The Story of Wool Part 19

THE SHEARING

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

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

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

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

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

"I get it from generations of shepherds who have tended the black-faced sheep among the broom and the heather on the hills of Scotland, I doubt not," answered Sandy.

"Well, it stands you in good stead, however you come by it," Jose called over 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 said gravely to the boy beside him.

"I am sure it will. Isn't it splendid, Sandy, to see the herders all so pleased and ready to follow out your orders? I think nothing could have made 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 hope for, and I would not have wanted to take the job from Thornton. But since he is going East and is to be well provided for it makes everything 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 place and, loving the ranch so well, I took it on myself to send for him. But I told no tales. It was his task to find the flaws if there were any. I am no certain what he found and I dinna want to hear. I simply know the snarls have straightened themselves out, and that Crescent Ranch is now going on better than it has in years. The men have all been glad for a glimpse of your father. It is no so much fun working for somebody you have never seen. It has been a great thing to have him come. And as for the 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 was indeed, as Sandy had declared, a fine sight.

The herders were not a little proud of the thickness of the fleeces of their respective flocks and much good-natured banter pa.s.sed between them.

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

The swarthy herdsman grinned.

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

Both men laughed and pa.s.sed on.

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

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

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

"Why, you see, lad, it is much more convenient to have the wool clipped near the railroad. In that way we do away with carting it. The fleeces can 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 done by electricity and not by hand, you know."

"It is mean of me to make you answer questions, Sandy, when you are in such a hurry," Donald ventured hesitatingly, "but I wish you had time to explain 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 to meet Thornton and Mr. Clark as soon as possible at the shed where the shearing was to be done. Nevertheless, in spite of his haste, Sandy tried as he went along to answer Donald's question.

"There was a time long ago when all shearing was done by hand. In the spring bands of traveling shearers came from ranch to ranch and sheared the flocks for so much a day. Sometimes these men were Mexicans, sometimes Indians. As they made a business of shearing and nothing else they became verra skilful with the shears and could turn off many fleeces a day. It is an art to shear a sheep. Many a try must you have before you can do it. The smaller ranches still shear by hand, for it does 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. The chief advantage in machinery is that it takes the wool off closer, and you do not need such skilled men to do the work. You just have to remember not to shear flocks this way in summer, for the wool would be cut so close that your sheep would be wild with flies and sunburn before their coats grew long enough to protect them."

They had now reached the plant, where they were to meet Donald's father and Thornton; they mounted the steps of the low building and went in.

Immediately they were greeted by the whirr of wheels, the chatter of many 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 is just 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. He is 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 its rump, and holding it with his left arm so its hoofs cannot touch the floor. They say sheep never kick or struggle if their feet are raised from the ground. Now he is starting with the shears. See! He is opening the wool by a cut down the right shoulder. How neatly the fleece comes off--almost in one piece, as if it was a jacket!"

"I guess that was a smooth-skinned sheep," laughed Donald, "or the shearer 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 wrinkly Merinos loose their coats pretty fast. Watch and see. I have one right here."

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 pa.s.sing and heard his words. "You mustn't do everything this trip, or you'll have nothing to look forward to when you come again."

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