A Prediction That Came True 152

 XI. The Shearing 165

 XII. Home to the East 183

 XIII. Donald Decides 204

[Illustration]

THE STORY OF WOOL

CHAPTER I

A MYSTERIOUS TELEGRAM

Donald Clark glanced up from his Latin grammar and watched his father ashe tore open the envelope of a telegram and ran his eye over itscontents. Evidently the message was puzzling. Again Mr. Clark read it. Donald wondered what it could be. All the afternoon the yellow envelopehad been on the table, and more than once his mind had wandered from thelessons he was preparing to speculate on the possible tidings wrappedup in that sealed packet. Not that a telegram was an unheard-of event inthe family. No, his father received many; most of them, however, went tothe Boston office, and the boy could not imagine what this one was doingat their Cambridge home. 

The moment his father entered the house Donald handed him the envelopeand Mr. Clark quickly stripped it open; yet even though it now layspread out before him the mystery it contained appeared to be unsolved. It was seldom that Donald asked questions, nevertheless he found himselfwondering and wondering what it was that had brought that odd littlewrinkle into his father's forehead. Donald understood that wrinkle; hehad seen it many times and knew it never came unless some question aroseto which it was difficult to frame an answer. As his father and he hadlived alone together ever since he could remember they had grown to knoweach other very well, and had become the best of friends. It thereforefollowed that when one worried, both worried. 

As the boy looked on, his father glanced up suddenly and caught sightof the anxiety mirrored in his face. The man smiled kindly. 

"I can find no answer to this riddle, Don, " he said. "Listen! Perhapsyou can help me. A few days ago I received word from Crescent Ranch thatJohnson, our manager, had been thrown from his horse while out on therange and so badly hurt that he will never again be able to continue hiswork with us. They have taken him to the hospital at Glen City. Theletter came from Tom Thornton, the head herder at the ranch. Thorntonassured me that everything was going well, and that there was not theslightest need for me to come to Idaho. "

Donald listened. 

"Well, to-day I received this telegram. It is neither from Johnson norThornton. It reads:

"'You would do well to visit Crescent Ranch, ' and it is signed--'SandyMcCulloch. '"

"Who is Sandy McCulloch?" asked Donald. 

"That's the puzzle! I do not know. I never heard of any such person inmy life--not that I remember. Evidently, though, he knows enough aboutme to know that I own that sheep ranch, and to think that I ought to goout there and see it. I do not understand it at all. What do you make ofit, son?"

Donald thought carefully. 

"Do you suppose anything is wrong on the ranch?"

"No, indeed! Thornton wrote particularly that everything was all right. He was Johnson's assistant, and he ought to know. Besides, he has beenwith us a long time, and is thoroughly familiar with every part of thework. "

"Maybe it's a joke, " ventured Donald. 

"It would be a stupid sort of joke to get me from Boston to Idaho on awild-goose chase. No, there is no joke about this, " went on Mr. Clark, rising and pacing the floor. "Sandy McCulloch is real, and he has somereal reason for wanting me to go to Crescent Ranch. I think I shall takehis advice and go. "

Donald was astounded. His father never left home. 

"And the office?"

"Uncle Harold will have to do double duty while I am gone. "

"And--and--I?" inquired the boy hesitatingly. 

Idaho seemed very far away--quite at the other end of the world. 

"You? Oh, you'll have to go along too! I shall need you. "

Donald drew a long breath. 

"Let me see, " continued his father, "this is the end of March, isn't it?Your spring term is about over. I happen to know you are well up in yourwork, for I met Mr. Hurlbert, the high school principal, only yesterday. I am sure that if you fall behind by going on this trip you will studyall the harder to make up the work when you get back, won't you?"

"Yes, sir!" was the emphatic promise. 

"You see I've no idea how long I shall be detained out West, therefore Ihave no mind to leave you here. You might be ill. Besides, I should missyou, Don. "

"I'd much rather go with you, father. "

A quick light of pleasure flashed in the father's eyes. 

"Then that's settled, " he exclaimed decisively. "Now I'll tell you what Imean to do. I am not going to wire Crescent Ranch that we are coming. Instead we will drop down and surprise them. It won't take long to seehow things are running, and even if it proves that everything is allright I shall not begrudge the trip, for I have felt for some time thatI ought to go. Clark & Sons have owned that ranch for thirty years, andyet I have never been near it. It certainly is time I went. "

"How did it happen you never did go, father?"

"Well, during your grandfather's life an old Scotchman managed the ranchand attended to shipping the wool. As we had nothing to do but to sellit, we did not bother much about the place, for we had perfectconfidence in Old Angus, the manager. After your grandfather died, UncleHarold and I had all we could do to attend to the business here. It grewso rapidly that it was about as much as two young fellows like ourselvescould handle. We always meant to go out--one of us--but we never did. Then our faithful Scotchman died. We felt lost, I can tell you! He hadhad all the management of Crescent for twenty years and was one of thefinest men in the world. He might have lived until now, perhaps, had henot been caught on the range in a blizzard while struggling to get aflock of sheep out of the storm and thereby lost his life. "

Mr. Clark paused a moment. 

"After him came Johnson. He has done his work well, so far as we know;but now he is out of the running too and we shall have to get some oneelse. "

"Whom are you going to get?"

"I haven't the most remote idea. You see, Don, I know next to nothingabout managing a ranch. I stay here in Boston and simply sell wool. Thisend of the business I know thoroughly, but the other end is Greek tome. "

Donald laughed. He was just beginning Greek. 

"I am glad you don't know about a ranch, father, " he exclaimed. 

"Why?"

"Oh, because you seem to know almost everything else, and it is fun tofind something you don't know. "

There was admiration in the boy's words. 

His father shook his head and there was a shadow of sadness in his smileas he replied:

"I know very little, Donald boy. The older I grow the less I know, too. You will feel that way when you are my age. Now here is a chance for usto learn something together. Let's go to Idaho and find out all we canabout sheep-raising. "

Within the next few days the plans for the journey were completed. 

As one article after another was purchased and packed the trip unfoldedinto a most alluring pilgrimage. They must take their riding togs, forUncle Harold reminded them that they would probably be in the saddlemuch of the time; their camping kit must go also; above all they mustcarry good revolvers and rifles. Donald's heart beat high. He and hisfather had always ridden a great deal together; it was their favoritesport. Now they were to have whole days of it. And added to thispleasure was the crowning glory of both a rifle and a revolver!

All this fairy-land of the future had come about through SandyMcCulloch!

Who was this wonderful Sandy? And why had he telegraphed?

Sandy McCulloch! The very name breathed a charm. Donald repeated it tohimself constantly. He dreamed dreams and wove adventures about thismysterious Scotchman. He knew he should like Sandy. Who could help it?His name was enough. 

In the meantime the days of preparation flew by. Donald's springexaminations were passed with honors--a fact which his father declaredproved that he had taken his work in earnest and that he deserved anouting. Mr. Clark laughingly ventured the hope that he should be able toleave his business affairs in equally good condition. 

"You have set quite a pace for me, Don! I am not sure whether I can takehonors at the office or not. I have done the best I could, however, toput things into Uncle Harold's hands so to cause him as little troubleas possible. "

Donald tried not to become impatient while these arrangements were beingmade. 

At last dawned that clear April morning when the East was left behindand the journey to the West--that unknown land--was begun. Donald hadnever been West. The vastness of the country, the newness of the scenerysurprised and delighted him. Geography had never seemed so real before. No longer were the various states pink, green, or purple splotches onthe map; they were real living places with people, sunshine, and freshair. 

"I had no idea America was so big!" he gasped to his father. 

"It's the finest country in the world, Don! Be proud and thankful thatyou are an American. No other land does so much for her people. Behumble, too. Never let a chance go by to do your part in helping thecountry that does so much for you. "

They were standing in the glassed-in rear of the train, and as Mr. Clark spoke he pointed to vast tracts of forest land that sped pastthem. 

"I am afraid I can't do anything for a great country like this, father, "said Donald, a little quiver in his voice. 

"There is one thing we can all do--that is be good citizens. Every lawwe have was made for the good of our people. In so far as you keep theselaws you will be aiding in building up a more perfect America. Bear yourshare in that work--do not be a hindrance, Don. "

"I'll try, father, " was the boy's grave reply. 

To help in the progress of such a land as this! More than once Donaldthought of his father's words as the train threaded its way along thebanks of mighty rivers, rolled through great woodlands, or skirtedcities which throbbed with the life of mighty industries. 

And all this vast-reaching land was his country--his!

On every hand there were wonders!

As the express thundered along he poured out question after question. 

Why did people go way to Idaho to raise sheep? Why didn't his fatherraise his sheep in the East? Certainly there was room enough, plenty ofroom, that was much nearer than Idaho. How did sheep get into themountains of Idaho anyway?

Mr. Clark ducked his head under the torrent of queries. 

"You will drown me with questions!" he exclaimed laughing. "Well, Ishall do my best to answer you. New Mexico was the first sheep center inour country. Herds were originally brought from Spain, and these flocksworked their way up from Mexico through New Mexico and California; herethe hills supplied the coolness necessary to animals with such thickcoats, and furnished them at the same time with plentiful grass forfood. During the day the herds grazed, and at night they were driveninto corrals of cedar built by the shepherds. These sheep were mostlyMerinos, a variety raised in Spain. Afterward, in 1853, a man namedWilliam W. Hollister brought three hundred ewes across our continent tothe West. Think what a journey it must have been!"

"Wasn't the railroad built?"

"No. Neither were there any bridges. There were rivers to swim andmountains to climb; furthermore there was many a search for water-holes, because Mr. Hollister was not well enough acquainted with the country toknow where to find water for himself and the herd. "

"I should not think a sheep would have lived through such a journey!"cried Donald. 

"Many of them did, however, " answered his father, "and that is how ourwestern sheep-raising industry began. Now it is one of the greatoccupations of our land, and soon you and I are to know more about it. "

"And about Sandy McCulloch, too, I hope, " put in the boy. 

"I hope so; only remember--not a word of that telegram to any one at theranch. We shall get into Glen City this noon if our train is on time andwe must trust to luck in getting to Crescent Ranch. It is fifteen milesfrom the station, up in the foot-hills of the Rockies. "

"The--the--you don't mean the Rocky Mountains!" gasped Donald, his eyesvery wide open. 

"Certainly. Have you forgotten your geography?"

"Of course I know that a spur of the Rocky Mountains does run diagonallyacross Idaho; but somehow I never thought of really being in the RockyMountains!"

Mr. Clark enjoyed the outburst. 

"To be where there are bears and bob-cats and----"

"Maybe, after all, you would rather have stayed at home and finished outyour school year. "

"I rather guess not!" was the lad's emphatic reply. 

So impatient was he to see the marvels of this magic land that the lastfew hours of the journey seemed unending. 

But they did end. 

Toward noon the heavy train pulled into Glen City and they bundled outon to the platform. They were the only passengers, but there was agreat deal of freight--boxes, barrels, and cases of provisions. As theystood hesitating as to what they had better do a tall, bony young fellowapproached the station agent and called with a decided suggestion of theHighlander in his accent:

"I dinna see those kegs of lime for Crescent Ranch, Mitchell. "

"They're here. You will find them at the end of the platform. Come, andI'll help you pile them on your wagon. "

Mr. Clark turned to the Scotchman. 

"Are you going to Crescent Ranch?"

"Aye, I be, sir. "

"Can you take my son and me along?"

The Scotchman studied him carefully. 

"Have you business at the ranch?" he asked, looking keenly into the eyesof the speaker. 

Mr. Clark met his gaze good-naturedly. 

"We might possibly have, " he answered. "At any rate we want to go upthere. My name is Clark and I come from Boston. "

"Clark, did you say, sir?"

"Yes. "

The stolid stare of the Scotchman did not waver. 

"Mayhap you're the owner, sir. "

"Yes, I am. "

A gleam of something very like satisfaction passed over the tannedfeatures of the young man. Then his face settled back into its wontedcalmness. 

"It's welcome you are, sir, " he said heartily. "I dinna think there'llbe trouble about taking you and your son to Crescent. "

He wheeled and led the way to a wagon, where he piled up some sacks ofgrain for his guests to sit upon. Then he lifted in their luggage andthe freight for which he had come, and gathered the lines over the backsof his horses. 

As the wagon toiled up the long, low hills Mr. Clark began askingquestions about the ranch--he asked many questions concerning thecountry and the flocks. To all of these he received terse answers. 

Presently the Scotchman turned. 

"It's little you be knowin' of sheepin', sir. "

The remark was made with so much simplicity that it could not have beenmistaken for rudeness. 

"Very little. "

"Keep it to yourself, man, " was the laconic advice the Highlander tossedover his shoulder as he transferred his attention to his horses. 

Mr. Clark bit his lip to hide a smile. 

"What is your name, my lad?" he asked suddenly. 

"Sandy McCulloch, sir, " was the quiet answer. 

Donald waited, listening eagerly to every turn of the conversation thatfollowed, but to his astonishment neither his father nor Sandy McCullochspoke one word regarding the mysterious telegram. 

It was nightfall when the wagon that had brought them turned into amuddy drive and stopped before a bare looking house situated in ameadow, and surrounded by a number of vast barns and sheep-pens. Out ofthis house came a broad-shouldered, bronzed man who stood on the steps, waiting their approach. He wore trousers of sheepskin, a soiled flannelshirt, and round his neck--knotted in the back--was a red handkerchief. Donald noticed that into his belt of Mexican leather was tucked arevolver. He stared at the strangers inquiringly. 

Mr. Clark jumped out as soon as the wagon stopped, and extended hishand. 

"I do not know your name, " he said pleasantly, "but mine is Clark. Myson Donald and I have come from Boston to see the ranch. "

The man sprang forward. 

"I'm Tom Thornton, sir. What a pleasure to have a visit from you! Suchan unexpected visit, too. "

He slapped Mr. Clark heartily on the shoulder and took Donald's hand ina tight grip. 

But though he talked loudly, and laughed a great deal while carrying intheir luggage, for some reason Donald felt certain that really TomThornton was not glad to see them at all. 

[Illustration]

Chapter II

WHO SANDY WAS

The next morning both Donald and his father were astir early. 

There was nothing to keep them within the great chilly house, andeverything to lure them into the sunshine. The sky was without a cloud, and into its blueness stretched distant ranges of hazy mountains atwhose feet nestled lower hills covered with faint green. Near at handpatches of meadow were toned to grayish white by grazing bands of sheep. On the still air came the flat, metallic note of herd-bells, and thebleating of numberless unseen flocks within the pens and barns. 

What a novel scene it was!

The newcomers found their way to a sheltered corner where they couldlook out before them into the vastness. 

It was all so strange, so interesting!

Somewhere in the ravine below they could catch the rushing music of astream which wove itself in and out a maze of rolling hills and was lostat last in the shadows of the green valleys. 

As they stood silent and drank in the beauty about them, an angry voicebroke the stillness. 

It came from the interior of the barn near which they were standing. 

"I tell you what, Tom Thornton, I'm with Sandy McCulloch. The sheepalways were washed after shearing in Old Angus's day, and in Johnson'sas well. That is how Crescent Ranch came to have the good name it nowholds. There were no scabby sheep here to infect the rest of the herd. "

"What's that to you, Jack Owen? You are here to mind the boss, ain'tyou? What's the use of our working like beavers for ten days to dip theflock if we don't have to? Dipping is a dirty, tiresome job. You are notin for making work for yourself, are you?"

"The flocks will be ruined!"

"What do you care--they are not your sheep. "

"Well, I have been on this ranch a long time, Thornton, and I can't helpcaring what becomes of 'em. I take the same pride in the place Sandydoes. We have won a reputation here for doing things the way they oughtto be done--for minding the laws--for having clean, healthy stock. Sandysays he shall dip his herd, anyway. "

"Bother Sandy! He's talked to you men until he's got you all upset. Youwould have been with me if he had kept his mouth shut. But no matterwhat he says I am running this ranch at present. I mean to run it in thefuture, too. If you're wise you will do as I tell you. "

"Mr. Clark may have something to say about the dipping. "

"Don't you fret, " sneered Thornton. "I sounded him last night. He's atenderfoot. I don't believe he knows a thing about sheeping. "

Mr. Clark drew Donald into the sun-flooded field before he spoke. 

Then, after a thoughtful silence he turned:

"Well, Don?"

"I wouldn't have that Thornton here another day, father!" broke out theboy hotly. 

"Slowly, son, slowly! We must be sure about Thornton before we condemnhim. He has been ten years on the ranch; more than that, we are withouta manager, and we have none in view. Remember 'he stumbles who runsfast. ' Take time, Don, take time. "

Donald flushed. 

"I know it is the best way, but I was so angry to hear him talking thatway about you. "

"Loyalty is a fine trait, Don. " Mr. Clark laid his hand affectionatelyon his son's shoulder. "I like to see you loyal. But in this matter wemust move slowly. "

"What about this dipping, father? What is it?"

"Something about washing the sheep. I do not clearly understand itmyself. "

"Shall you have it done?"

"What do you say?"

"Of course I do not know anything about it, " Donald replied modestly, "but somehow I feel as if Sandy and the men are right. "

"I think so too. "

"Couldn't I ask Sandy what it is, father?"

"I am thinking of asking him myself, Don, if I get a good chance. "

The chance came unexpectedly, for at that very moment Sandy McCullochcame out of one of the sheep-pens and crossed the walk to the centralbarn. 

"What are you up to to-day, Sandy?" called Mr. Clark. 

"I am going to dip my flock, sir, down in the south meadow. "

"I am glad of that, for it will give us a chance to see it done, "observed Mr. Clark. Then lowering his voice he asked: "Why do you dipthe sheep, Sandy?"

"Are you asking because you want to know?" inquired Sandy with thedirectness which characterized everything he said. 

"Yes, Both Donald and I wish to learn. "

"Well, sir, it is this way. After the shearing is over and the fleeceremoved, the coat of the sheep is light and therefore easily dried. Wethen take the flocks and run them through a bath of lime and sulphur. Some shepherds prefer a coal-tar dip. Whatever the dip is made of, thepurpose is the same. It is to kill the parasites on the sheep and cureany diseases of the eyes. If sheep are not dipped they get the 'scab. 'Some bit of a creature gets under their skin and burrows until it makesthe sheep sick. Often, too, the wool will peel off in great patches. Onesheep will take it from another, until by and by the whole herd isinfected. "

Mr. Clark nodded. 

"I never mean to let a sickly sheep go on the range, " continued Sandy. "I try to flax round and find out what is the matter with him so I cancure him. We don't want our herd spoiling the feeding grounds and thewater-holes and giving their diseases to all the flocks that graze afterthem. If we are let graze on the range the least we can do is to bedecent about it--that's the way I look at it. "

"Have our sheep always been dipped?"

"Aye, sir, that they have--dipped every spring after shearing; then weclipped their feet before they started for the range. Sheep, you know, walk on two toes, and if their feet are not trimmed they get sore fromtraveling so much. I suppose nature intended sheep to climb over therocks and wear their hoofs down that way. They have a queer foot. Didyou know that there is a little oily gland between the toes to make thehoof moist, and keep it from cracking?"

"No, I guess neither Donald nor I knew that, did we, Donald? Now aboutthis dipping--do you thoroughly understand how it is done, Sandy?"

"I do that, sir. "

Donald wondered why his father was so thoughtful. 

"How long have you been at Crescent Ranch, Sandy?" asked Mr. Clark atlast. 

"Ever since I was a lad of fifteen, sir. "

"That must be about ten years!"

"Fourteen. "

A new thought came to Mr. Clark. 

"Why, then you must have known Old Angus, " he exclaimed. 

"I did, sir. "

"He was a fine old man, they tell me. "

"He was. "

"I never saw him--I wish I had. It was a great loss to the ranch and toall of us when he went. "

"It was indeed. "

"You must remember him well, Sandy. "

Throwing back his head with a gesture of pride, Sandy confronted Mr. Clark. 

"I do, sir, " he replied simply. "He was my father. "

Mr. Clark and Donald stared. 

"Why didn't you tell me that in the first place?" cried Donald's father, stepping forward eagerly and seizing the hand of the young ranchman. 

"I thought mayhap you knew it. If not--why prate about it? It's on myown feet I must stand and not on my father's. If I am of any use youwill find it out fast enough, father or no father; if I'm not 'twerebest you found that out as well. "

"Independent as your forebears, Sandy!" laughed Mr. Clark. 

"I be a McCulloch, sir!" was all Sandy said. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER III

THE DIPPING

It was a great surprise to Tom Thornton when Mr. Clark informed him thathe wanted the men to start in dipping the sheep as soon as they couldget ready. 

"I suppose, Thornton, you have everything in readiness for the work, "continued the owner casually. 

Thornton did not hesitate. 

"Yes, indeed, sir. We can start right in to-day if you wish. It is foryou to say. But really, Mr. Clark, the flock hardly needs it. Our sheepare in prime condition. "

"That's all the more reason for keeping them so, Thornton, " was thesmiling reply. 

"Of course that is true, sir. Very well. We will go ahead. I think Ishall have time to give the orders, although I have got to be in GlenCity about ten days shipping the clip. "

"What?"

"Shipping the wool, sir. "

"Oh, yes. "

"I can start the work before I go. "

"I don't think you need bother, Thornton, " remarked Mr. Clark slowly. "You go on down to Glen City and finish up your business there. "

"But somebody must see to the dipping if you really want it done. "

"I'll attend to it. "

"You!"

"Why not?"

"Why--why--nothing, sir. I beg your pardon. Only I thought you might betoo tired after your trip. "

"Oh, no. I am not tired at all. "

Thornton eyed him. 

Even Donald was astonished. 

Mr. Clark did not seem to be at all disturbed by the embarrassingstillness, but went on shaving down a stick he was whittling. 

"I do not mean to manage the dipping myself, " he explained at last. "Ishall let Sandy McCulloch take charge of it. "

"Sandy McCulloch! Why, sir, that boy could never do it in the world! Heis a good lad--well enough in his way--but not very smart. Not at alllike his father. "

"Well, if he has no ability I shall soon find it out. I mean to try him, anyway. "

"Oh, you can try him if you like, but I know the fellow better than youdo. You are foolish to turn any big work over to him. He can't handleit. "

"I intend to give him the chance. "

Thornton's annoyance began to get beyond his control. 

"Very well. It is not my business, " he snapped as he left the room. 

The instant he was gone Donald, who could not keep silent anothermoment, cried:

"Oh, father! I am so glad you are going to let Sandy manage thedipping!"

"It is an experiment, Don. Sandy is young and he may make a mess ofthings--not because he does not mean well, but because he lacksexperience. He has been here a long time, to be sure, but he never hastaken any care beyond watching his own flocks. "

"I do not think he will fail. The men will all help him. They like him. "

"I can see that. "

"And I like him too, father. "

"So do I, son. I am trusting him with this work not only because I likehim but because I feel sure that the son of such a father cannot go farastray. It was a great surprise to me when I found Sandy was the son ofOld Angus. You see we all thought so much of the old Scotchman that hewas Old Angus to everybody. I had almost forgotten he had another name. I don't think I ever heard any one call him Angus McCulloch in my life. And yet I remember the name now, for I can recall seeing it written outon checks and letters. "

"It is a fine name, " Donald declared. 

"Sandy comes of good stock. I want to help him all I can. If he has theright stuff in him perhaps we can give him a lift. I wish we might, forI feel we owe his father more than we ever can repay. "

It was great news to Sandy when he learned that not only was he to diphis own flock, but that into his hands was to be put the dipping of theentire herd. 

"I'm no so sure I can manage it, Mr. Clark, " he said modestly, lapsing, as he often did, into his broad Scotch. "I'll do the best I can though, sir. "

"I am sure you will. "

And Sandy did do his best!

The hot dip, with the proper proportions of lime and sulphur, wasprepared, and Sandy tested its temperature by seeing if he could bearhis hand in it. Then the long cement troughs were filled. These troughswere just wide enough so the sheep were not able to turn. Groups ofsheep that had been driven from the larger enclosures to the small pensnear the dipping troughs were then hurried, one by one, to the menstanding at the head of the troughs; it was the duty of these men topush each sheep in turn down the smooth metal incline into the dip. Thesheep slipped in easily. As they swam along through the steaming bathother men were posted midway and when a sheep passed they thrust thehead twice under water with their crooks so that the eyes and heads--aswell as the bodies--might be cleansed. At the far end of the troughsstill other herders helped the bedraggled creatures out onto a drainingplatform where they dripped for a time and were afterward driven backinto their pens. 

"I shouldn't think the sheep would ever dry!" Donald remarked to Sandyas they watched the process. 

"Oh, they do; only it takes a couple of days--and sometimes more beforetheir wool is thoroughly dry, " answered the Scotchman. 

Donald looked on, fascinated. 

The work proceeded without a hitch. 

The sheep were fed into the troughs, hurried on and away, only to giveplace to others. Whenever the dip cooled a fresh, hot supply was added. Within an hour Donald counted a hundred sheep swim their way through theone trough near which he chanced to be standing. 

Sandy McCulloch was everywhere at once--now here, now there, givingorders. Gladly the herders obeyed him. They all liked Sandy, not onlyfor his own sake but for the sake of Old Angus, his father, under whommost of them had worked in years past. 

"Sandy's a fine lad!" Donald heard one of the herders say. 

"There's not a better on Crescent Ranch!" was the prompt reply from agrizzled old Mexican who was ducking the heads of the herd that spedpast him. 

"He wouldn't make a bad boss of the ranch, " murmured another in anundertone. 

[Illustration: "HE WOULDN'T MAKE A BAD BOSS"]

Sandy did not hear them. He was too intent on his work. He went about itsimply, yet with his whole soul. Day after day his cheery voice couldbe heard:

"Your dip is cooling, Bernardo! Warm it up a bit. Dinna you know you'llhave your labor for your pains unless the stuff is hot as the sheep canbear it? Hurry your flock ahead there, José. Think you we want to bedipping sheep the rest of the season? If those ewes have drained offenough let the dogs drive them back to the pens. They'll rub their sidesup against the boards and cleanse the pen as well as themselves. Nowbring out the new herd that came last week from Kansas City. You'll findthem in pens seventeen and eighteen. We kept them by themselves so theywould scatter no disease through the flock. After they are dipped theycan be put with the others. "

The men took all he said good-naturedly. Sandy used no unnecessarywords, but what he did say was crisp and to the point, and the herdersliked it. They liked, too, to watch his face when his lips parted andhis glistening white teeth gleamed between them. Sandy had a verycontagious smile. He worked tirelessly, and ever as he moved about amongthe sheep two great Scotch collies tagged at his heels. Busy as he washe often bent down to pat one of the shaggy heads, and was rewarded byhaving the beautiful dogs thrust their long noses into his hand or rubup against his knees. It was amusing to Donald to watch these dogs dashafter the sheep and drive them into the pens. Sometimes they leaped onthe backs of the herd and ran the entire length of the line until theyreached the ones at the front. They then proceeded to bite the necks ofthese leaders until they turned them in the desired direction. Thisdone, the collies would run back and by nipping the heels of the sheepat the rear they would compel them to follow where they wished to havethem go. 

Donald had never seen anything like it. 

During the time that the dipping process continued he did not lack forentertainment, you may be sure. 

"You'll soon have nothing more to do, Sandy, " the boy said one nightwhen he and the Scotchman were sitting in the twilight on the steps ofthe big barn. 

"How's that, laddie?"

"Why, the dipping will be over to-morrow, won't it?"

"Yes; but that is only the beginning of trouble. We shall then put theherd out in the wet grass a while and soften their hoofs so they can betrimmed before the flocks start for the range. Then the bells must beput on, and the bands of sheep made up for the herders. "

"What do you mean by making up the herd?"

"I'll try to tell you. Sheep, you must know, are the queerest creaturesunder the blue of heaven. It ain't in the power of man to understandthem. Some minutes they are doing as you'd likely think they would; thenext thing you know they are all stampeding off by themselves, and tryas you will you cannot stop 'em. They dinna seem sometimes to have a bitof brains. "

Donald laughed. 

"Aye! You may well laugh, sitting here, but it's no so funny when theygo chasing after the leaders and jumping over the face of some cliff. Think of seeing a hundred of 'em piled up dead at your feet!"

"Did such a thing as that really ever happen, Sandy?" questioned Donaldincredulously. 

"It did so. Didn't bears get after a flock on one of the ranges anddidn't the whole lot of scared creatures start running? If they had butwaited either the dogs or the herders might have driven off the bears. But no! Nothing would do but they must run--and run they did. One afteranother they leaped over the edge of the rimrock until most of the flockwas destroyed. Folks named the place 'Pile-Up Chasm. ' It was a sorryloss to the owner. "

"But I don't see why----"

"No, nor anybody else, " interrupted Sandy. "That's the sort of thingthey do. When they are frightened they never make a sound--they justrun. If nobody heads them off they are like to run to their death; andwhen anybody does head them off it must be done carefully or the frontones will wheel about and pile up on all those coming toward them. Lotsof sheep are killed in this way. They trample each other to death. Why, once a man down in Glen City was driving a big flock along when around aturn in the road came a motor-truck. The sheep got scared and the frontones whisked straight about. That started others. Soon there was a grandmix-up--sheep all panic-stricken and tramping over each other. The ownerlost half his herd. Now you see why we have to have leaders. "

"Leaders?"

"Yes. That is one part of making up the herds. We must put some sheepthat are wiser than the rest in every flock that they may lead thestupid ones. I dinna ken where they'd be if we didn't. We take asleaders sheep that are 'flock-wise'--by that I mean old ewes or wethersthat have long been in the herds and know the ways. Sometimes, also, weput in a goat or two, for a goat has the wit to find water and food forhimself. Not so the sheep! Never a bit! You have to lead sheep clean upto grass and to water as well. They can never find anything forthemselves. "

"Do they know anything at all, Sandy?" queried Donald, laughing. 

"They do so. In some ways they are canny enough. They will scent astorm, and when one is coming never a peg will they stir to graze. Theygive a queer cry, too, when they find water--a cry to tell the others inthe flock; and if the water is brackish or tainted they make a differentsound as if to warn the herd. Sheep are very fussy about what theydrink. It's a strange lot they are, sure enough!"

"I shouldn't think they would know enough to follow their leaders evenif they had any, " remarked Donald. 

"Well, you see there is a sort of instinct born in 'em to tag after eachother. Besides, they learn to follow by playing games. Yes, indeed, "protested Sandy, as Donald seemed to doubt his words, "sheep are veryfond of games. There are a number of different ones that they play. Theone they seem to like best is 'Follow the Leader. ' I don't know as youever played it, but when I was a lad I did. "

"Of course I have played it. We used to do it at recess. "

"Well, the sheep like it as well as you, and it is a lucky thing, for itteaches them one of the very things we want them to learn. They willoften start out, one old sheep at the head, and all the others will fallinto line and do just what that sheep at the front does. So they learnthe trick of keeping their eyes on a few that are wiser than they, anddoing what the knowing ones do. They seem to have no minds of theirown--they just trail after their leaders. If we can get leaders that areable to see what we want done it is a great help. "

"I should think so!"

"When we have selected our leaders we then scatter markers through eachband of sheep. "

"And what are markers, Sandy?"

"For a marker you must take a black-faced sheep--or, mayhap, one with acrumpled horn; he must have something queer about him so you will knowhim right off when he is mixed in with the flock. We put these markersat the beginning of every hundred sheep. It makes it easier to keeptrack of the herd. "

"I'm sorry to be so stupid, Sandy, " Donald said, "but I don't think Ijust understand about the markers. "

"We have two thousand sheep in a band, " explained the herder kindly. "Now if one of our markers is missing we reckon that a hundred sheep aregone. No one sheep ever strays off by himself, you may be sure of that. When sheep stray they stray in bunches. If a marker wanders off you cansafely figure that a lot of those around him have gone too. Roughlyspeaking we call it a hundred. "

"But when you have such big bands of sheep and they are moving about Ishould not think the markers would be in the same place twice, "persisted Donald, determined to fathom this puzzling problem. 

"You dinna ken sheep, laddie! They are as jealous to keep their rightfulplace in the flock as school children are to get the first place in theline. They will fight and fight if another takes the position thatbelongs to them. It is a silly idea, but an aid to the herders. "

"And so the leaders and these markers really help the shepherds tomanage the flock?"

"Aye. But you're leaving out the shepherd's best helper. "

Sandy's face suddenly softened into tenderness. 

"His best helper?" repeated Donald. 

"Aye, laddie! His dogs!"

Bending down the Scotchman thrust his hand into the ruff of shaggy hairabout the neck of one of the collies beside him. There was a low growlfrom the other dog, who rose and rested his pointed nose on Sandy'sknee. 

The man laughed. 

"Robin, " he said, addressing the collie before him, "must you alwaystake it amiss if I have a word for Prince Charlie? You're no gentleman!Down, both of you!"

The collies crouched at his feet. 

"I never can speak to one without speaking to the other, " he went on. "They are jealous as magpies. "

"They are the finest dogs I ever saw, Sandy. "

"I pride myself there are not many like them, " agreed the herder. "Iraised them from puppies and trained them myself. Now Colin, who alsogoes with me when I go to the hills, is a good dog, but he is not myown. He belongs to the ranch. So do Victor and Hector. You never feelthe same toward them as you do with those you have brought up yourself. Robin and Prince Charlie are not to be matched in the county. But to seethem at their best you must see 'em on the range. "

"I wish I could!"

"So it's to the range you'd be going, is it? Well, well--belike when theherds are made up and we set out your father will let you go up into thehills a piece with me. "

"Oh, Sandy, " cried the boy, "would you take me? Do you suppose fatherwould let me go?"

"'Twill do no harm to ask him. I must wait, though, until I see theother herders off, and until Thornton is back from Glen City. Theflocks must have a few days' rest after the dipping. Poor things! It isa sorry time they have being dipped in that hot bath just after theyhave lost their thick, warm coats; it makes them more chilly than ever. Then, too, they sometimes get small cuts while they are being shearedand the lime and sulphur makes the bruises smart. I am always sorry forthe beasties. Yet after all I comfort myself with thinking that it isbetter they should be wretched for a little while than to be sick for along while. It is like sitting in a dark room when you have themeasles--you do not like it but you know you will be worse off if youdon't do it. "

Sandy laughed and so did Donald. 

"Then it will be several days before you start for the range, Sandy. "

"Yes. I must wait for Thornton. I can't leave your father here alone. Hemight want me. "

"You have been a great help to my father, Sandy. "

"It's little enough I've done. I would do a good sight more if the needcame. A McCulloch would do anything in his power for Crescent Ranch orits owners. "

"I believe you, Sandy. "

"You do well to believe me, lad, for I speak the living truth!"

[Illustration]

CHAPTER IV

SANDY GIVES DONALD A LESSON

During the next few days preparations for the range went steadilyforward. 

Most of the herders had been so long at Crescent Ranch that they knewexactly what to do. It was an ancient story to men who had worked underOld Angus and Johnson. 

To Donald, however, everything was new. From morning to night he trottedafter Sandy until one day the young Scotchman remarked with amischievous smile:

"You put me verra much in mind of one of my collies--I declare if youdon't!"

The boy chuckled. 

"It is all so different from anything I ever saw before, Sandy. I amfinding out so many things! Why, until yesterday I thought sheep werejust sheep--all of them the same kind. Father mentioned Merinos, and Isupposed they were all Merinos. "

"Well! Well! And so you have found out that they are not all the samekind? How many kinds have you learned about, pray?"

Donald took Sandy's banter in good part. 

"You needn't laugh, Sandy, " he said. "Lots and lots of our sheep areMerinos, aren't they?"

"Aye, laddie. Merinos are a good sheep for wool-growing. They are no sobonny--having a wrinkled skin and wool on their faces; they are small, too. But their coat is fine and long, and they are kindly. The AmericanMerinos are the best range sheep we have, because they are so hardy andstay together so well. Some sheep scatter. It seems to be in their bloodto wander about. Of course you can't take sheep like that on the range. They would be all over the state. "

"I should think it would be a great bother to cut the wool from a Merinowhen he is so wrinkly, " suggested Donald thoughtfully. 

"You show your wit--it is a bother. It takes much longer to clip themthan it does a smooth-skinned sheep. Besides, their fleece is heavy, forit contains a great deal of oil--or as we call it, yolk. But have donewith Merinos. What others did you learn about?"

"One of the herders told me about the Delaine Merinos and showed me thelong parallel fibers in their wool; he also pointed out a French Merino, or--or--a----"

"Rambouillet!" laughed Sandy. "I was waiting to hear you twist yourtongue around that word. It took me full a week to learn to say it, andeven now I never say it in a hurry. We have many a French Merino here;they belong, though, to quite a different family from the other Merinos. You will find them a much larger sheep, and their wool coarse fibered. They are great eaters, these French Merinos. "

"Like me!" cried Donald. 

"Verra like you!" agreed Sandy. "But it is no so easy filling them up. Why, they will eat a whole hillside in no time. They can beat you, too, on staying out in all sorts of weather. Here in Idaho we generally havefairly mild winters, so our sheep can be out all the year round. We havea few shacks down in the valley where we can shelter them if we havecold rains during the season. They feed down there along the river, eating sage-brush and dried hay from fall until spring. It is oftenscant picking, but if it is too scant we give them grain, alfalfa hay, or sometimes pumpkins. "

"Why, I never dreamed they stayed out all winter!" ejaculated Donald, opening his eyes. 

"In a state where it is as mild as this one they can. Then in the springwhen the shearing, dipping, and all is done, we start for the range. Wenever go, though, until the sun has baked the grass a while, for if theherd crops too early the sheep pull at the new shoots that are justtaking hold in the soil and up they come--roots and all. Then in futureyou will have no grass--just bare ground. Very early grass is bad forsheep, too. "

"What do people do where there are no ranges, Sandy?"

"Their sheep are kept in great fenced-in pastures and fed from troughsor feeding racks. They have alfalfa hay, turnips, rape, kale, corn, pumpkins and grain. The range sheep are the hardiest, though. Sheep weremade to climb and scramble over rocky places, and they are stronger andhealthier for doing it. "

"I'd rather be a range sheep!" declared Donald. 

"And I!" agreed Sandy promptly. "But you're no through telling me aboutthe sorts of sheep you learned about. Didn't anybody tell you about theCotswolds?"

Donald shook his head. 

"Oh, that's a sad pity. They are such big, grand fellows with theirwhite faces and white legs. And dinna forget the Lincolns. You will haveno trouble in knowing a Lincoln. They are the heaviest sheep we have, and their wool is long. A Lincoln is handsome as a painting; in fact I'dfar rather have one than some of the paintings I've seen. You want toget sight of one when its fleece is full! We have a scattering, too, ofLeicesters and Dorset Horns, but the Dorsets are such fighters that Idinna care much for them. They will even attack the dogs. "

"I never heard of sheep doing that!"

"Now and again they will, but not often. "

Sandy paused and began to whistle softly to himself. 

"Are--are those all the kinds of sheep, Sandy?" ventured Donald at last, after he had waited for some time and there seemed to be no prospect ofSandy coming to the end of his tune. 

"All! Hear the lad! All! Indeed and that's not all! There are Cheviotsfrom the English and Scotch hill country. You've had a cheviot suit, mayhap. Yes? Well, that's where you got it. Then there is the Tunis andthe Persian. California, Nevada, and Texas raise Persians. They are afat-tailed sheep. We never went in for them here. In England you willfind a host of other sorts of sheep that are raised on the EnglishDowns; most of them are short-haired and are raised not so much fortheir wool as for their mutton. There are Southdowns, Hampshire Downs, Sussex, Oxfords, Shropshire Downs, and the Dorset Horns. We always likesome Shropshires in our herd. "

"Oh, Sandy, " groaned Donald with a wry smile, "I never, never canremember all these kinds. "

"Dinna shed tears about it, laddie. The wool will keep growing on theirbacks just the same. But it's likely that you'll never again be thinkingthat a sheep is just a sheep!"

"Indeed I shan't!"

"As for myself, " went on Sandy, "I like all kinds; I like the smell ofthem, and being with them on the range. You'll like the range, too, ifyour father lets you go. You'll like the big sky, the crisp air, and thepeace of it. "

"I hope he will let me go. "

"Dinna fear! We will ask him to-night or to-morrow. Thornton will beback to-morrow. Then we'll be getting ready the wagons and our own kit. "

"What wagons?"

"Did you no see the canvas-topped wagons in the barn? Verra like gipsywagons they are. We call them prairie schooners because they are thesort of wagon the first settlers crossed the country in. Ships of theDesert they were indeed! In the West we use them even now. When we go tothe range three of these wagons go along part way and carry the food, establishing what we call central camps. From these camps provisions arebrought to us. "

"Don't you come down for your food!" exclaimed Donald, aghast. 

"Nay, nay! Never a bit! When we are off, we're off! We never turn backuntil fall. Our food is sent to us on the range three times a week. Acamp-tender comes on horseback bringing supplies on a packhorse or on alittle Mexican burro. If we are not too far up in the hills this tenderfetches the food all the way; if we are, he leaves it in some spotagreed upon and we go down and get it, leaving the flocks in care of thedogs. The schooners stay near enough to the home ranch so they can goback and forth now and then and get restocked. We ourselves take a fewpots and pans to the range--just enough so we can cook our meals. It islike camping out anywhere else. "

"I love camping!" cut in Donald. 

"Then you'll like the range for certain. "

"I know I shall. I hope I can go. What a lot I am learning, Sandy!Pretty soon I shall know more about sheep-raising than father does!"

"Dinna fret yourself about your father, " was Sandy's dry retort. "Heneeds no pity. He can take care of himself. "

Tom Thornton, however, did not seem to agree with Sandy's estimate ofhis employer. The moment he was back from Glen City he sought out Mr. Clark who, with Donald, was sitting before the fire in the barrenliving-room. 

"The clip is off for the East at last, Mr. Clark, " he said. "It islikely you will be following it soon yourself now that you have castyour eye over the ranch and found it running all right. Have you come toany decision as to who you'll appoint as manager?"

Thornton glanced keenly at the ranch owner as he put his question. 

"I do not think I shall appoint any manager at present, Thornton, "replied Mr. Clark slowly. "I am in no haste to return East. Donald and Iare enjoying our holiday here tremendously and for a while, at least, Ithink I shall stay and manage Crescent Ranch myself. "

Thornton drew a quick breath. 

It was evident that he was amazed and none too well pleased. 

"It is hard work, sir--especially when you are not used to it. "

"I am accustomed to hard work. "

"The men will take advantage of you, sir--if I may be so bold as to sayso. They know you were not brought up to sheeping. They will impose onyou and shirk their duties. "

"I am not afraid, Thornton, " was the calm reply. "I have had a chance totest what they would do when they were dipping the sheep. It was asthorough a piece of work as one would wish to see done, and wentsmoothly as a sled in iced ruts. I never saw better team-work. Sandydirected things most ably. "

"Sandy does well enough at times, " was Thornton's grudging answer, "butyou are depending on him too much. You may regret it later. "

"I doubt it. "

Thornton turned. 

"Wait and see, " was his curt reply. 

After he had gone out Donald rose and came to his father's side. 

"Thornton doesn't like Sandy, father. "

"I am afraid he doesn't, Don. "

"Why?"

"Think of a reason. "

"Because Sandy is the son of Old Angus--is it that?"

"Possibly, " responded Mr. Clark, "and yet I think it is not whollythat. "

"Because Sandy is so good?"

"Perhaps. "

"Because we both like Sandy so much?" persisted the boy. 

"I shouldn't wonder. "

"Well, I don't see how any one could help liking Sandy! He is the bestman on the place. He knows so much, and is so full of fun, father! Andhe is so kind to his dogs and to the sheep! Why, I believe he lovesevery sheep on Crescent Ranch. "

"I am sure of it. "

There was a silence. 

"Father, " burst out Donald when he could bear the silence no longer, "Ibelieve Thornton wants you to appoint him manager of our ranch. "

Mr. Clark's face lighted with pleasure. 

"I am glad to hear you call it our ranch, Don, " he said. "I want you togrow up and go to college and afterward I wish you to choose some usefulwork in the world. Whatever honorable thing you elect to do I shallgladly help you to carry out. But if it happened--not that I should everurge it--but if it happened that by and by you wanted to take part ofthe care of this ranch on your shoulders it would make me very glad. "

"I am sure I should like to, " cried Donald impulsively. 

"No, no, " his father responded, shaking his head. "Do not give yourword so thoughtlessly. It is a serious matter to choose what you will doin life. You must take a long time to think about it--years, perhaps. You are only fourteen. There will be many an idea popping in and out ofyour head between now and the time you are twenty. Just stow the thoughtaway; take it out sometimes, turn it over, and put it back again. "

"I will, father. "

"And now, just for a moment, let us suppose you really are twenty andare helping me with the ranch. The first thing we should be doing nowwould be trying to make up our minds about this new manager. "

"Yes, I suppose we should. "

"What should you say about that?"

"I wouldn't appoint Thornton, father!"

His father smiled at the instant decision. 

"You must not be so positive in condemning Thornton, Don. We must becareful that we are right before we turn him down. To have the care ofCrescent Ranch is a responsible position. We want a faithfulman--somebody we can trust when we are in the East; somebody who willrun the ranch exactly as if we were here. "

"Thornton wouldn't!"

"That is what I am trying to find out, " Mr. Clark said. 

"Have you anybody in mind, father--anybody beside Thornton?"

Mr. Clark fingered his watch-chain. 

"I am watching my men, Don. It is the little things a man does ratherthan the big things that tell others what he is. Remember that. Watchthe little things. "

"I didn't know you were watching anybody at all, " avowed Donald. "Youdid not seem to be doing much but wander round and have a good time. "

"I am glad of that, " answered his father. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER V

THORNTON HAS A REPRIMAND

Donald had now been long enough at the ranch so that he had discovered anumber of ways in which he could be of use. Most of his efforts, to besure, were confined to aiding Sandy; but as Sandy had almost more workthan he could do he greatly appreciated the boy's help. Donald carriedmeal to the feeding-troughs, fed the dogs, ran errands, and carriedmessages from one pasture to another. He was not a little proud when oneday Sandy bestowed on him the title of first assistant. To think ofbeing the assistant of Sandy McCulloch! Donald's heart bounded! Ofcourse he got tired. The days were long and the work was real. It was, however, good wholesome work in the open air--work that made his musclesache at first and then grow steadily stronger. 

One evening after he had put in an unusually active day and was sittingin the lamplight with his father Sandy came to the door of the room andasked:

"Might I come in and speak to you and Donald, Mr. Clark?"

Mr. Clark laid down his book. He always enjoyed a talk with Sandy. 

"Certainly, " he answered. "Come up by the fire, Sandy. The chillyevenings still hang on, don't they?"

"They do so. I'm thinking, Mr. Clark, that now Thornton is back again itis time I started for the range. Some of the herders have gone already, as you know; the rest will be off to-morrow. I ought to be getting underway soon if I want to land my flock in high, cool pasturage before theheat comes. "

"Very true, Sandy. I have kept you behind because your aid in startingoff the wagons and the other herders was invaluable. But, as you say, there is no need to detain you longer. How soon could you get away?"

"I could start to-morrow if I had my permit. "

"How is that?"

"As you remember, sir, we must have permits to graze on the range. Youhave paid enough money to the government to realize that. "

"Yes, indeed. And I never grudge the money, either. "

"What are permits, Sandy?" put in Donald eagerly. 

"Well, laddie, long ago people who raised horses and sheep wandered overall the mountainsides with their herds, and fed them wherever grass wasplenty. It was free land. Anybody could graze there. It was a fine thingfor a man with thousands of sheep not to have to pay a cent for theirfood, wasn't it?"

"Of course. "

"You would have thought there would have been enough for everybody tofeed their stock peaceably, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, indeed!"

"Well now, it didn't work out so at all. The sheepmen and the cattlemencame to actual war. The cattlemen declared that their herds would notgraze where the sheep had been because of some queer odor the sheep leftbehind them; they argued, moreover, that sheep gnawed the grass off soclose to the roots that they destroyed the crop and left barren land. The sheepmen, on the other hand, complained because the cattle--lovingto stand in the water--waded into the water-holes and spoiled them. Eachfaction tried to crowd the other off the range. Dreadful thingshappened. Vaqueros, or cowboys, would dash on horseback right into themidst of a flock and scatter the sheep in every direction. Often many ofthe sheep fled into the hills and their owners never could find themagain. Or sometimes the cowboys would drive the sheep ahead of them overhigh precipices. Cattlemen, being on horseback, had a great scorn forsheep-herders, who were obliged to trail their flocks on foot. The feudbetween the two varieties of stock-raisers became worse and worse. "

Donald listened breathlessly. 

"More men took up stock-raising as time went on, and in consequence moreherds were turned onto the range. Soon the results began to show. Theyoung trees of the forest lands were trampled down, or nibbled anddestroyed; water-holes, which the settlers had used as their watersupply, began to be polluted; homesteaders, who had built houses andsettled in the sheep-raising districts, were driven off the range andhad no place where they could be sure of feeding their flocks. The worstevil, though, was that one band of sheep after another would feed in thesame spot. The first flock would nip off the top of the grass; the nextflock had to eat it closer in order to get food enough; and when thelast flocks came they burrowed into the earth with their sharp noses anddug the grass up by the roots. Whole stretches of land that had oncebeen green and beautiful were left bare so that nothing would grow onthem for years and years. Cattle do not eat the turf so close as that, and I do not wonder that the vaqueros complained, do you?"

"I should think they would have!" agreed Donald heartily. 

"Then, too, the sheep have small, sharp hoofs, you know; these hoofs cutthrough the soil so that if many sheep travel over a place they grindthe earth to powder. Well, that is just what happened. The sheep leftthe hillsides nothing but patches of brown dust. Things went on from badto worse until our government stepped in. "

Donald kept his eyes intently on Sandy's face. 

"What could our government do?" he asked earnestly. 

"Well, it could do a good many things, and it did. First, it took about160, 000, 000 acres of land as National Forests. It was no longer freepasture. It belonged to the United States. "

"I should think the herders would have been pretty cross about that!"

"They were. You can see just how they felt. They made their living byraising stock, and to be deprived of pasturage angered them. At firstthe government intended to stop all herds from feeding in these NationalReserves. They thought it was time to protect the forests that we mightnot have floods, landslides, and forest fires. They called it conservingthe forests. Afterward, though, they considered that the western peoplemade their living by raising cattle and sheep, and they worked out aplan whereby every owner who wanted to graze on the range should pay acertain sum to the United States Government for a permit, and should beallotted a particular pasture for his herd. The only restriction wasthat if an owner was granted a permit he must promise to obey the rulesof the range. It was a wise and just arrangement. Only a certain numberof sheep are now allowed to graze on a given area; there is thereforeplenty of grass and no need for the flocks to eat the herbage down closeand destroy it. The money for the permits, in the meantime, goes to thegovernment, and enriches the United States treasury. Much of this moneyis spent in paying men to work on the range and better the conditionsthere, so really it comes back to the people who pay it. "

"I understand, " Donald replied quickly, when Sandy paused for breath. "It is very interesting isn't it, father? But I do not see how they canprevent herders who have no permits from grazing on the range. "

"They ought not to have to prevent them!" answered Sandy, hotly. "Theherders ought to be decent enough to obey the law. If you are granted afavor you ought to be a gentleman in accepting it. Now I'm born ofgenerations of shepherds--poor country folk they were, too; but mypeople ever had a sense of honor--they were gentlemen. "

Sandy drew himself up and threw back his head as he spoke the words. 

"I cannot imagine a McCulloch being anything but a gentleman, Sandy, "said Mr. Clark, who had been listening carefully to Sandy's story of therange. 

Sandy was pleased. 

"It's many would not think so, Mr. Clark, " he replied, as he stretchedout his rough, brown hands. 

"One can tell nothing from hands, " laughed Mr. Clark. "The heart is thething that tells the tale. A clean, honest heart makes a gentleman, andno one is a gentleman without it. "

"But you are not telling me how they kept the herders without permitsoff the range, " put in Donald mischievously. 

"I almost forgot. The question always ruffles me. You did a bad thing tostir me up about it. I'll tell you. The United States had to putsoldiers on the range--think of it--soldiers to protect the governmentfrom its own people! And when the government was working to help thosevery people, too. They called these soldiers rangers. It was their dutyto patrol the dividing line of the National Reserves. Every herder whopassed in must show his permit and let the ranger see that he had withhim no more sheep than he ought to have. That was fair, wasn't it?"

"Perfectly!" nodded Donald. 

"Alack! It is a sad thing that there are people in the world who do notlove their country well enough to obey her laws. If they are too stupidto see the laws are for their good why can't they trust the government?Here the government was going to give the herders better pastures andkeep their flocks from being molested in them. Wouldn't you think a manwith a grain of sense would see the wisdom of the plan!" Sandy's temperbegan to rise once more. "But no! The herders just felt the rangers whohad been stationed to carry out the laws were enemies who had taken awaytheir freedom. So when the rangers did not see them they tried every wayto steal into the reserves without permits. Two men would start withtheir flocks; one would take the attention of the ranger by showing hispermit and while the ranger was busy with him the other man would slideinto the reserve far down the line where he was not noticed. "

"What a mean trick!" cried Donald. "And what if the ranger happened tosee him?"

"Oh, he would gallop after him and ride into his flock, scattering itevery which way as he tried to drive the sheep out of the reserve. Oftenthe herder would lose hundreds of them. "

"Served him right!"

"That's what I think, too, " grinned Sandy. "The like are not all deadyet either--worse luck! And this brings me back to the matter of mypermit, Mr. Clark. We are two permits short, sir. The new herds thatcame from Kansas City are not counted into our old rating. Did you thinkof that? Having more sheep this year we must pay in more money. Youdidn't happen to remember, did you, to get permits for those extraflocks?"

"No, Sandy, I didn't; but of course Thornton has attended to it. See, here he comes. We will ask him. Thornton, " he called, as the big fellowpassed the door, "what are we going to do about permits for the newherds? They are not included in the tax we now pay. "

"Don't you worry about more permits, Mr. Clark. I can save you a pennyon that, " declared Thornton with a knowing wink. "You pay the governmentenough as it is. Leave it to me, sir. I'll see that the herds get intothe range all right, and that it costs you no more. When Sandy goes inhe can talk with the ranger. All the rangers know him and they neverwill suspect him. In the meantime Owen can take the Kansas City herd andslip in further down the line. There is no danger of our being caught. Many a herder has done it and had no trouble. "

"There will be no sliding sheep into the reserves without permits whileI own Crescent Ranch, Thornton, " said Mr. Clark sternly. "We will paywhat we owe the government or we will keep fewer sheep. "

"I was only trying to save you money, sir, " Thornton hastened toexplain. 

"You took a very poor method to do it, " was Mr. Clark's cold reply. "Themoney part of wool-growing is not your care. You are here to raise sheepin conformity to the laws of your country. "

"A mighty poor set of laws they are, " grumbled Thornton sullenly. 

"You may not like them, but they are for your good nevertheless, andsince you are an American it is up to you to obey them. I keep no man inmy employ who is not--before everything else--a good citizen. "

Thornton flushed, but made no reply. 

Then darting an angry glance at Sandy from beneath his shaggy brows, heleft the room. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER VI

DONALD'S FIRST ADVENTURE ON THE RANGE

After Donald went to bed that night Mr. Clark and Sandy had a long talkand the next morning when Donald came to breakfast the first questionhis father asked was:

"How would you like to start for the range with Sandy, son, when thepermits come?"

"Oh, father! Will you really let me? I have wanted so much to go! I am agood walker, you know, and I am used to camping. Besides, I should liketo be with Sandy, " he added shyly. 

"I am convinced that you could be with no better young fellow in theworld, Don, than to be with Sandy McCulloch, " replied Mr. Clark warmly. "Yes, I am going to let you go. I want you to help Sandy, however, allthat you can. You must not be an idler and make extra trouble. You musttake hold and do part of the work if you go. Do not think, " he addedkindly, "that I consider you a lazy lad, for you are far from it. Youhave been a great help on the ranch since you came. I have not beenignorant of many thoughtful things that you have been doing to help. Isimply wish to remind you that on the range Sandy will have all he cando. In the midst of your pleasure do not forget your obligation to beuseful. If you keep your eyes open you will see things that you can do, just as you have seen them here. You will have a thoroughly good time onthe range, and I am glad to have you go. A little later I may want youto come back to the ranch to help me. You will be willing to do that, won't you?"

"Of course, father, I'll come whenever you send for me!" was the instantresponse. "But what are you going to do while I am gone? Can't you cometoo?"

"I'm afraid not. I do not see how I can leave things here just now. Provisions must be portioned out and sent to the central camps. Thenthere are many repairs to be made and I must attend to those. I wish, also, to look over the books while I am here. You see I have plenty todo. When I get my work done I may ride up into the hills and join youand Sandy. "

"I wish you would, " answered Donald. Then he added thoughtfully:"Father, if I stayed and helped you, could you get away any sooner?"

The older man smiled at the boy. 

"That is generous of you, Donald boy. I appreciate it. No, I do not seehow you could help me by remaining. You go with Sandy and when I needyou I will send for you. In the meantime Thornton and I will get on verywell here. "

"Thornton! Isn't he going to the range with one of the new herds?"

"Not at present. There is a great deal of work to be done here. I preferto keep him to help me. "

"I wish you would have somebody else to help you and let Thornton takethe herd, father. "

"I think he is better here. "

"Very well. You know best, " declared Donald. "Shall you really feel allright if I go with Sandy?"

"Yes, indeed. I want you to learn every phase of ranch life that youcan. Then if anything ever decided you to take up wool-growing as abusiness you would come to it with a knowledge I never had. It would befar more interesting on that account. If, on the other hand, you decidedon some other work in life you at least would have learned something ofone of the great industries of our country and would be a broader-mindedcitizen in consequence. "

"I am sure I should, father. Why, ever since I have seen how big Americais I am lots prouder that I am an American. "

His father smiled at his enthusiasm, then added gently:

"Yes, but size is not everything. It is what a country is doing, ortrying to do, to better the conditions of her people that makes hertruly great. You know some of the things that are done to make lifehappy, healthful, and comfortable for those who live in our cities. Nowgo out on the range. Look about you. See all that thoughtful, far-seeingmen are doing to protect our forests, hillsides, streams; see how ourgovernment is entering into the life of those who live not in cities buton farms and ranches. You will find our country is doing much on therange beside merely issuing permits for us to graze there. "

"What sort of things?"

"Sandy knows; he'll show you. In spite of the fact that he was born aScotchman he is as good an American as I know. He appreciates thebenefits of this wonderful land enough to desire to be a helpful, law-abiding citizen. He does not accept all the advantages Americaoffers without giving something in return, you see. "

"Sandy is too proud to take everything for nothing, father. "

"He is also too honest, son. Now go and get your camping traps together. I expect by afternoon to have a telegram that will answer in place ofpermits until they can be mailed to us. As soon as they come you andSandy can start off; and in case they do not come to-day I can send themafter you by a mounted messenger. So I think you'd better set outanyway. Wear your tramping shoes and carry your sleeping-bag. You betterask Sandy if there is anything else he wants you to take. "

Donald needed no second bidding. 

He was in the highest of spirits. 

An hour later and he had said good-bye to his father and Thornton, andwas on his way to the range with Sandy McCulloch. At their backs a bandof about two thousand sheep ambled along, the four dogs, Robin, PrinceCharlie, Colin, and Hector, dashing in and out among them to keep thestragglers well in the path. 

The trail Sandy was following led across the open fields and ascendinggradually, made for the chain of low hills faintly outlined in thefar-away blue haze. Beyond these hills loomed more distant mountains, their tops capped with snow. These mountains, Sandy told Donald, werethe foot-hills of the Rockies. 

It was quite evident that Sandy was now in his element. He swung alongwith slow but steady gait, carrying his pack easily and swinging hisstaff. His eye was alert for every movement of the flock. Now he wouldturn and draw some straying creature into place by putting his crookaround one of its back legs. Sometimes he would motion the dogs to drivethe herd along faster. 

To an eastern-bred lad who had lived all his life in a city the scenewas wonderfully novel. The great blue stretch of sky seemed endless. Howstill the country was! Had it not been for the muffled tramp of hoofs, the low bleating of the herd, the flat-toned note of the sheep-bells, there would not have been a sound. The quiet of the day cast its spelleverywhere. Sandy, who was usually chary enough of his words, preservedeven a stricter silence. Although his lips were parted with a contentedsmile, only once did he venture to break the quiet and that was when hesoftly hummed a bar or two of "There Were Hundred Pipers"--a favoritesong of his. 

At last Donald, who was bubbling over with questions, could bear it nolonger. 

"Are you always so quiet, Sandy, when you go to the range?" he asked. 

The Scotchman roused himself. 

"Why, laddie, I was almost forgetting you were here! Aye, being with aflock is a quiet life. You have nobody to talk to on the range--nobodyexcept the dogs; so you fall into the way of thinking a heap and sayingbut little. I like it. Some herders, though, find it a hard sort ofexistence. Many a man has sat alone day after day on the range, watchingthe sheep work their way in and out of the flock until in his sleep hecould picture that sea of gray and white moving, moving, moving! It wasalways before him, sleeping or waking. It is a bad thing for a shepherdto get into that state of mind. We call it getting locoed. "

"What does that mean?"

"You must know that on the hills grows a weed called loco-weed. Sometimes the sheep find and eat it, and it makes them dull andstupid--you know how you feel when you take gas to have your teethpulled. Yes? Well, it's like that. We never let the herd get it if wecan help it, and if they do we drive them away from it. They will goright back again, too, and eat more if you do not watch them. That'swhat loco-weed is. "

"And the shepherds?"

"When a man gets dull and stupid by being alone so much, and sees sheepall the time--even when his eyes are shut--the best thing he can do isto leave the range. Some folks can stand being alone, others can't. Why, I have known of herders being alone until they actually wouldn'ttalk--they couldn't. They didn't want to speak or be spoken to and wereready to shoot any one who came upon them on the range and disturbedthem. Once I knew of a herder leaving a ranch because the boss saidgood-morning to him. He complained that things were getting toosociable. "

"I should think the herders would like to see people when they are aloneso much. "

"Aye. Wouldn't you! But no. In Wyoming there is a law that no herdershall be sent out alone to tend flocks; men must go in pairs. More thanthat they must have little traveling libraries of a few books. Thereason for that is to prevent them from sitting with their eyes fixedvacantly on the moving sheep all the time. It is a good law. Some time, likely, they will have it in all the states. "

"I mean to tell father about it. We could do that at our ranch easily, "said Donald. "Do you get lonely on the range, Sandy?"

"Nay, nay, laddie. It is many a year that I have been alone on thehills. I love it. There is always plenty to do. Sometimes I play tuneson my harmonica. Again I'll spend weeks carving flowers and figures on astaff. Then I have my dogs, and they are rare company. I sleep a goodpart of the day, you know, and watch the flock at night. "

"But I should think you would sleep at night. "

"I couldn't do that. "

"Why not?"

"Because there is more danger to the sheep at night. It is then that thewild creatures steal down and attack the herds. "

"Wild creatures?"

"Bears, bob-cats, cougars, and coyotes. "

"On the range!" cried Donald. 

"Where else?"

"But I never thought of such animals being on the range!" murmured theboy. 

Sandy flashed him a smile. 

"You're no in a city park here, laddie, " he observed emphatically. "There are all sorts of prowling creatures abroad at night. They are notafter us--never fear. It is the poor, helpless sheep they are after. "

"Do you suppose, Sandy, that I shall see a bear?" asked Donald, his eyessparkling. 

"Verra likely. For your sake I hope you may; for the sake of the herd Ihope not. I have seen many on the range and have shot not a few. Down atthe ranch I have a long chain made of bears' claws. "

Donald's eyes opened wider and wider. 

"I'd like to see a bear, " cried he. "Just see him, you know--not havehim hurt the sheep. "

"Mayhap you'll get your wish. "

Thus--now talking, now lapsing into big, silent pauses, Donald and Sandyjogged on. At sundown they stopped for the night near a water-hole andhere the flock was refreshed by a draught from a clear mountain stream. Then Sandy unpacked his saucepans, built a fire, and fried bacon whichhe laid--smoking hot--between two slices of bread. Was ever a meal sodelicious, Donald wondered! Supper finished, the little portable tentwas set up, more wood heaped on the fire, and the camp pitched for thenight. Donald was tired out. After the sheep were bedded down aroundthem, he crept only too gladly into his sleeping-bag and was soonoblivious of the range, the herd, and even Sandy himself. 

 * * * * *

When he awoke it was with a sense of being cramped within a small space. He opened his eyes. It took him a few moments to collect his wits andremember where he was. Ah, yes! Here was the little low tent over hishead, and just outside blinked the embers of the fire where he and Sandyhad cooked their supper. 

[Illustration: THEY STOPPED FOR THE NIGHT]

He sat up softly and peered out into the night. 

The country was flooded with moonlight in the brilliancy of which theridges of the far-off hills stood out clearly; even the pool in themidst of the pasture caught the radiance and gleamed like a mirror. Butamid all the beauty a subtle feeling of solitude oppressed him. Itseemed as if he was the only being in the whole world. 

Further out he leaned. 

Then he started suddenly. 

All that great sea of human creatures that had surrounded him when hewent to sleep had vanished!

Not a sheep was to be seen. 

Thoroughly alarmed, he turned. 

"Sandy!" he called. "Sandy!"

There was no reply. 

With growing apprehension he thrust out his hand in the direction wherethe herder had been lying. 

The chill of the cold earth met his touch. 

Terrified he sprang to his feet and bent down in the darkness. 

There was no one with him in the tent! Sandy and the herd were gone!

For a while Donald stood very still. He was really alone, then--alone, miles from the home ranch, and not knowing the way back again! This washis first thought. The next was of Sandy. 

All that Thornton had hinted flashed into his mind. Sandy was not to betrusted, Thornton had told his father. If they placed any dependence onthe young Scotchman they would some time regret it. 

Had Sandy deceived him?

What possible object could he have, Donald asked himself, in so quietlydeparting with the sheep and leaving him behind?

At least he had left the tent. 

Had he taken the food and rifles with him?

With beating heart Donald scrambled for his match-box and made a light. 

No, there was the knapsack of provisions, the saucepan, the coffee-pot!In the corner, too, stood his own rifle. But Sandy's rifle was missing. 

Donald reflected a moment. 

Sandy must be coming back. Ah, that was it! But where had he gone? Whyshould he rise up in the middle of the night, take the flock and dogs, and steal off in this noiseless fashion? The boy could not solve theenigma. 

For the present, at least, there was nothing to be done. He glanced athis watch. It was three o'clock. He turned into his sleeping-bag again, having first taken the precaution to put his rifle within easy reach. Yet try as he would he could not sleep. His eyes stared, broad awake, atthe shadowy dome of the tent. He wished it was day. 

As he lay there straining his ears for the cadence of approachingherd-bells he was conscious of a muffled sound--a dull, soft footfall, as if some one was loitering stealthily about the tent. He heard itagain. Then he could distinctly hear a sniffing at the corner of thetent near which the provisions lay. 

Donald's heart leaped to his throat. 

He could feel the blood pounding under his ears. 

Who was coming so near with that velvety tread?

Noiselessly he wriggled out of his sleeping-bag and stood behind theflap of the tent, rifle in hand. Then he heard the unmistakable pantingof some heavy creature--some creature so close to him that he coulddetect the rhythm of every breath it drew. Shaking in every limb hestole a look outside. Just beside the opening of his shelter he couldsee, clearly defined in the moonlight, a thick, dark shadow outlined onthe grass. It was cast by some beast that was halting near the doorway. 

In another second it would be upon him. 

The boy caught his breath. 

There was no time to think. 

Raising his rifle, he fired at the great dark mass. Again he fired!

Had he struck the mark?

Another instant would tell. 

The creature would either roll over wounded, or would spring upon him. 

He jammed back the trigger of his rifle. The tremor that had swept overhim at first now left his hand. His arm was perfectly steady, his bloodswinging in quick throbs through his body. He fired a third time. 

There was a heavy thud, the rolling of a black mass on the ground, agasp, a growl! Then all was quiet. 

Still Donald dared not take any chances. He poured another round of shotinto his victim. It did not move. 

Then cautiously he crept outside, his rifle tight in his grasp. 

There on the ground a shaggy object lay motionless. 

He went nearer. 

Then he gave a shout of astonishment. 

It was a bear!

He had shot a bear--he, Donald Clark, alone and unaided, had really shota bear! What a story to tell his father; and Sandy, too; and the fellowsat home!

Then, for the first time, he was conscious of a trembling in his arms. His knees felt strangely weak. Now that the excitement was over herealized that he wanted to sit down. His rifle slipped from his fingersand he dropped to the turf. There he rested in a dazed sort of way andreviewed the tragedy. Suppose he had not been awake? Suppose the bearhad come into the tent while he lay there asleep and unarmed? In hisheart he felt very grateful for his escape. 

Then there followed a disquieting thought--suppose there were otherbears! He had often read of their coming in groups of fives and sixes. It was no time for him to sit limply on the ground. He caught up hisrifle and recharged its empty chambers. Then before the tent door he satuntil sunrise, anxiously scanning the dim pasture-land and the distantrocky fastnesses. It seemed as if the day would never come. 

Presently across the intervale he caught the faint tinkle of herd-bells. Over the brim of rolling green just ahead of him came the flock, Sandyleading them, and the collies nipping at their heels. The herder stroderapidly forward, waving his sombrero as he came. Donald ran to meethim. 

"Are you safe and sound, laddie?" called Sandy when he got withinshouting distance. "I have had a thousand minds about you--whether Iought not to have waked you, tired as you were, and taken you with me;or whether it was better to let you sleep. You see when the full moonrose the sheep set out grazing. It's a trick they have. Many a time theyhave done it; when they once set out no power on earth will stop them. So the dogs and I had to go along too. I reckoned you would sleep untilwe got back. The herd went farther, though, than I thought they would. Ihad great trouble rounding them up. "

As he talked they neared the camp where Sandy's keen eye took in at aglance every detail of the scene before him. Then he looked sharply atDonald. Under the thick tan the boy could see him pale. His lips becamelivid. 

"Donald, lad, you are not hurt?" he cried, motioning to the bear thatlay stretched on the grass. 

"No, Sandy, not a bit. Truly I'm not. See! Isn't he a big one?"

"He is many a size too big for a boy like you to be fighting alone. Iwas a blind idiot to leave you behind me. Thank the good Lord you gotoff without a scratch. When I think of what might have come to you----!The next time I'll no go grazing without you, Don. But who would havethought of a bear venturing into these lowlands! He must have been veryhungry. "

Later Donald had to relate every part of his adventure, and they skinnedthe black bear and spread his hide out in the sun. 

"His coat is thicker than that of most bears at this season of the year. It will make a bonny rug for your father's office, Don. When thecamp-tender comes we will send it back by him to the home ranch. Thornton can get it cured for you at Glen City and it will be a sightlypresent for your father. You are a son worth having!"

"I want to be, Sandy. "

"Dinna bother your head. I've seen full a dozen lads worse than you!"was the grim reply. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER VII

A NARROW ESCAPE

It was not long before Donald felt almost as at home in the hill countryas did Sandy himself. They pitched camp and stayed in one place untilthe grazing began to get scarce; then they "pulled up" and tramped on. Sandy knew the region well and was therefore seldom at a loss to findwater-holes. During the night they watched the flock, and as soon as theherd had fed in the morning and was ready to come to rest they left thedogs on guard and slept. Donald usually slept soundly, for the fresh airand exercise kept him in perfect health. Sandy, on the other hand, slept with one eye open--or one ear open--the boy could never quitedecide which it was. But the result was the same; by some mysteriousmeans Sandy was always conscious of every move of his flock. 

Donald never tired of watching the young Scotchman. What a picture hewas in his flannel blouse, open at the throat; his baggy trousers andsheepskin belt; his sombrero with its band of Mexican leather; and thefield-glasses slung over his shoulder! From these glasses, his rifle, and his crook he was seldom parted. His great knuckles, broad from thegrasp of his staff, were like iron; and his lithe, wiry body was neverweary. And yet with all his strength Sandy was the gentlest of men withhis sheep. 

To his dogs he was a god! Still, with all their devotion, the colliesevidently understood that the sheep were their first care and they neverdeserted their watch to accompany Sandy when he went on a hunt forwater-holes or more abundant feeding grounds. They were wonderfullyintelligent animals--these collies. Donald constantly marveled at theircleverness. They were quick in singling out the slow or wayward sheepand would bite their heels to hurry them along. They also recognized theleaders and it was to them that they communicated the directions Sandygave them. Yet Sandy seldom spoke to his dogs. A motion of his arm andthey would spring forward and follow out his wish. Only when hecommanded it did they bark. With their drooping, bushy tails and sharpnoses they reminded Donald far more of wolves than dogs. Sandy was kindto all of them, but it was Robin and Prince Charlie of which he was mostfond. They had been bred from dogs his father had brought from the OldCountry, he explained to Donald. There were few persons in the world forwhom he cared so much. Once when Robin had been lost on the range theherder had traveled the hills three whole days to find him. 

"What makes shepherd dogs so different from other dogs, Sandy?" askedDonald one day. 

"Some of it is in their blood. They seem to want to herd sheep--theycan't help it. Then some of the credit of a fine sheep dog is due tohis training. Why, I was months working over Robin and the Prince. I hadthem with goats and sheep from the time they were born. As soon as theywere big enough I began teaching them to come when I called 'em. A gooddog has got to learn to come to you when you speak. If he has done wronghe has got to come and be punished. Some dogs will run away when theysee that you have caught them doing the wrong thing. You cannot let asheep dog do that. "

"But how do you train them so they won't?"

"I will tell you. It seems a heartless sort of way, but I had to do it. I tied them with a long piece of rope; then I called them. As soon asthey came I spanked them good and hard, and afterward I'd pat them andgive them a scrap of meat. They understood in time. They would comeanyway--sure thing. If I whacked 'em it was all the same to them. By andby when they got so they would mind, I didn't have to whack 'em, and nowit is seldom I lay hand to 'em. It was no pleasure to me, I can tellyou, and I quit it just as soon as I felt sure they would walk up likegentlemen whenever I spoke, no matter if they knew beforehand that theywere to be whipped. You can see why this had to be, Don. Of course youknow such dogs have the nature of wolves. In fact the better theshepherd dog, the more like a wolf he is. Now a wolf is a born enemy ofsheep. Sometimes the wolf in a shepherd dog will get the better of himand he will turn about and kill the lambs instead of guarding them. If asheep-dog is once a killer he has to die. You can never be sure of himagain. So you cannot turn a dog loose on the range unless he will cometo you when you speak. "

"I suppose he might start killing sheep and you would not be able to getcontrol of him, " ventured Donald, much interested. 

"That is just it! He must come even if he knows he is to be shot thenext minute. There is no safety for the sheep unless it is so. My dogswould come to me willy-nilly. "

"Isn't it wonderful?"

"Yes, unless you have been months and months, as I was, getting them todo it; and even then it is rather wonderful. But a thing quite aswonderful as that is that they know every sheep in the flock. Let a ewefrom another fold come in and they will scent her quick as lightning. And there is something else they will do: they understand well asourselves that sheep will walk right over ledges and into pits, oneafter another; so the collies will stand guard at the edges of suchplaces and warn 'em off. What is that but human, I ask you?"

Donald nodded. 

"The men down at Crescent say, " went on Sandy smiling broadly, "that Iam daffy about dogs--my own dogs most of all. Well, haven't I cause?There is not a shepherd in this part of the country but would swap hiscollies for mine; or they'd buy them. I've been offered many a dollarfor the two. But I'm no swapping my dogs, nor selling them, either!Sometimes, you know, we fat up sheep for the market and sell them asmuttons. We then have to get the sheep into cars to send them off and itis no so easy if they haven't the mind to go. Well, you should seeRobin and the Prince at the job. They will run right along the backs ofthe herd, biting the necks of the leaders until they get them aimedwhere they want 'em to go; then they'll nip the heels of the others tillthey march up the planks into the cars neat as a line of soldiers. Orthey will drive a flock onto a boat the same way. It is a great thing toget dogs that can do that. It takes more wit than a man has. Once asheep-raiser from California saw Robin down at Glen City getting a lotof sheep off to Chicago on the train and he was hot for having him. Heoffered me into the hundreds if I would let him take the collie backwith him. "

"And you wouldn't sell?"

"The money ain't coined would tempt me to part with either of my dogs!"Sandy replied, with a contented shake of his head. 

He did not speak again, but lapsed into a thoughtful silence. 

There were many of these long silences during those days on the hillsand to his surprise Donald had come to enjoy them. At first he hadlooked forward eagerly to the coming of the camp-tender, who made hisrounds three times a week. Not only did this Mexican bring fresh-bakedbread, cold meat, and condensed milk to add to the campers' stock ofsalt pork, lentils, and coffee, but he brought messages from the outsideworld; gossip from the other herders; and now and then a letter fromDonald's father. These visits were as exciting as to meet an ocean linerat sea. Gradually, however, Donald looked forward less and less toseeing the tiny Mexican burros with their loaded paniers wend their wayup the hillsides. He grew into the shepherd life until like Sandy hefound himself courting the sense of isolation and almost resenting theintrusion of the camp-tender. 

He could now understand why the herders who had lived on the range foryears were such a silent lot of men. When his father and he had firstarrived at Crescent Ranch the shepherds had had so little to say thatDonald, who was a sensitive lad, had felt sure that the men did not liketo have them come. Later, however, he had found the herders kindlydespite their taciturn manner. It was not ill-will but habitual silence. 

"What a lot of things people say that they don't need to, Sandy, " heobserved to the Scotchman one day. 

Sandy chuckled outright. 

"So you have come to that way of thinking, have you? We'll make ashepherd of you yet! Well, well, it is true enough. Folks chatter andchatter and what does it amount to? Many's the time they wish afterwardthey had held their tongues. But it is all as we're made. Some drop intobeing contented on the range; others cannot bear the stillness. I wasever happy alone in the open; but my brother Douglas was uneasy as acolt. "

"I didn't know you had a brother, Sandy!" exclaimed Donald, in surprise. 

"Aye, a little lad, five years younger than myself. "

"What--what became of him, Sandy?"

"What became of him--that's a question that I wish I could answer! Hecame to Crescent Ranch years ago with my father and me and was aboutthe place for a long time. But he was all for the city. He hated thequiet of the hills. He wanted to be seeing people and to be around inthe rush of things, and he begged my father to let him go to some bigplace and find a job. My father was ever a strict man and he would havenone of the youngster's going off by himself. There came a day, though, when the lad was so sore and unhappy that my father bid him set off forthe East. There was no other way to satisfy the boy. But it was a sadtime for my father--and for me, too. "

"Where did he go?"

"To some city on the coast, I dinna just know where. We were everthinking he would come back some day--but he never did. It is years nowsince I have had tidings from him. But sometimes when I am here bymyself I cannot but wonder where he is and what has become of him. He'dbe a man near twenty-five now. "

"Does my father know this?"

"Likely not. "

"May I tell him?"

"Aye, to be sure. No boy should have secrets from his father. "

"I can't see why a boy should want to, " declared Donald. "Why, my fatherand I are--well, we are the greatest friends in the world! I like to bewith him better than any one else. "

"So I figure. He must be thinking now and again that he'd like a sightof you at Crescent instead of seeing Thornton every day. "

"What sort of a man is Thornton, Sandy?"

"What sort of a man do you take him to be?"

"I do not like him!" was the prompt reply. 

"And wherefore?"

"Oh, I--don't--know. "

"A poor reason. Dinna say that about any man until you get a betterone. "

Donald colored. 

Sandy had dropped many a curt word that had brought the boy up, standing. Whatever else the young herder was he was just. Not only didDonald's liking, but his respect for him, increase. 

Ah, what happy days they passed together! Donald became so attached tothe various camps that he hated to leave them. Sometimes he and Sandywould stay in a spot a week, sometimes ten days; then onward and upwardover the great plateaus of the mountains they made their way. These flatreaches of pasture-land were like huge steps. It was hard to realizethat they were constantly climbing. Yet up, up, up they went! Each campwas several hundred feet higher than the last. As they went on thepasturage became richer, the air cooler. Clear streams from melting, snowy summits rushed along, leaving pathways of music behind them. Witha hawk's keenness Sandy chose the most fertile stretches of grass forthe flock. 

"The weight of the clip depends on good grazing, " he explained toDonald. 

"The clip?"

"Aye, the wool. Wool is sold by the pound, you must know. The better thefeed, the thicker the wool. We must look out, though, for poisonedmeadows. There do be many in this region. "

"Poisoned meadows!"

"Fields where poison herbage grows. Hundreds of sheep lose their livesdevouring poisonous weeds. Keep your eye out for signs, laddie. "

"Signs! Signs up here!"

"Where else? That is one of the many things our United States governmentdoes for us. It posts notices of poisoned meadows to warn the grazers onthe range. "

"That is a pretty nice thing to do!" Donald said. 

"Sure enough it is, " agreed Sandy. "Some day the survey will have allthe water-holes catalogued along with the poisoned herbage, and willthen be able to direct herders to the best grazing grounds. That is whatthe government is busy trying to do now. "

"And yet sheep-owners kick at paying for permits, " exclaimed Donald. "Why, lots of that permit money must come back in this way to the verymen who pay it. "

"For certain! And mind what I'm telling you--you will see more thingsthat the government is doing for the herders when you get higher up. Youwill see great pastures fenced in with coyote-proof wire--pastures to beused in lambing time so the young creatures will be safe fromprairie-dogs. "

"Do you have coyotes on the range?"

"Do we? Do we? Folks would know you for a tenderfoot right off if theyheard you ask that question! The coyote, I'd have you know, is the pestof the sheepman. He's the meanest critter--but there, why be talking?You'll see for yourself soon enough. The government has spent thousandsof dollars killing coyotes on these ranges. "

"To help the sheep-raisers?"

"So. "

"Well, I don't wonder my father wanted Crescent Ranch to pay its fullshare for permits. Since we are getting all these advantages, we oughtto bear our part of the expense, oughtn't we?" said Donald. 

"That's my feeling. We ought to be proud, too, we are bearing it. It's agrand country! I wasn't born here, like you, but I came here as a child, and the bones of my people are here. I mean to live in America and takewhat it offers, and wouldn't I be the churl not to give the little Ican in return! I haven't money, but I can live up to the laws. Scotchmanthough I be 'twill no hinder me from making a good American of myself. "

"Bully for you, Sandy!" cried Donald. Then he added soberly: "I am goingto be a better American when I get back home. "

"Dinna wait till then, laddie--be a better one now!"

Sandy chanced to be deftly cutting the outline of a thistle on a sprucestaff he was carving for the boy. Donald watched him in silence as heworked in the fading light. The sun had set behind the chain of nearhills, and the plateau where they were camping was gray with shadows. Through the dusk they could see the flock lazily browsing among thejunipers. 

Suddenly there was a cry from Sandy. 

He threw down the staff and sprang to his feet. 

"The herd!" he shouted. "They're off!"

Sure enough! Without a cry the leaders had started for the rimrock, andin their wake--straight for the face of the precipice--was running theentire flock. 

"They're startled!" gasped Sandy. "We must head 'em off. Run for yourlife! We must get between the brainless creatures and the cliff beforethey go over. "

Donald ran. He had never run so before. His training as a track sprinterstood him in good stead now. But he had never been a long-distancerunner. Two hundred yards was his limit. Moreover he was not intraining. But he ran--ran as he did not know he could run. He gained onthe sheep. Sandy, in the meantime, was waving his arms to the dogs who, understanding his slightest motion, now dashed ahead. The sheep, however, were far in advance by this time. On they sped in mad panic. Donald could run no more. He began to lag, his heart beating like ahammer. Even Sandy, who from the opposite direction was racing for theedge of the rock, slackened his pace. 

The race was a hopeless one. 

Then without warning, out of the trees at the left side of the fieldrode a horseman at full gallop. With flying hoofs he cut in ahead ofthe herd just as they neared the face of the rock. 

The leaders swerved, circled, and turned about. The gait of thestampeding flock lessened. The dogs skilfully steered the approachingsheep out to one side where Sandy scattered them that they might notcollide with the ranks coming toward them. Gradually the fears of theflock became quieted. Falling into a walk they worked their way intotheir customary places and turned about, feeding as they went. 

Immediately when Sandy saw them safe he pressed forward to the side ofthe horseman where he beckoned Donald to join him. 

"I spied your plight from the ridge above, Sandy McCulloch, " called therider. "The rest of the Crescent herd has gone in to the Reserve and Ihave had my eye out for you for days. I thought it was about time thatyou were coming along. "

"It's a good turn you've done me this day, Sargeant, " Donald heard Sandysay. 

"You have done many a favor for me. "

"Dinna be talking. It is little I ever did for you. An errand or twoperhaps, or carrying a message--but what is that? Any man would be gladto do the same. To-night, though, you have saved my whole herd. Weshould not have had a sheep left. Here is Master Donald Clark, the sonof our owner, " went on Sandy, as Donald came nearer. "Let him thank you. Don, this soldier is one of the government rangers. "

Leaning from his saddle the horseman put out his hand. 

"I am proud, " he said, "to meet one of the owners of Crescent Ranch. Ifyou are learning about the range, Master Clark, you cannot be in bettercompany than to be with Sandy McCulloch. There is little about sheepingthat he doesn't know; nor is there a cleaner-handed herder to be found. We never need to see his permit or count his sheep. He is nolawbreaker!"

"I hope none of our men are, " replied Donald, shyly. 

"Crescent Ranch has always had the reputation of being run on thesquare. We have no complaint to make, " was the ranger's answer. 

"We--my father means that it shall be, " the boy asserted modestly. 

"I do not doubt he does. You will have trouble, though, I fear, infinding another manager who can match Old Angus--or even Johnson. Theywere rare men who were famed throughout the county for their honesty andcommon sense. "

"We shall try to find some other manager as good. "

"May you be so fortunate. Good luck to you!"

With a wave of his hand the ranger cantered into the darkness and wassoon lost from sight. 

"You see, don't you, Don, that the rangers are not our natural bornenemies after all, " said Sandy, with a good-humored smile that bared hisglistening teeth. 

"I should say not!"

"They are all like that if we but live up to our part of the bargain. Inever yet met a ranger who was not friendly and kind. But you cannothave folks for your friends if you do not meet them half-way. "

[Illustration]

CHAPTER VIII

DONALD HAS A SURPRISE

It was something of a disappointment when one morning a week or twolater the camp-tender, who had scrambled up over the rimrock, informedDonald that he was to return to the central camp where his father wouldmeet him, and take him back to Crescent. 

"The ponies are tethered just below, so you can ride down along withme, " said the Mexican. "There is nothing the matter, only your fatherhas more than he can do with but Thornton and Green to help him. Heneeds you for a while. He told me to tell you that in a few weeks youmight come back. "

Donald looked regretfully at Sandy. 

"I'm sorry to go, Sandy. I promised, though, that I would return toCrescent whenever father wanted me; of course I am anxious to help himall I can. I cannot realize that it is June, and that I have been twomonths on the range. What a jolly time we have had! It seems a pity togo and leave you here by yourself. "

"It would not be the first time I have been alone in the hills, " smiledSandy. 

"He'll not be by himself either, " put in Pete, the Mexican, "for Tobincame up over the trail with me and is to bear Sandy company. "

Donald's face brightened. 

"I know you'll not be lonely, Sandy, " he said, "but suppose anythinghappened to you--what if you happened to be hurt as Johnson was?"

"Aye, poor Johnson! What do they hear from him, Pete?"

"Mr. Clark has been to Glen City a number of times to see him. He isgetting on finely! The ribs are mending and the hip, too. His heart isthe trouble now; he is breaking his heart for Crescent and the range. The doctor says that he will never be able to come back to the ranch. Mr. Clark is going to settle him and his wife on a farm of their own inCalifornia, where their son is. "

"Oh, I am very glad!" cried Donald. "Father said he should always lookout for Johnson because he had been so faithful. "

"It is like your father to do it--and like your grandfather, too, Don. May you be as good a man! Now get your traps together and be off withPete. It's many a time I'll be thinking of you after you are gone, laddie. "

"But you know I am coming back in a few weeks, Sandy. "

"There's long weeks and short weeks; it all depends on what you'redoing, " was Sandy's whimsical answer. "Now be off. Why, you'd think Iwas seeing you to India instead of just down to the lowlands!"

As he dropped over the rimrock, Donald tried to laugh. It was not untilhe was mounted upon the little Mexican pony that he gained courage tolook up. Outlined against the sky Sandy was standing on a point of rock, waving his sombrero. That was the last Donald saw of him. 

Chatting as they rode down the mountainside the boy and Pete pressedforward over the trail. At noon they dismounted and lunched on salt-porkand pilot bread. Then off they cantered again. The tiny ponies, sure-footed as mules, made their way over the steep inclines of thehilly country with astonishing daintiness, but although they maintaineda fair and even speed it was sunset when the white top of the prairieschooner came into sight, drawn up beside a stream and sheltered by agroup of great trees. Several Mexican ponies were pastured near it. Thecurtains at the end of the wagon were parted and fastened back andinside Donald could catch a glimpse of Manuel, the Mexican cook, busilypreparing the food. A curl of faint smoke rose from the tin pipe whichprotruded through the canvas, arching the top of the wagon. Then asDonald looked, into the clearing came the erect figure of his father. 

[Illustration: THE PANTING PONY STOOD STILL]

The boy gave a shrill whistle on his fingers and touched the spurs tohis horse's flank. 

"Father!" he called. 

Another moment and the panting pony stood still near the wagon, hissides heaving. 

Donald dismounted and ran to meet his father. 

"Well, well!" was Mr. Clark's first exclamation. "How is this? I sent apale-faced American boy to the range and I get an Indian in exchange!"

"I suppose I am tanned, " laughed Donald. "I know my hands are. As for myface--I have not seen it since I started. We don't have looking-glassesin the hills. "

"And you enjoyed your trip?"

"I had the time of my life, father! It is simply bully up there. I wishyou had been along. "

"I am planning to go back with you in two or three weeks. It seemed apity to bring you down, but I did need you, Don. If it had only beenthat I missed you I should not have sent, no matter how much I wanted tosee you. "

"I was glad to come, sir. How is everything at Crescent?"

"Going well. We are getting in a big crop of alfalfa from the southmeadow. That is why I wanted you. You will now have to turn farmer andpitch hay for a while. "

"All right!"

And that was what Donald did. For the next few weeks he was busy helpinghis father harvest the first crop of alfalfa grass, drying it, andstoring it away in the great sprawling barn of the home ranch for winterfeed. Days of hard work were succeeded by nights of heavy slumber. Lifewas very real. The boy was doing something--something thattold--something that was of use to other persons; he had a place tofill, duties for which he was responsible. Continually he found himselfspeaking of "our ranch" and suggesting to his father that "we" do suchand such things. 

Mr. Clark rubbed his hands with satisfaction. Although he and Donald hadalways preserved a close comradeship no experience had ever drawn themso near together as had this common interest. It was happiness to eachof them. From the time the boy tumbled out of bed in the early morninguntil he tumbled in again at dusk his whistle could be heard shrillabove the click of mowing-machines, and the tramp of horses' hoofs. 

At last came the day when the last load of alfalfa was housed undercover; then Mr. Clark said to Thornton:

"Well, Thornton, there seems to be nothing more for which we shall beneeded at present. You can deal out the rations and send them to thethree central camps without me; you can also order necessary suppliesfrom Glen City. Some repairs remain for you to oversee, but I am sureyou fully understand about them, and can manage them without my help. To-morrow, therefore, if the day is fine, Donald and I will set out forthe range, I think. "

Donald threw his hat into the air. 

"To join Sandy, father?" he asked eagerly. 

"That is my plan. "

"Hurrah!"

Mr. Clark looked amused at his enthusiasm. 

"One would think you a born shepherd, Don, instead of a boy who has onlybeen out on the range with a herder. "

"Why do you call Sandy just a herder, father?" Donald asked, seeming tofear that the term was a slight to his friend the Scotchman. 

"Because he is a herder, son. A shepherd is a man who herds or tends hisown sheep--sheep that belong to him; a herder, on the contrary, is a manhired to care for other people's sheep. There is a great difference, yousee. Generally speaking, a shepherd will take more pains with a flockthan a herder will on the principle that we are more interested in ourown possessions than in those which are not our own. "

"No one could take better care of sheep, father, than Sandy does. "

"I feel sure of that, " agreed his father, gravely. "In fact all ourherders are honest men--I am convinced of it. After the next shearing Imean to give to each man a small band of sheep for his own. He may runthem with the flocks, sell the wool, and keep the money as a nest-egg. The men deserve a share in the profits of Crescent Ranch and I shouldlike them to have it in return for their splendid spirit of loyalty. "

"Even Thornton?"

Mr. Clark hesitated. 

"I have been watching Thornton, " he admitted slowly. "That is why I kepthim with me, and why I stayed behind. "

"Why, I never thought of that being the reason!"

"It was my chief reason. "

"But now you are going off and leaving Thornton alone, " Donald said, somewhat puzzled. 

"Yes, and I am leaving him in a position of trust, too. The supplies andmuch of our business is in his hands. He knows it. If he proves himselfworthy, I shall appoint him, when we leave here, as manager in Johnson'splace; if he abuses the confidence I am placing in him he will force meto appoint some one else. I wish to be perfectly fair. "

"But I do not like Thornton, " declared Donald. 

"We must never be guided by our prejudices, Don. "

"And anyway, " went on the boy, "I don't see how you will know what he isdoing. You will be miles away in the hills. He could do almost anythinghe chose. Have you left some one to watch him, father?"

"No, indeed, son. That would be a mean method; don't you think so? Toset a trap for a man, or to spy upon him would be contemptible!"

Donald hung his head, ashamed of the suggestion. 

"No, " continued Mr. Clark less severely, "I have left no one on guardover Thornton but himself. I am really trusting him. "

"You will never find out what he does, then. "

"Yes, I shall. "

"I don't see how. "

"Thornton himself shall tell me. "

Donald gasped. 

"He never will tell you, father!" announced the boy positively. 

"Wait and see. Now let us think no more of Thornton, for it is of Sandythat we are to talk. He has a great surprise for you. "

"A surprise for me!"

"Yes. "

Mr. Clark studied the lad's mystified expression with pleasure. 

"A surprise for me!" repeated Donald. "What can it be!"

"You will see. "

"Aren't you going to tell me?"

"No, not a word. It would spoil Sandy's fun. "

"A surprise!" reiterated Donald over and over. 

As they rode from the central camp up over the rough trail Donspeculated constantly as to what could be in store for him. It seemed along journey for he was impatient to solve the waiting enigma. Whatsurprise could Sandy have concocted? At the border of the Reserve theymet the ranger who chanced to be patrolling that portion of thegovernment line. He remembered Donald very well and greeted him kindly;he also had a cordial word for Mr. Clark. Donald, however, begrudgedeven this brief delay and was glad when they plunged into the woods andwere on their way through the National Forest. 

Pete, the Mexican camp-tender who had come with them as guide, knew thecountry as an American boy knows his A B C's. He hunted out shelterednooks where they could camp at night, taking great care to build thefire on a rocky base that it might not set ablaze the brush and litterof pine-needles about them. 

"Many a careless shepherd sets a forest fire through being thoughtless, "he said. "Acres of timber will be burned off a hillside by one personwho did not put out his fire, or scattered sparks in the driedunderbrush. Old Angus trained us Crescent men always to build our fireson a flat rock if we could; then there is no danger of our doing damagein the reserve or elsewhere. "

"It is a wise plan, " Mr. Clark said heartily. "I wish all herders wereas careful. "

So they journeyed on--now in the sunlight of the plateaus, now in theshadows of the forest. Then one morning they suddenly emerged into anemerald meadow glowing with sunshine. There a beautiful sight metDonald's eye. 

Spread out like a fan the herd was grazing on the rich herbage of themountain pasture, their backs to the brilliant light as was their wont. But of these details Donald was not conscious. What held him spellboundwas the miracle that had happened in his absence. Now he knew thesurprise that Sandy had for him! Beside every ewe in the flock stood atiny white lamb!

[Illustration]

CHAPTER IX

A SECOND ADVENTURE

Donald's delight at being back on the range was equaled only by Sandy'spleasure at having him there. The first thing, of course, was to displaythe lambs to the boy and Mr. Clark. 

With no little pride the Scotchman led the newcomers over the pasture, pointing out the finest blooded creatures in the flock. 

"One would think, Sandy, that you were a mother hen with a brood ofchicks!" laughed Donald's father. "Well, you have a right to be pleasedwith your herd. You have a fine lot of lambs. "

"They are no so handsome just now, sir, " Sandy chuckled. "But give themtime! A few weeks more, and a winsome sight they'll be. "

"Are--are--lambs always so long-legged?" queried Donald timidly, anxiousnot to hurt Sandy's feelings. "These seem to have no bodies at all--justlegs. "

"That is their nature, lad. They have only enough body to keep theirlegs alive. Young lambs are ever like that. Later they fill out. It istheir strong legs that enable them to travel with the flock as soon asthey are three or four weeks old. But I am proud of them--legs or nolegs. Now that they are here, our next task is to bring them throughalive. We have lost but a few thus far. Luckily we had several sets oftwins, so we have been able to give a lamb to every mother sheep thatlost her baby. We fasten the strange lamb inside the skin of the deadone, and the mother is as well pleased as if she had her own backagain. "

"What a funny idea!" Donald said. 

"Yes, isn't it? You see sheep recognize their young merely by scent. Thepower of smell is remarkably keen in all sheep. They can tell theirbabies no other way. We do not want any of the ewes grieving becausethey have no lamb--they do grieve, poor things--so we have to fool thema little. It is a fair thing to do because the ewes with twins do notneed two. They are just as happy with one, " explained Sandy. 

"And now you will have a big, big flock to take care of, won't you, Sandy?"

"Aye! There is much more to do now. I am glad you have come back, Don, for I can put you to work. "

"You must put me to work also, Sandy, " Mr. Clark observed, smiling. 

Sandy shook his head. 

"Well, I reckon not. It would be a fine thing for me to be asking agentleman like you to put your hand to anything, now wouldn't it!"

Evidently the idea amused the herder. 

"Why not?" Mr. Clark asked seriously. "I am used to putting my hand tomuch hard work when I am at home. Everybody in this world works one wayor another. Some of us work with our heads, some with our hands; but solong as it is all honest, helpful work and we do it the best we can, weare all on equal footing, Sandy. Now if you were in my office in BostonI might be teaching you kinds of work that would be new to you; here youcan teach me. Try and forget everything, and just consider me a personwho is interested in sheep and wants to learn about them. Let me joinDonald in helping all I can. "

"I'll take you at your word then, sir, since you urge me. I'm no denyingit will make matters simpler. There is enough to do--more than enough, and extra help will be welcome. Luigi will be going down with theponies, I suppose, sir. "

"Yes, he is to take them back, and stay and aid Thornton at the ranch. "

"Then you will have a place to fill right away, Mr. Clark. Some of themen who have been helping have gone down already, but I have kept Tobinand a couple of the Mexicans. Still it is no so easy to protect so manylambs from the coyotes. Lambing time is their great feasting season. Acoyote is a mean creature, sir. Yet despise 'em as you may you cannothelp admiring their cunning. There is no smarter animal alive than acoyote!"

"Tell us about them. "

Sandy dropped down on a rock beside Mr. Clark and Donald. 

"A coyote, as of course you know, is a wee bit wolf, about the size of afox, and there is no feed he enjoys so well as a young lamb. Coyotesseem to know when the lambs come and they make ready to raid the flocks. You'd think folks would be bright enough to catch 'em, but there ain'twit enough in the world to get ahead of them. They're the cutest! Thetricks a coyote will invent, sir, pass belief. In spite of the fact thispasture is fenced with coyote-proof wire the creatures manage to getin--goodness only knows how. "

"Have they bothered you much, Sandy?"

"Have they! Haven't we built fires round the herd every night andpatrolled the whole distance, back and forth, until light? Luigi, Bernardo, Carlos, and I have been on our feet from twilight untilsunrise, tramping like sentinels; yet with all our care we have lost sixlambs already. Six is not many when you consider the numbers someherders lose, still it is just six too many. So you see if Luigi goesdown over the trail to-day with the ponies we can find work for you andDonald to-night. "

"Oh, I think it will be great fun to patrol!" cried Donald. 

"Think you so? Well, mayhap you will find it sport, since you haven'tbeen doing it night after night for two weeks, lad. "

Donald regarded him good-naturedly. 

"There will be plenty of work waiting you by day, too, " Sandy went on. "Just now we are busy inserting the flock mark in the ear of eachlamb--a metal button with a crescent on it. The next ranch to ours isAnchor Ranch, and their herd is marked with an anchor, while down beyondlies Star Ranch. It behooves us to keep close track of our herds andmark them carefully. Then in addition to the marking we must dock thetails of the lambs lest they become foul; and we must record every lamb. We have a book where we enter the number of the mother and opposite itthe number of her lamb. That is the way we keep track of the breeds. "

"Why, I had no idea you had so many things to do, Sandy, " said Donald. "It is almost as bad as taking the census. "

"It is, and it all has to be done correctly, too. You can look up in thebooks the history of every sheep we have at Crescent Ranch. The purebreed lambs have to be registered with the Breed Secretary, you know. "

"Sheep-raising seems to lead from one thing into another, " reflectedDonald. "In the East none of us ever think of all that the wool goesthrough before it is made into clothes for us. "

"It is better than any story, " was Sandy's reply. "Herders get tired ofit sometimes, but I never do. Sheeping is in my blood, I reckon. Whatwith herding and trailing the flock, what with bears, and bob-cats, andcougars, and coyotes--I dinna see how it would ever be dull. "

"That is because you love your work, Sandy, " said Mr. Clark. 

"I do. Take me from the ranch, sir, and blindfold me even, and I verilybelieve I'd find my way back again. Now a bit more about the coyotes. Ifyou are to be of help you must hear all I can tell you so that you willknow the better how to fight 'em. Sometimes they'll yelp like a dog andtrick you into thinking your own collies are in trouble; but do nottrust them. 'Twill be no collies but themselves that are barking. Againthey will cheat you into believing that they are far away, so gentlewill be their cry; that is to throw you off the track. Or they will barkin two keys as if there were twice as many of them as there really are. They are the canny ones! Then when you pick up your gun and go where youthink they are, they will no be there; 'twill be at a different spotthey are at work. "

"Well, Don, " said Mr. Clark, "I do not see but you and I have somethingahead of us. I am afraid we shall be of very little help, Sandy. Why, one ought to be an expert to catch such a gamester as a coyote!"

"Then you're no grudging us the loss of six lambs, Mr. Clark. "

"I do not see how you did so well--to lose only six in a great flocklike this!"

"But even so, sir, I was that wrathful when I found I had been outwittedI could have cried. You see six or seven coyotes put their headstogether, as they have a way of doing, and cut a group of lambs off fromthe herd--got between them and the flock. It took the dogs to drive 'emaway. Robin and the Prince are great fighters, and Colin is not farbehind. Before we got rid of them, though, we had lost three lambs. Thenext time they tried a different trick: part of them barked and drew thedogs to a corner of the pasture, and then the rest came down on theunprotected end of the fold and carried away three more lambs. "

"Is there nothing that will stop them?" asked Donald. 

"We have tried many things. Some herders put strychnine in the carcassesof dead lambs and poison a few of the coyotes; most of them are tooclever to be caught that way, though. The government has also killedmany. Perhaps to-night, Don, you may have a share in the good work. ButI warn you do not send a bullet through one of my dogs, thinking hisbarking is the yelp of one of these range thieves. "

"Indeed I'll be careful, " Donald promised, as he sprang up and ran tothe edge of the rimrock to wave a good-bye to Luigi, who wasdisappearing round a curve of the trail. 

"The lad is happy as a king here on the range, Sandy, " Mr. Clarkremarked. 

"He takes to it as if he had been bred on the hills, sir. "

"I wish he might like the work well enough to go into the business withme some time. "

"There is no telling. He is but young yet. When he is old as I, mayhaphe may choose to settle down and be a wool-grower. "

"How old are you, Sandy?"

"I should be near thirty, sir, I'm thinking, though I haven't always hada birthday cake out here on the hills, " was the whimsical reply. 

"Thirty! A rare age for such a level head as yours!"

"I dinna ken about the head, Mr. Clark. My father used to say it was theheart that counted most. Now what say you to a basin of hot lentilsoup?" inquired the Scotchman, changing the subject. "You and Donaldmust be hungry. "

"I believe we are. Let us go down to the tent. I see Donald therealready, building the fire. "

After having eaten a hearty meal they left the flock which was restingor grazing near by in charge of the dogs, and Mr. Clark, Donald, and themen turned in to snatch a few hours' sleep in anticipation of the longwatch before them. 

It was deep twilight when they awoke. 

Sandy shook Donald by the shoulder. 

"We must be up and away, laddie, " he said, as the boy turned drowsily. "It's a man's work--real work you're doing here; you are no playingsheep-raiser. Rouse your father, snatch a bit of bread, and come andhelp me set the watch-fires. See, the Mexicans are already ahead of us. "

With quick step he was off. 

"Dinna forget your rifle, " he called as he went. 

Donald was on his feet. 

"Father, " he shouted, "Sandy says we must be starting out. "

Mr. Clark sat up. 

"I promised to obey Sandy, sure enough, " he yawned, "and I like him allthe better for routing me out, sleepy though I am. I will be with you ina moment. Where is Sandy?"

"Setting watch-fires along the outer edge of the pasture. He says tobring your rifle. "

A little later and they had overtaken the Scotchman, who was stridingalong through the darkness, swinging his lantern. 

"It is here I'll station you, Mr. Clark, " said Sandy simply. "Patrolthis border as far as the bonfire; then turn backward and go until youmeet Bernardo. Donald will pace between the next two fires, and theMexicans and myself will complete the circle round the flock. Be carefullest bob-cats steal down on you unawares; they come softly as mice, makeno fuss, and kill so quickly that they seldom disturb the herd. It islikely we will no be troubled with them because of the fenced-inpasture. Now cougars will leap the fence without the dogs knowing themto be at hand, too, and will take their kill off over their shouldersand disappear. We have seen no cougars, though, this year, and here'shoping that we won't. While you are patrolling I'd advise you to firenow and again, even though no beasts are in sight; it scares them off. Now I've told you all I can. Good-night. "

Away into the falling darkness sped Sandy. 

Donald began his patrol. As he trudged back and forth on his beat hecould catch an occasional glimpse of the Scotchman, who stopped to tossa few sticks on the fire or halted an instant to exchange a word withone of the Mexicans. The boy could also see his father's dim figurewalking to and fro. It was dull work, this monotonous tramp. Donaldlooked up at the canopy of stars and thought he had never seen so many. He yawned, and yawned a second time. Still he kept up his even jog alongthe outskirts of the fold. 

Suddenly he was conscious of a low whine not far away. It was repeated. Then came a loud barking as if a pack of wolves were on the other sideof the pasture. He heard Sandy's voice echoing on the clear air. Twoshots followed. Perhaps the coyotes were over there; or could it be acougar or a bear? How he longed to be in the midst of the sport! Whyshould he stay on this quiet, unmolested border of the pasture? Nothingwas happening here! An impulse to join his father or Sandy swept overhim; then a thought rose in his mind and held him back--if he left hispatrol he would be a deserter, a deserter as blameworthy as any sentrywho fled from his post. Straightening up proudly, the boy resumed hiseven pace. 

It was just as he turned that he caught sight of a crouching formslipping along the ground toward the edge of the flock. With a sharpflash Donald's rifle rang out. He shot into the air, not daring to aimtoward the pasture lest unwittingly he injure some of the sheep in thedarkness. His shot was answered by a yelp and a quick rush. Colinbounded to his side, sniffed, and darted into the herd. 

A commotion followed. 

There was a struggle, a low growl of rage. 

Then the collie trotted back to Donald's side dragging in his teeth alimp mass which he dropped at the lad's feet. 

The boy struck a match and turned the creature over with his foot. 

It was a coyote!

Then how glad he was that he had not left his post!

At dawn Sandy came to relieve him. The herder glanced first at the deadcoyote, then at some faint tracks in the moist earth. 

"You have interrupted a midnight orgy, Don, " he declared at last, rubbing his hands together as he always did when anything pleased himvery much. "Here are the marks of at least four coyotes that werestealing down on the flock when you fired. You got this one, andevidently drove off the others. I wish we had had as good luck on ourside of the fold. In spite of his watchfulness Bernardo lost two lambs. He is one of our best herders, too, and he is sore about it. You havedone a good night's work, lad. I am proud of my pupil!"

And as Donald heard Sandy's words his lips parted in a smile and he felthe would have patrolled a line twice as long to have earned the youngScotchman's praise. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER X

A PREDICTION THAT CAME TRUE

When the lambs were three weeks old Sandy decided to break camp, leavethe fenced lambing-pasture, and push on to higher ground. 

"The sun is getting hot and we must have cooler quarters, " he explained. "By nature sheep seek elevated ground, you know, and their health isbetter there. Now that their fleeces are getting so much thicker thepoor beasts are too warm in the low places. What is more, they need theexercise of climbing. Grass, too, is becoming scant and we must not eatit down too close. "

Mr. Clark agreed. 

Therefore a clear July morning saw the vast herd winding its way up thesteep incline of the mountainside. Sandy went on ahead, guiding theflock to the best pasturage and the freshest water-holes. The lambstrotted at their mother's sides or frisked after them with theplayfulness of kittens. When a plentiful water supply and rich grass wasfound Sandy often delayed the upward march a week or more, that theflock might make the most of the lush herbage. When feed was meagerthere were days of scrambling up rocky stretches, and nights ofpatrolling the fold. Then more days of climbing would follow. Sometimesa scarcity of water forced them to press on against their will. 

They had now reached a high elevation, but the warmth of the Julyweather rendered the coolness welcome. The sheep gladly sought out theforest shade or, when they were above the timber-line, rested in theshadow of the high rocks. This rough land seemed to be the favoriteplace for their sports, and Donald and his father were never tiredwatching them. 

A single sheep would mount a boulder, from which vantage ground he wouldstand looking down at the herd. In a moment several of the flock wouldrush forward, butt him from the rock, and one of them would take hisplace, only to be driven down and succeeded by the next victor. Thesheep often played this for a long time. 

"It is a good game, too, " declared Sandy, "for to rush up the side of ahigh rock like that and not slip back makes them sure-footed. "

Another game the flock sometimes played was Follow the Leader, one oldewe marching ahead, followed by a line of sheep that went wherever sheled them. 

"They play it almost as well as we did at school, " said Donald, muchamused. 

"That is a useful game too, " went on Sandy. "By playing it the younglambs learn to follow the others, and do what they do. That is one waythey get training to keep in the herd and obey the mind of the leader. It is really more of a lesson than a game. I suspect, though, they arelike us--so long as they think it is a game they like to play it. Perhaps, now, if we were to hint to them it was a lesson they mightnever play it again. "

Donald chuckled. 

There were many times when it seemed to him that Sandy must be a boy offourteen instead of a man of forty; yet the next moment the Scotchmanwould address him with the gravity of a grandfather, and immediatelyDonald felt very young indeed. A strange mixture of youth and wisdom wasSandy McCulloch!

As the lambs were now old enough to travel with the flock there was nofurther need for the Mexicans to linger on the range, and they thereforewent back over the trail to busy themselves at the home ranch untilshearing time. The camp-tender, too, did not now take time to make thedifficult journey up into the mountains, but left supplies at a givenspot in the lower pastures, or met some of the party half-way anddelivered over the provisions. If the rations were left it fell to thelot of one of the campers on the upper range to ride down on the ponyand bring back "the grub, " as Sandy called it. Once when Mr. Clark wentdown it was only to find that the supplies had been scented out by abear and dragged away; in consequence the party on the mountain wereforced to get on without bread or fresh provisions until the tender madehis next round. 

At times it was Donald's turn to make this trip; on other days Sandy orBernardo went. As there was always the chance of meeting a grizzly or arattler the journey was not without its perils. 

Thus the summer passed. 

Then came the fall days, when threatened cold made it necessary to turnthe heads of the herd toward the lower hills of the winter range. Downward they wended their way. Flurries of snow caught them unawaresand at these blizzards Sandy's face always became grave, for it was inone of these sudden squalls that his father, Old Angus, had perished. Although the days were chilly and the nights still colder, Mr. Clark andDonald kept resolutely with the flock; but when they reached thelowlands and the Scotch herder directed his band of sheep toward thebronzed fields of sage-brush and dried hay lying along the river valleyDonald and his father bade good-bye to Bernardo and Sandy and returnedto the shelter of the home ranch. 

Thornton welcomed them. 

There was something new in his manner--a strange, unaccustomed dignitywhich lent to the man a charm he had never before possessed. 

"Thornton did not shuffle toward us and look down as he usually does, "observed Donald to his father when they were alone. "He is different, somehow. What is it?"

"I am not sure, son, but I cannot help feeling that Thornton has come tohis best self. The best is in all of us. It is not, however, alwaysuppermost. Perhaps it is going to triumph in Thornton. "

There unquestionably was a change in the big rough man. 

That evening he got out the books and went over all the accounts withMr. Clark, telling him just what supplies he had ordered; what they hadcost; and how much he had paid out in wages. In dealing with financialmatters Mr. Clark was on his native heath. He studied the columns offigures critically. The accounts were correct to a cent, and he couldreadily see that every reasonable economy had been practiced in themanagement of the ranch. 

"You have done well, Thornton, " he said after he had finished lookingover the bills and papers. "I am greatly obliged to you for yourfaithful work. "

Donald saw a flush of pleasure rise to the man's cheek. 

"My work has not always been faithful, Mr. Clark, " Thornton declaredwith sudden determination. "I want to tell you, sir, that I was notsetting out to be faithful to you at all. I wanted to get Johnson'splace, and then I meant to run Crescent Ranch to please myself. I amgoing to confess the whole thing; I want to confess it because yourconfidence in me has made me ashamed of myself. You must have knownsomehow that I was not running things as they ought to be run, else youwould never have come out here. Sandy knew it--so did all the oldherders. Yet, save about the permits, you never have spoken a word ofreproof, but have gone on trusting me. When you looked me so kindly inthe eye and went away leaving me in care of the whole home ranch Isomehow felt that you expected me to do the square thing. "

His voice faltered. 

Donald, who had been an uncomfortable listener, now rose and tried tosteal out of the room unnoticed, but Thornton called him back. 

"Do not go, lad. You may be owning Crescent Ranch some day, and I wantyou to hear what I have to say. There is not much more to tell. Afteryou and your father had gone to the range with Sandy I sat down andthought it all over. Here I was, alone! There was no getting away frommyself. I reviewed all the plans I had made--how I was going to stocksome of my friends at Glen City with provisions and charge it up toClark & Sons; how I was going to pad the accounts and keep the money--Iwent over the whole thing, and I felt mean as a cur. It came to me thatit was a pretty poor game. Then another plan came into my mind. You weregiving me a chance to be decent--why didn't I take it? I did. I havebeen absolutely honest about running the ranch while you have been gone, Mr. Clark. I can look you and Donald in the eye just as Sandy, José, Bernardo, and the other men do who have been working for your interestall these years. "

Mr. Clark put out his hand. 

"I am glad you told me this, Thornton, " he said quietly, "and I believeyou. See, here is a sheet of paper; it is scrawled over with letters andfigures of every sort. Turn it over. "

Wonderingly the man obeyed. Nothing was written on the other side. Itwas a blank page. 

"You see there is nothing on that side, " went on Donald's father. "Wecan there write what we will. Turn your own page the same way. Let usforget the past. Now for the future! Will you take the position asmanager of Crescent Ranch?"

Thornton was aghast. 

"I, sir! I? After all that has happened?" he contrived to stammer. 

"Why not?"

"I couldn't do it, Mr. Clark. Not one of the men would believe in me. No, I am going to leave this place after the shearing is over, and gosomewhere where no one knows me; there I can make a fresh start. Andanyway, even if all this had not happened, I am not the man to bemanager here. I have neither the confidence of the herders, nor thenecessary knowledge about the flocks. But there is a man on CrescentRanch who knows everything there is to know about sheep-raising--a manhonest as the day, and who loves the place as if it was his own--SandyMcCulloch, sir. He is the only man for the position--there never hasbeen any one else. Put him in as manager and you will never regret it. "

Donald sprang up. 

"Oh, father, do put Sandy in, " he cried. "I never thought of Sandy asmanager--he seems so young!"

"I have thought of him all along, " Thornton continued. "That is why Iwas so ready with a word against him every chance I got. I have beenafraid of him--afraid of his honesty and his goodness. It was not thathe would tell tales about me; Sandy is too big-natured a man to dothat. He would scorn to use a mean weapon. No, it was just because hewas what he was that I feared him. "

Mr. Clark was silent. 

"You owe it to Old Angus, Sandy's father, to give the lad the place, sir, " pleaded Thornton. 

"And if I did what is to become of you, Thornton?" asked the ownerslowly. 

"Oh, I don't know. It does not matter. I will stay here until after theshearing, for it is a busy time and I might be of help. Then I can goand look up something else. "

Donald watched his father as he bent forward and stirred the fire. Thewell-known little wrinkle had come in his forehead and the boy knew thathis mind was busy. 

"Thornton, " said Mr. Clark at last, "have you relatives here in theWest?"

"No, sir. "

"Are you alone in the world?"

"Yes. "

"Would you like to go East with Donald and me when we return to Bostonafter the shearing?"

Thornton regarded him blankly. 

"I need another man in my office, " explained the wool-broker. "You haveproved yourself a good accountant. Furthermore it would be greatly toour advantage to have a reliable helper who is familiar with ranchaffairs and knows Sandy, the new manager. Then if I wanted some one, asI often have in the past, to make the trip out here and attend tobusiness for me, you could do it. "

Thornton got up and walked to the window. They could not see his face. He stood with his back toward them, looking out into the darkness. 

Then suddenly he wheeled and came to Mr. Clark's side. 

"You took me by surprise, sir, " he said unsteadily. "I cannot thank you. I know well it is another chance you are giving me. I will take it andgo East, and there I will prove to you that in the future you can trustme. "

"You have proved that already, Thornton, " replied Donald's father, as hesmiled up into the face of the ranchman and gripped his coarse brownhand. 

After Thornton had left the room Donald and his father were silent. 

At last the boy said:

"You were right about Thornton, father. He was honest with you, just asyou predicted he would be. "

"I believe if you expect the best of a man you will usually get it, "replied Mr. Clark. "There is something big and honest in each of uswhich springs to meet the big and honest in somebody else. Appeal tothat best side of people and it will respond. I have seldom known therule to fail. Now just one thing more. Do not forget that this man hasgiven us his confidence. It is a thing we must hold sacred. Never repeatwhat you have heard. And above all remember that Thornton deserves bothadmiration and respect, for it is only great natures that admit theyhave done wrong. "

Donald nodded. 

"I like Thornton better than I did before father, " he said softly. 

"So do I, son!"

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XI

THE SHEARING

There was great rejoicing among the herders when, in the latter part ofApril, they drove their flocks to Glen City for the shearing, and heardthat Sandy McCulloch had been made manager of Crescent Ranch. 

Mr. Clark and Donald gave out the facts with greatest care--how Thorntonwas to become Clark & Son's confidential man at the Boston office; andhow Sandy was to take the vast sheep-raising portion of the businessunder his direction. 

"It is a proud day for you, Sandy!" cried José. 

"I'm no pretending I ain't pleased, " replied Sandy, beaming on theMexican, "but dinna think I'm proud. If I do my work well pride maycome; still, it's no time for it now. "

"Of course you'll do it well--how could you help it! It is in yourblood, " José declared. "You have your father's own knack about theflocks. It is the real love for herding--a kind of part of you, itseems. "

"I get it from generations of shepherds who have tended the black-facedsheep among the broom and the heather on the hills of Scotland, I doubtnot, " answered Sandy. 

"Well, it stands you in good stead, however you come by it, " José calledover his shoulder as he moved off toward the pen where his sheep were. 

"I hope it may stand me in good stead in the future, Don, " Sandy saidgravely to the boy beside him. 

"I am sure it will. Isn't it splendid, Sandy, to see the herders all sopleased and ready to follow out your orders? I think nothing could havemade me happier than to have you put in to manage the ranch. "

"I'm verra, verra glad myself, laddie. It is a thing I never dared hopefor, and I would not have wanted to take the job from Thornton. Butsince he is going East and is to be well provided for it makeseverything right. "

"And yet you telegraphed my father to come here, Sandy. "

It was the first time the telegram had ever been mentioned between them. 

Sandy hesitated. 

"I felt your father should come out here and cast his eye over the placeand, loving the ranch so well, I took it on myself to send for him. ButI told no tales. It was his task to find the flaws if there were any. Iam no certain what he found and I dinna want to hear. I simply know thesnarls have straightened themselves out, and that Crescent Ranch is nowgoing on better than it has in years. The men have all been glad for aglimpse of your father. It is no so much fun working for somebody youhave never seen. It has been a great thing to have him come. And as forthe herds--was there ever a finer sight?"

He swept his hand around dramatically. 

On every side, in numbered pens, sheep were waiting to be sheared. 

It was the first time Donald had seen the stock all together and it wasindeed, as Sandy had declared, a fine sight. 

The herders were not a little proud of the thickness of the fleeces oftheir respective flocks and much good-natured banter passed betweenthem. 

"Is it on corn-husks you have been feeding your ewes that they look sosickly?" called one Mexican to another. 

The swarthy herdsman grinned. 

"Mind your own band, Manuel Torquello! You haven't a fleece in your foldthat will tip the scales at ten pounds. "

Both men laughed and passed on. 

"How much ought fleeces to weigh, Sandy?" asked Donald. 

"From six to ten pounds--as the clip runs. Some are heavier, somelighter. It depends on the quality of the wool, and the amount of oil init. "

"I don't see why the shearing is not done at the ranch instead ofdriving all the sheep down here to Glen City, " panted Donald as he triedto keep up with Sandy's strides. 

"Why, you see, lad, it is much more convenient to have the wool clippednear the railroad. In that way we do away with carting it. The fleecescan be sheared, packed, weighed, and put right on the cars. Beside that, we get the power to run our plant from Glen City. Our shearing is doneby electricity and not by hand, you know. "

"It is mean of me to make you answer questions, Sandy, when you are insuch a hurry, " Donald ventured hesitatingly, "but I wish you had time toexplain to me about the shearing. "

Sandy was in a hurry--there was no denying that!

He and Donald had driven down from Crescent that morning, and were tomeet Thornton and Mr. Clark as soon as possible at the shed where theshearing was to be done. Nevertheless, in spite of his haste, Sandytried as he went along to answer Donald's question. 

"There was a time long ago when all shearing was done by hand. In thespring bands of traveling shearers came from ranch to ranch and shearedthe flocks for so much a day. Sometimes these men were Mexicans, sometimes Indians. As they made a business of shearing and nothing elsethey became verra skilful with the shears and could turn off manyfleeces a day. It is an art to shear a sheep. Many a try must you havebefore you can do it. The smaller ranches still shear by hand, for itdoes not pay to run a power plant unless you have large flocks. "

"I suppose a power plant does the work quicker, " suggested Donald. 

"No, I think good shearers can clip the fleeces almost as fast. Thechief advantage in machinery is that it takes the wool off closer, andyou do not need such skilled men to do the work. You just have toremember not to shear flocks this way in summer, for the wool would becut so close that your sheep would be wild with flies and sunburn beforetheir coats grew long enough to protect them. "

They had now reached the plant, where they were to meet Donald's fatherand Thornton; they mounted the steps of the low building and went in. Immediately they were greeted by the whirr of wheels, the chatter ofmany herders, and the blatting of sheep. 

Mr. Clark came forward. 

"Well, Don, " he said, "this is quite a sight, isn't it?"

"I should say it was! I had no idea shearing was done this way. It isjust the way they clip horses or cut my hair. "

His father smiled. 

"Yes, it is done on the same principle. Let us watch this man here. Heis just starting. I thought he would tie the feet of the sheep first, but he does not seem to be doing it; instead he is turning it up on itsrump, and holding it with his left arm so its hoofs cannot touch thefloor. They say sheep never kick or struggle if their feet are raisedfrom the ground. Now he is starting with the shears. See! He is openingthe wool by a cut down the right shoulder. How neatly the fleece comesoff--almost in one piece, as if it was a jacket!"

"I guess that was a smooth-skinned sheep, " laughed Donald, "or theshearer never could have done it so quickly. "

The man who was shearing overheard him. 

"It was a smooth-skinned one, " he called. "Still, even the wrinklyMerinos loose their coats pretty fast. Watch and see. I have one righthere. "

Donald watched. 

It was fascinating. 

"I'd like to try it, " he said glancing up at his father. 

"I guess you'd have trouble!"

"I wouldn't mind the trouble if I wasn't afraid of cutting the sheep, "replied the boy. 

"Suppose you leave it until you come West the next time, " called Sandy, who chanced to be passing and heard his words. "You mustn't doeverything this trip, or you'll have nothing to look forward to when youcome again. "

"Perhaps it's as well for the sheep!" grunted the Mexican who wasshearing. 

[Illustration: "I'D LIKE TO TRY IT"]

"I shouldn't wonder!" answered Donald good-naturedly. 

But what a charm there was in that crisp snip of the shears!

At last, however, Donald and his father moved on to where crews of menwere busy at smooth board tables. 

"What are they doing here?" Donald asked. 

"They are tying fleeces, " explained Mr. Clark. 

"But don't they wash that dirty wool before they tie it up?" questionedthe boy, astounded. 

Sandy, who had joined them for the moment, laughed at Donald's disgust. 

"You'd have us washing and ironing it, perhaps, " he chuckled. "No, no!We used to wash all fleeces before they were clipped, 'tis true. Butyour father says that now buyers care little for them washed. Folks willpay about as much for good wool unwashed as washed. It is a lucky thingfor us, because it saves us much trouble; more than that, it is betterfor the sheep not to be put through the water. The thick fleece staysdamp for many days, and unless the creature is range-bred and thereforeused to all weather it suffers a shock, and is liable to be sick. Youcan't shear a flock until about two weeks after washing, for not onlymust the fleece dry, but new yolk must form in the wool. If the wool istoo dry the shears will not slip through it. "

"But by the end of two weeks I should think the sheep would have hisfleece all dirty again, " objected Donald. 

"That is just the point--he does. "

"Why couldn't you wash the fleece after it is taken off?"

"We could. It is done sometimes. Your father can tell you that he sendsoff wool and has it scoured before selling it if a buyer wishes itdone. "

Mr. Clark nodded. 

"But here, " continued Sandy, "we wash no fleeces. We do take care, though, not to tie very dirty pieces in with the fleece. My fatheralways insisted on the tying being honest. Only wool went into thebundle. You and your father must watch and see how quickly they do thetying. "

As Sandy flitted away again Mr. Clark and Donald made their way to thelong table where the boys who went about among the shearers andcollected the fleeces were tossing them down. 

Each fleece was spread out on the table, the belly and loose ends foldeddeftly inside; then the whole was fastened into a square bundle. 

"It would seem as if any twine would do to tie a package like that, wouldn't it, Don?" said Mr. Clark. 

"Of course. "

"It is not so, " went on his father. "There is nothing about which awool-grower has to be more careful than about the twine with which heties his fleeces. You must always avoid using a fiber twine--by that Imean hemp, or any variety having fibers which will break off in thewool. These fibers or particles get stuck in the fleeces, and later whenthe wool reaches the mill, the mill people do not like it. Either thebits of hemp have to be picked out--an endless job--or the wool is sentback. You can see that they could not dye wool with all these littleparticles in it. The hemp would take a different color from the rest ofthe wool, and would result in specked goods. "

"What kind of twine do we use, father?" asked Donald, much interested. 

"We use a paper twine. Other growers often tie their fleeces with glazedtwine. "

"I never should have thought twine could make so much trouble, " musedthe lad. 

"You would think of it, though, if you had once been set to pickingfiber out of wool as I was when I was a boy!" interrupted Sandy, as hedarted past. 

Donald and his father followed at the heels of the young Scotchman as hewent through into another shed where the wool was being packed. Here laygreat piles of tied fleeces and heaps of loose wool. About the shedstood wooden frames from the center of which swung burlap sacks used forpacking the clip. 

"Why do the men first stuff the two lower corners of the bags with wooland tie them?" the boy asked after he had looked on a few moments. 

"We call those corners ears, " replied his father. "Sacks of wool are notonly awkward to handle but very heavy, and it is a help to have thecorners, firmly tied, to take hold of. "

Donald nodded. He was too busy looking about him to reply. 

The men packing the wool took one of the burlap bags, fitted its mouthover a wooden hoop just the right size, and fastened the bag inside theframe in such a way that it hung its full length and just cleared thefloor. 

Then the packer began tossing wool into the sack. 

When it was about half-full he jumped into it and tramped the fleecesdown solidly. 

Afterward he climbed out and another man wheeled a truck under theframe; then the packer freed the sack, and when it dropped it waspromptly sewed up and wheeled to the scales, where it was weighed. Itsweight was entered in a book by a man who kept the tally and the samefigures were also roughly painted on the bag. 

"And there's the end of it!" exclaimed Sandy, who came up and stoodbeside Donald as Mr. Clark walked away. "Now you know the wool business, Don!"

Donald shook his head. 

"It will take me longer than this to know the wool business, " heanswered. "I mean when we get home, though, to get father to tell me therest of it--about the selling and manufacturing. "

"That part would be new to me too, " said Sandy. "Here we have noselling; we do not even auction off our own wool, as you see, for ourclip goes direct to our owners. But when a ranch sells its wool to otherbuyers the manager has lively days, I can tell you. Both Anchor and StarRanch sell to brokers. They send out word that they have wool for saleand the Eastern buyers swarm here like flies. They bid on the wool--bidright against each other, even though sometimes they are the best offriends. The men get an idea of the price they want to pay by lookingover the fleeces and seeing how they will grade up. Above everythingelse a wool buyer must have a trained eye, quick to detect the qualityof the shipment offered for sale. That is what decides him on how highhe will bid. After the buyers have got up to what they consider areasonable price they stop bidding. The wool-grower must then accept thehighest bid. "

"But he may not be satisfied with the price, " put in Donald. 

"It makes no difference. They are supposed to make a fair bid on theclip. "

"What if he shouldn't take it?"

"Why, then all the brokers who have bid on the wool leave town pledgingeach other not to bid on that particular shipment of wool for twoweeks, " replied Sandy. 

"Why?" inquired Donald, opening his eyes. 

"It is to protect the brokers. You can see the justice in it when youthink a moment. These Easterners are busy men and they come a long way. They can't take a trip to some far-off ranch only to find thewool-grower has decided not to sell his fleeces; or that he will notsell them below a certain price. If a man really does not want to sellhe must not get the buyers there; if he does he must be content withwhat they offer. Your father would have to buy his wool this way if hedid not own Crescent Ranch; and even so he may send men to buy wool atoutside ranches too, for all I know. "

"I am going to ask him, " Donald said. 

"Do not ask him now. He might not want to talk his business over here. Wait until you get back East. "

"I hate to think of going back home, Sandy, " the boy declared, regret inhis tones. 

"All good things must come to an end, lad. You will go back, finish yourschooling, go to college as your father wishes, and then, a gentlemangrown, you will be choosing some work. "

Sandy studied Donald keenly. 

"Yes, I suppose that is just what I shall do. I am thinking some ofstudying law, Sandy. "

The Scotchman's face fell, but Donald did not notice it. 

"I've always thought I should like to stand up in court and make a greatplea--a speech that would sweep people off their feet, " went on Donald. "Or, " he added reflectively, "I may be a judge. "

Sandy scratched his head. 

"There's a good bit step between studying law and being a judge, " saidhe. 

"Perhaps after all I may decide not to be a judge, " ruminated Donald. "Ihave always wanted to manage a baseball team and I may think I wouldrather do that. "

"Go on with you!" Sandy cried. "Next you'll be having yourself alighthouse-keeper. " Then he added wistfully: "But no matter what youare, laddie, dinna forget Crescent Ranch. "

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XII

HOME TO THE EAST

Within two weeks Thornton, Mr. Clark, and Donald were back inMassachusetts, and the thread of Eastern life was once more taken up. 

Donald did not return to school, since it was now so near June that toenter the class seemed useless; instead it was decided that he shouldhave a tutor through the summer to help him make up the work he hadlost, and thereby enable him to go on with his class in the fall. Thistutor, however, had to be found, and until he was the boy was free fromduties of every sort. It gave him a strange sense of loneliness to bewith nothing to do. All his friends were in school--there was no one toplay with. 

"I think I'll go in to the office with you, father, " he suggested onemorning. "It is stupid staying round in Cambridge when all the fellowsare slaving for their exams. I have been so busy while out on the ranchthat now I do not know what to do with myself. "

Mr. Clark agreed to the proposal cordially. 

In consequence it came about that Donald joined Thornton at the largeBoston warehouse. The store was not new to the boy, for he had oftenbeen there with his father; but to Thornton this part of the woolbusiness was as novel as the first glimpses of ranching had been toDonald. The high building of yellow brick with floor after floor ofhurrying men, the offices noisy with the hum of typewriters, the ring oftelephones, the comings and goings of messenger-boys andmail-carriers--all this little universe of rush and confusion was anuntried world to Thornton. Its strangeness dazed him. 

Mr. Clark promptly placed him in the accounting department, but to hissurprise Thornton foundered there helplessly. It was one thing to keepbooks amid the quiet and leisure of Crescent Ranch, and quite another tostruggle with columns of figures in the riot of modern businesssurroundings. At the end of three days the Westerner looked gray andtired, and had accomplished nothing. 

"I don't know what I am going to do with him, Don, " announced Mr. Clark, much troubled. "I have brought him here from Idaho, and of course I ambound to look out for him; yet there does not seem to be an earthlything he can do. My plan was to set him to keeping books in Cook'splace, and send Cook out to Crescent Ranch to help Sandy. Sandy, youknow, cannot handle accounts. Poor lad--he had little opportunity forschooling in his youth, and the financial side of his work is his oneweak spot. He realizes this himself, and it was only on the conditionthat I send him an assistant that he would undertake the management ofthe ranch at all. I expected, as I say, that Cook would go; evidently, however, Thornton is not going to be able to fill his place. What shallI do with Thornton, Don? We must find a niche for him somehow. "

Donald reflected a moment. 

"Had you thought, father, of trying him up-stairs?" he asked. 

"No, I hadn't. We need a foreman up there, but I had not consideredThornton for the position. That is a happy inspiration, son. We willgive him a try. He may make good yet. "

Accordingly Thornton was sent to the upper floors of the warehouse, where the wool was stored. Here were great piles of loose wool reachingfrom floor to ceiling. Some piles contained only the finest wool; otherpiles that which was next-best in quality; still other piles were madeup of the coarser varieties. There were piles of scoured wool, piles ofSouth American and Australian wool--wool, wool, wool everywhere!

With keen interest Thornton looked about him. He wandered from one vastpyramid of fleeces to another, catching up handfuls of the differentvarieties and examining them. Then he walked to where the men were busyopening the first spring shipments of wool from Crescent Ranch. Thewool was emptied from the sacks onto the floor in great heaps, and crewsof men--skilled in judging the fiber--set to work to sort it, separatingthe different qualities into piles. Donald, who was looking on, saw asmile pass over Thornton's face--the first smile that had brightened itin days. Then, almost instinctively, the ranchman rolled up his sleevesand began to grade wool with the other men. He worked rapidly, for hewas thoroughly familiar with what he was doing. 

The next day when Donald went up-stairs he found Thornton directing alot of green hands who were packing the sorted, or graded wool, in bags. Later in the week it chanced that the man who weighed the wool fell illand the Westerner took his place at the scales, seeing that the sacks ofwool were correctly weighed and recorded, that they were sewed upstrongly, and marked for shipping. 

Gradually the men, recognizing Thornton's ability, began to defer to hisjudgment. The month was not out before Clark & Sons began to wonderwhat they had done before Thornton came. So familiar did he make himselfwith the stock that even Mr. Clark sent for and consulted him aboutorders and shipments. 

"He is proving himself a thoroughly useful man, Don, " declared Mr. Clarkrubbing his hands with satisfaction. "His knowledge of the ranch and ofthe wool itself is invaluable. It is just a case of putting the peg intothe proper hole. Thornton was like a fish out of water here in theoffice. Now he is in his element. I shall make him foreman of theshipping department--a position just suited to him, and which he willfill well. "

"I am so glad he has made good, father, " said Donald. "Now, what are yougoing to do about an assistant for Sandy? That is the next question tosettle, I suppose. Have you found any one?"

"Not yet. I have had a great deal to do, Don. I shall, however, look upsome one as soon as possible. In the meantime, before you start in withyour tutor, and Thornton gets so rushed that he cannot be spared, I wantto take you both to Mortonstown to visit the Monitor Mills. Thorntonhas never seen the manufacture of woolen goods and will be the moreintelligent for doing so; as for you, I am anxious to have you completethe story of wool-growing which you began at Crescent Ranch. To stopshort of visiting a mill now would be like reading the opening chaptersof a book and never finishing the volume. "

"I do want to know the rest of the story very much, father, " Donaldreplied. "I told Sandy when I was out West that I hoped you would sometime take me to a mill. Since we got home, though, you have been so busythat I did not like to ask you. "

"That was thoughtful of you, son. Ordinarily I should have preferred towait; it chances, however, that something has come up which obliges meto see the Monitor people right away. So I shall go out there to-morrow, taking Thornton with me, and if you like you may go also. "

"Of course I'd like!" exclaimed Donald eagerly. 

The next day proved to be so gloriously clear that instead of makingthe trip to Mortonstown by train Mr. Clark decided to run out in histouring-car. It was not a long ride--something over twenty-fivemiles--but to Thornton, unaccustomed to the luxury of a modernautomobile, the journey was one of unalloyed delight. 

"It is like riding in a sitting-room on wheels, isn't it?" he murmuredwith a sigh of satisfaction. 

"Some day you will be having a car of your own, Thornton, " Mr. Clarksaid, smiling. 

"And riding to Idaho in it, " put in Donald. 

"Well, it is about the smoothest way I ever traveled!" declared theranchman. "When we came East I thought that sleeping-car close to amoving palace; but this thing has the train beaten to a frazzle. You seeI am used to jolting over rough roads in springless wagons, and it issomething new to me to go along as if I was sliding down-hill on avelvet sofa-cushion. "

Donald and his father heartily enjoyed the big fellow's pleasure. 

As for Thornton, when the car came to a stop before the puffingMortonstown mills it was with regret that he dragged himself from theseat. Still, he had the ride home in anticipation--that was a comfortingthought. 

Once within the mills, however, even the memory of the homeward journeyfaded from his mind. The vast buildings throbbing with the beat ofengines, the click and whirr of bobbins, and the clash of machinery, blotted out everything else. 

When they entered Mr. Munger, the manager, who was expecting them, cameforward cordially. 

"We were glad to hear by telephone that you were coming out to-day, Mr. Clark, " he said. "Mr. Bailey, the president, is waiting to see you inhis private office. "

"Very well, " answered Mr. Clark. "Now while I am talking with him Ishould greatly appreciate it if my son Donald, and my foreman, Mr. Thornton, might go over the works. They have never visited a woolenmill. "

"We shall be delighted to show them about, " answered Mr. Munger. "I willsend some one with them. "

Turning, the manager beckoned to a young man who was busy at a desk. 

"This gentleman, " continued he, "has been with us many years and will beable to answer all your questions. Take these visitors through thefactory, Mac, show them everything, and bring them back here. Now if youare ready, Mr. Clark, we will join Mr. Bailey. "

Donald and Thornton moved away, following their guide into a buildingjust across the yard. Here wool was being sorted by staplers who wereexpert in judging its quality. They worked at frames covered with wirenetting which allowed the dirt to sift through, and as they handled thematerial and tossed it into the proper piles they picked out straws, burrs, and other waste caught in it. 

"This sorting must be carefully done, " explained the bookkeeper who wasshowing them about, "or the wool will not take the dye well. Muchdepends on having the fleeces clear of waste. We also are veryparticular about the sorting. The finest wool, as you know, comes fromthe sides of the sheep; that clipped from the head and legs is coarseand stiff. All this we separate before we send the fleeces on to bescoured. In this next room you will see how the material is washed. "

They passed on and next saw how steam was blown through the wool, notonly removing the dirt but softening the fibers. The fleeces were alsowashed in many great bowls of soap and water. 

"Here again we must exercise great care that the water is clean and thesoap pure, or the wool will not dye perfectly. We use a kind of potashsoap which we are sure is of the best make. Another thing which rendersthe scouring of wool difficult is that we must not curl or snarl itwhile we are washing it. "

"I don't see how you can help it, " Donald said. 

"We can if we take proper care, " returned the bookkeeper. 

"And what is this other machine for?" inquired Thornton, pointing to oneat the end of the room. 

[Illustration: "WHAT IS THIS OTHER MACHINE?"]

"That machine is picking the wool apart so that the air can get throughit and help it to dry. After it is picked up light and fluffy we passit through these heavy rollers, which are like wringers and whichsqueeze out the remaining moisture. Yet during all these processes wemust always be careful not to snarl the wool. See, here is where itcomes out white and clean, ready to go to the dyeing room. "

Donald regarded the snowy fleeces with wonder. 

"You would never dream it could be the same wool!" he said. "Isn't itbeautiful? It is not much the way it looks when it leaves the ranch, isit, Thornton?"

"I should say not, " agreed the Westerner emphatically. "The sheep oughtto see how handsome their coats are. "

"So they should!" answered the young bookkeeper. "You have been on aranch then?"

"We have just come from one, " Donald answered. 

"Have you, indeed! It is a free life--not much like being shut up insidebrick walls. "

"You have been West yourself, perhaps, " ventured Thornton. 

"Yes, years ago--when I was a boy; but not recently. "

"Ah, you should see the sheep country now!" Thornton went on. "It ismuch improved, I reckon, since you were there. "

"I imagine so, " the young guide answered with a wistful smile. "It is solong since I have had a breath of real air that I have almost forgottenhow it would seem. "

"If you are wanting fresh air go out on the ranges and fill your lungs. You will find plenty there, " declared the ranchman. 

"That is just what they are trying to make me do, " the young manreplied, "I have not been very well this year and Mr. Munger thinks theconfinement in the mill is telling on me. He wants me to go West for avacation. "

"And should you like to?" questioned Donald. 

The man did not answer; instead he said:

"Suppose we go on. We must not waste too much time here. In this nextroom you will see how the dyeing is done. We use centrifugal machines, and beside those we have these others to keep the wool spread andturned. With all our care not to snarl or curl it, it will get mattedand must therefore be picked apart again. So we pass it through theserevolving drums which, you see, have sets of spikes on them; as thespikes on the different drums turn they catch in the wool and pick itall apart so it is again light and fluffy as it was before. "

"Doesn't so much washing and dyeing take out all the yolk, and make thewool very dry?" inquired Thornton. 

The young man conducting them seemed pleased at the question. 

"Yes, it does! That is just the trouble. Therefore we are forced to setabout getting some oil back into it; otherwise it would be so harsh andstiff that we could do nothing with it. So we put the thin layers ofwool into these machines and carry them along to a spraying apparatuswhich sprays them evenly with oil. We use olive oil, but some othermanufacturers prefer lard oil or oleine. "

"How funny to have to put oil back into the wool after you have justwashed it out!" Donald remarked. 

"It is funny, isn't it?" nodded the bookkeeper. "Now on this side of theroom they are blending the fleeces. Sometimes we blend differentqualities of wool to get a desired effect, or sometimes we blend thewool with cotton or a different fiber. We take a thin layer of wool, then put another layer of a different kind over it. We then pick it allup together until we get a uniform mixture. "

"It is a surprise to me that the wool has to go through so much red tapebefore it comes to spinning, " Thornton said. 

"It is a long process, " responded their guide. "I remember when I firstsaw it, it seemed endless. Now I think little of it. "

"We get used to everything in time, I suppose, " Thornton answered; thenhe added whimsically: "Still, I don't think I should ever get used toriding in an automobile. "

A hearty laugh came from behind them, and turning they saw Mr. Clark andMr. Munger, the manager. 

"I came to hunt you up, " said Mr. Clark. "I have finished my interviewwith Mr. Bailey, and it seemed to me that by this time you must havefinished spinning your next-winter's overcoat, Don. "

"But I haven't, father, " retorted Donald, smiling into his father'sface. "I have not even begun to make the cloth at all. "

"The yarn is not spun yet, sir, " put in the young man who was with them. 

"You are a slow guide, Mac, I fear, " Mr. Munger laughed, laying a kindlyhand on his bookkeeper's shoulder. "That is the chief fault with youScotchmen--you are too thorough. Now let us hurry along. These gentlemenmust get back to Boston to-day, you know. "

Mr. Munger bustled ahead, conducting his visitors across a bridge andinto the next mill. 

Here was the carding room. Layers of wool entered the carding engine andwere combed by a multitude of wire teeth until all the fibers layparallel; the thin film of wool then passed into a cone-like opening andcame out later in a thick strand of untwisted fibers. 

"It is now ready to go to the drawing-frames, " Mr. Munger explained. "You will notice how these drawing-frames pull the wool into shape fortwisting and spinning, drawing it out to uniform size and finallywinding it on bobbins. The machine is a complicated one to explain, butyou can watch and see what it does. "

"How wonderful it is that machinery can do all this work, " Mr. Clarkobserved thoughtfully. 

"Yes, it is, " Mr. Munger agreed. "Years ago every part of the processwas done by hand. Little by little, however, machines have beenperfected until now we have contrivances that seem almost human. Shallwe go now and see the yarn spun?"

When they reached the spinning room with its clatter of shifting bobbinsMr. Munger turned to Donald. 

"I wonder if you know, " he said, "that wool is worked into two differentkinds of yarn--worsted yarn and woolen yarn. The fibers for worsted yarnare long and lie nearly parallel, and when woven result in a smoothsurface. Broadcloth is made from worsted yarn. Woolen yarn, on theother hand, has its fibers lying in every direction and all these looseends, when woven, give a rough surface. Of course after the cloth ismilled it comes out smooth, but it is not as smooth and fine as aworsted cloth. "

"I think I understand, " Donald said. "Are we to see the cloth wovennext?"

"Yes. You know we weave nothing but woolens; you must go to a worstedmill to see the other kinds of cloth made. The processes, though, aremuch alike. "

Mr. Munger then hurried the party to the weaving mills, where amid anuproar of thousands of moving wheels, bobbins, and shuttles the threadsof yarn traveled back and forth, back and forth, and came out of thelooms as cloth. The cloth was then steamed, pressed, and rolled orfolded. 

"And now, young man, " announced Mr. Munger to Donald jestingly, "youhave seen the whole process, and there is no reason why your fathershould not give you some wool and let you make your own cloth for yournext suit of clothes. "

Although Donald was very tired he tried to smile. 

"I think, " he said, "that I would rather grow the wool on the ranch thanmake it into cloth here. It is far nicer out on the ranges. "

"That is what I am trying to tell my young assistant, " agreed Mr. Munger. "He is getting fagged, aren't you, Mac? You see he was broughtup in the open country, and much as we think of him, we feel that heshould go back to the Western mountains. "

"Oh, I am all right, Mr. Munger, " the bookkeeper hastened to say. "Justa bit tired, perhaps--that is all. "

"If you are tired you should try the ranges of Idaho, " Mr. Clark said. "My boy, here, and myself have recently returned from a year in thesheep country and feel like new men, don't we, Don? Undoubtedly the lifethere may not be as gay as in the city; still--to quote my manager, Sandy McCulloch, 'with bears, bob-cats, and coyotes, I dinna see how itcould ever be dull. '"

So perfectly had Mr. Clark imitated Sandy's voice and accent thatThornton and Donald both laughed. Then they stopped suddenly. 

The young bookkeeper had turned very pale and was eying them with astartled face. 

"Sandy McCulloch!" he repeated. "Did you say Sandy McCulloch, sir?"

"Yes, Sandy McCulloch, " answered Mr. Clark. "Do you know him?"

"He must be of your kin, Mac!" interrupted Mr. Munger. "This lad, strangely enough, is a McCulloch himself--Douglas McCulloch. "

"Then you must be--you are Sandy's brother!" cried Donald. 

The young man swayed a little and put out his hand to steady himself. 

It seemed to Donald as if he would never speak. 

When he did his voice was tremulous with emotion. 

"Yes, " he replied almost in a whisper. "I am Sandy's brother. Tell me ofSandy and of my father. "

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XIII

DONALD DECIDES

It was a wonderful story, Donald thought. 

He was never tired of living over how, in visiting the Mortonstownmills, they had so unexpectedly found Douglas McCulloch; how, because ofill health, he was on the point of going West; and how, with Mr. Munger's permission, Mr. Clark had offered him the position as Sandy'sassistant at Crescent Ranch. It was little short of a miracle that ithad all come about!

It was interesting, too, to hear what had happened to Douglas after heleft Idaho. When he first reached the East it was indeed a rudeawakening from his dreams of city life; living was expensive, and workhard to find. Chance had borne him to the Monitor Mills where, becauseof his knowledge of wool, he had succeeded in getting a job at sortingfleeces. He had worked hard and patiently, and Mr. Bailey, who was quickto appreciate faithfulness, had promoted him until he had won theposition of head bookkeeper. These years of vigorous work had, however, left their mark on one unaccustomed to long hours and little fresh air. In his heart the boy sighed for the hills--he wanted to be back again inthe Western country which he so foolishly had insisted upon leaving. Hebecame tired and thin, and the men for whom he worked were unselfishenough to see that unless he got back to the open ranges and to thesunlight he would soon be too ill to go. 

And now the chance had come--it was almost unbelievable!

"I cannot realize that I am really to join Sandy, " exclaimed theScotchman over and over. "It is almost too much good luck. As a lad Iwas so eager to get away from the range that I would never have dreamedthe time could come when I would be pining to return there. I have hadmy taste of the East! I would have gone back long ago had they not beenso good to me here. "

"But why didn't you write to Sandy, Douglas?" inquired Donald. 

"Well, you see, although my father let me leave Crescent Ranch itdisappointed him not a little to have me do so. Sandy thought, since myfather felt that way, that I ought not to go, and we had words about it. I was very angry with Sandy at the time, but I see now that he wasright. I wish I had stayed with my father. Then when I began to behomesick here and it all turned out just as Sandy had said I was ashamedto write. Even now I am almost afraid Sandy will not want to see me. "

"Indeed he will!" cried Donald. "Why, often he talked about you when wewere on the range together, and wished he might see you. My father haswired him already and he can hardly wait to get you back to Idaho. "

"If only my father were there!" said Douglas sadly. "I shall neverforgive myself that I came East and left him. I wish I had the chance tolive over again and I would do differently. "

"If we did not learn wisdom by what we do there would be no use inliving, Douglas, " Mr. Clark put in kindly. "At least you are going Westto Sandy--going to be a great help to him in his work. "

"I am so thankful that I can, " replied the younger brother. "Think ofgoing once more to Idaho and running that great ranch with him! It ismore than I deserve. "

"Make the most of your good fortune, Douglas, " Mr. Clark said, "and donot disappoint Sandy and me. "

"I will try, sir!" was the humble response. 

Douglas McCulloch was as good as his word. 

From the moment he and Sandy were united at Crescent Ranch he threwhimself heart and soul into his new work. The charm of the hills stoleover him with a fascination they had never held in those far-off dayswhen he was a restless boy, eager for the excitement of city life. Douglas had had his fling, and he returned to the vast Western landolder and wiser. 

Together he and Sandy set about improving the ranch. They subscribed tomagazines on sheep-raising; they visited other ranches and kept abreastof the times; they installed newer and more hygienic methods ofwool-growing. Never had Crescent Ranch been so perfectly run. With twointelligent and unwearying young men at its head it bid fair to outshinethe fame it had possessed in Old Angus's day. Gradually men interestedin sheeping came from far and near to visit it. Clark & Sons began to bevery proud to be the owners of such a treasure. 

Thornton, in the meantime, had become Mr. Clark's right hand man at theEastern office. From foreman he had worked up to being superintendent, and had then been promoted to traveling for the firm and selling wool. His devotion to Mr. Clark and everything that concerned him wasunfailing. 

During these years Donald had completed his school work; had taken hisfour years at college; and loyal to his early ambition, had entered theLaw School. If it was a disappointment to his father for him to choosethe law instead of a business career Mr. Clark did not say so. He keptclosely in touch with the boy's studies and was proud of the futurebefore him. 

It was just as everything seemed to be moving so ideally that the firstgreat calamity fell upon Clark & Sons. One morning a telegram came fromSandy saying that a big fire had swept the ranch, leveling to the groundhouse, barns, and sheep-pens. The blaze had come about through no one'scarelessness. Lightning had struck the central barn, and before aidcould be summoned the entire place had been destroyed. 

Fortunately no one had been injured. The herders, together with theirflocks, were on the range; and the crops of alfalfa had not been cut andwere therefore saved. 

"It might have been much worse, Don, " said Mr. Clark in reviewing thesituation. "We have lost no men, no sheep, no hay, no wool. Suppose thefire had come in shearing time and had destroyed all the fleeces; orsuppose the blaze had come about through carelessness and Sandy andDouglas had had themselves to blame for it. As it is, it is nobody'sfault--I am glad of that--and nothing has been lost but can be restored. The buildings are well covered by insurance and can be rebuilt duringthe summer. The chief trouble is that all this has happened at a timewhen I am very busy. I ought to go to Idaho, but I hardly see----"

"Can't I go, father?" interrupted Donald quickly. "I don't see why Icouldn't adjust the insurance and help about having new buildings putup. Sandy and Douglas have good judgment, and before I started you couldtell me just what you want done. Besides, " he added shyly, "I am nowthrough my first year at the Law School and have some little knowledgeof legal affairs--that is, I know more than I used to. "

Mr. Clark beamed. 

"You could go in my place perfectly well, Don, if you are willing togive up your summer vacation to it. It would certainly be a great help. But how about those house-parties you had planned for?"

"I can decline those, father. I'd be glad to go!" was Donald's reply. "Ialways promised Sandy I would come West again some time, and I shouldreally enjoy another glimpse of the hills. "

So it was arranged. 

Within two days Donald was speeding West, and almost before he realizedit he was back at Crescent Ranch. 

Then came letters for Mr. Clark. 

The insurance was adjusted and with the aid of the McCullochs, Donaldwas drawing up plans for new barns--barns with cement floors, and farbetter ventilated and equipped than the old ones had been. Almost everyday brought to the Eastern office pages and pages of sketches forsheep-folds and modern contrivances for lessening the labor ofwool-growing. Every line of these letters bubbled with enthusiasm. Therecould be no possible question that Donald's heart was in every word hewrote. 

Summer passed and the time for the beginning of the college term drewnear. 

Mr. Clark began to look for the boy's return. 

Still there was no Donald!

Then came another letter:

 _Crescent Ranch, Glen City, Idaho. _

 DEAR FATHER:

 You have been so generous in letting me follow out my own wishes as to my future, that I hardly know how to write you. I hope you will not be disappointed when you hear what I am going to say. The fact is, dad, after thinking the matter well over I have changed my mind about studying law. I have become tremendously interested in Crescent Ranch and in wool-growing, and I am wild to jump into the work. 

 If I thought you approved I should like to stay out here and see the buildings finished and then go to Kansas City with Sandy to select more sheep. If, however, you wish me to continue my law course I am perfectly willing to come East and take my degree. 

 Please wire. 

 Affectionately your son, DONALD CLARK. 

Donald's father read the letter twice. Then he called his stenographer. 

"Lawson, " he said briskly, "I want to dictate a telegram and have youget it off right away. Here is the message:

 "_Mr. Donald Clark, Crescent Ranch, Glen City, Idaho. _

 "Cut out the law. Take up sheeping. Three cheers for you!

 "(Signed) WILLARD PAYSON CLARK. 

"Now repeat the message. "

The stenographer did so. 

Mr. Clark chuckled aloud. 

"That is O. K. , Lawson. Send it along as soon as possible. Oh, andLawson--here is a gold-piece which goes with that telegram. Keep it inmemory of this day, for it is the happiest one of my life. Mr. Donald iscoming into Clark & Sons!"