The Story of Wool Part 15

"Why do you call Sandy just a herder, father?" Donald asked, seeming to fear 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 his own sheep--sheep that belong to him; a herder, on the contrary, is a man hired to care for other people's sheep. There is a great difference, you see. Generally speaking, a shepherd will take more pains with a flock than a herder will on the principle that we are more interested in our own 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 our herders are honest men--I am convinced of it. After the next shearing I mean to give to each man a small band of sheep for his own. He may run them 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 should like 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 kept him 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 and much of our business is in his hands. He knows it. If he proves himself worthy, I shall appoint him, when we leave here, as manager in Johnson's place; if he abuses the confidence I am placing in him he will force me to 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 is doing. You will be miles away in the hills. He could do almost anything he chose. Have you left some one to watch him, father?"

"No, indeed, son. That would be a mean method; don't you think so? To set 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 guard over 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 Sandy that 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 Don speculated constantly as to what could be in store for him. It seemed a long journey for he was impatient to solve the waiting enigma. What surprise could Sandy have concocted? At the border of the Reserve they met the ranger who chanced to be patrolling that portion of the government line. He remembered Donald very well and greeted him kindly; he also had a cordial word for Mr. Clark. Donald, however, begrudged even this brief delay and was glad when they plunged into the woods and were on their way through the National Forest.

Pete, the Mexican camp-tender who had come with them as guide, knew the country as an American boy knows his A B C's. He hunted out sheltered nooks where they could camp at night, taking great care to build the fire on a rocky base that it might not set ablaze the brush and litter of 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 person who did not put out his fire, or scattered sparks in the dried underbrush. Old Angus trained us Crescent men always to build our fires on a flat rock if we could; then there is no danger of our doing damage in the reserve or elsewhere."

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

So they journeyed on--now in the sunlight of the plateaus, now in the shadows of the forest. Then one morning they suddenly emerged into an emerald meadow glowing with sunshine. There a beautiful sight met Donald's eye.

Spread out like a fan the herd was grazing on the rich herbage of the mountain pasture, their backs to the brilliant light as was their wont.

But of these details Donald was not conscious. What held him spellbound was the miracle that had happened in his absence. Now he knew the surprise that Sandy had for him! Beside every ewe in the flock stood a tiny white lamb!

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER IX

A SECOND ADVENTURE

Donald's delight at being back on the range was equaled only by Sandy's pleasure at having him there. The first thing, of course, was to display the 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 of chicks!" laughed Donald's father. "Well, you have a right to be pleased with your herd. You have a fine lot of lambs."

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

"Are--are--lambs always so long-legged?" queried Donald timidly, anxious not to hurt Sandy's feelings. "These seem to have no bodies at all--just legs."

"That is their nature, lad. They have only enough body to keep their legs alive. Young lambs are ever like that. Later they fill out. It is their strong legs that enable them to travel with the flock as soon as they are three or four weeks old. But I am proud of them--legs or no legs. Now that they are here, our next task is to bring them through alive. We have lost but a few thus far. Luckily we had several sets of twins, so we have been able to give a lamb to every mother sheep that lost her baby. We fasten the strange lamb inside the skin of the dead one, and the mother is as well pleased as if she had her own back again."