CIRCLE K OR ^IfV^INX^SA Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2007 with funding from IVIicrosoft Corporation http://www.archive.org/details/circlekorfightinOOsabirich BY EDWIN L. SABIN BAR B BOYS: or, The Young Cow Punchers RANGE AND TRAIL . or, The Bar B*s Great Drive THE CIRCLE K : or, Fighting for the Flock Each, cloth, 8vo. $1.50 BEAUFORT CHUMS, lamo. 75 cents Each volume JtiUy illustrated " Edwin L. Sabin writes books for boys in a way that Idi'&cvadA^stytTy'boy"— Journal 0/ Education. THOMAS y. CROWELL COMPANY See p. 153. THE SHARP REPORT, AND THE GREAT LEAP OF THE COYOTE." THE CIRCLE K OR FIGHTING FOR THE FLOCK BY EDWIN L. SABIN AUTHOR or " BAR B BOYS," " RANGE AND TRAIL," ETC. Oh, I want to be a sheepman, An' run a woolly band ; Some wool upon my whiskers, A sheep-hook in my hand. Haney the Texan's Song. NEW YORK THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY PUBLISHERS COPTRIOHT, 1911, B¥ THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY. BUNCH OF CHAPTERS CHAPTER I. The Gathering of the Flocks II. Drifting with the Storm . . III. An Old Acquaintance . . . IV. The Shearing of the Sheep . V. Big Ben the Mormon .... VI. The Great Shearing Match . VII. Lambing Range Warnings . . VIII. More Warnings ..... IX. Kitty, the Dog X. Coyotes, Sheep and Outlaws . XL Again an Old Acquaintance . XIL The Scourger of the Flock . XIII. A Comedy and a Tragedy . . XIV. Bad News from the Box . . XV. The Sheepman's Shot. . . . XVI. A Little Surprise Party . . XVII. When Lambs lose their Tails XVIII. The Rider of the Flock . . . XIX. A Meeting on Ptarmigan Flats XX. Ephraim comes for Mutton . XXL Grizzly Dan on the Trail . XXII. The Smiting of the Lame Man XXIII. Back to the Lowlands . . . PAGE I 14 32 44 56 70 85 lOI 116 127 140 152 163 173 184 200 222 237 250 260 286 299 Mi3734 PICTURE TRAIL From Drawings by Clarence Rowe " The sharp report, and the great leap of the coyote" Frontispiece GPP. PAGE " In the midst of the vast, blending blackness and whiteness" 28 ** Tossing up the fleeces to a man who was filling the sack " 52 " He lifted it and threaded his way out of the herd " . 1 08 " Mr. Adams grappled the man with the limp" . . 180 " ' Hold up your hands ! ' ordered Chet " . . . . 212 " The great beast rose, standing on his hind feet" . 270 ** Down they plunged, Grizzly Dan ahead " . . . . 284 THE FLOCK Band of Old Ones: Phil Macowan — Back again in the Sage and Cedars Chet SiMMS-::::His Tentmatc over the Woollies Mr. §imms — Ex-Cowman, who is forced into Sheep Old Jess — The Old Puncher reduced to punching Burros Haney the Texan — Red-headed as of Yore Ford o^ Harvard — Still making good in the Range Country Hombre the Mexican — Who knows Sheep as well as Hosses Buster — Who hates Sheep as Badly as Ever Hungry Joe — Who thinks he has become a Cowboy The Bullet-headed Sheepman — Sassy and Stubborn as Before Pete the Cook — Promoted to be Guide Sheriff of Blanco County — On the Trail Again. Cherry — Who pays, a Little Visit The Professor — Her Father The Man with, the One Eye — Who finds that the Wages of Sin^is Death The Man with the* LiMP — Who is smitten in his Triumph Charley Pow-wow — The Ute, alsp on the Trail Again Horses — Medicine Eye, Pepper, Lady,' Monte, and just a few others of the old Bar B'Herd *" Band of New Ones: Gus— Wyoming Herder, Many Years with Sheep Kitty — His Dog Luis — Californian Herder and Champion Shearer BoNiTA — His Dog Big Ben — Shaggy Mormon Shearer, and Champion Mr. Admun — Wbose Pens will shear 60,000 Sheep Billy Adams — Box Herder, and Liyiger from Yale Saddle X. Rider — The Spy in the Camp. Sheriff of Rico County— Small Outside but Big Inside Molly Gibson — Who finds the West So Romantic Grizzly Dan — Old-Time Trapper, who was with Fre- mont The Brown-Legged Rascal, The Old Black-Face Fool, Twins, Bums, and Other Circle K Sheep BOOK CAMPS The Mesa Sage Country and the High Mountain Plateaus THE CIRCLE K CHAPTER I '-' ;, i !''/;'.' THE GATHERING OF THE FLOCKS Spring had come to the Western sheep range, and throughout all the wide domain of sage and sky the sheep were moving. From an airship poised high above, anyone with eyes to see might have witnessed a wondrous sight; for across the vast gravelly plains of Montana and Wyoming, the rolling dun reaches of Utah and the whitish sands of New Mexico, through the billowy brush of Oregon and Idaho, and amidst the rocky mesas and the aspen vales of southwestern Colorado, thousands upon thousands, in close-packed column after column, as a great woolly army were trailing steadily onward, under sun and dust, the sheep, in annual pilgrimage from the low deserts of winter to the lofty plateaus of summer. Behind, in their sturdy canvas-topped wagons, or ahorse, or trudging afoot, followed the guardian herders — ^hard- worked, silent men, accustomed to solitude, but glad now to be exchanging the winter monotony for the shearing pens and the lambing range. About where Colorado and Utah join, the sage- brush sheep-land had been basking for two weeks in the April sun. Gently rolling, grayish-green with 2 THE CIRCLE K the sage and umber with the soil of clay and gravel, with its buttes and its flat-top mesas or " tables " hazy and mysterious like battlemented fronts of Indians' happy hunting-grounds, league after league it lay, .face upward to the soft sky. The heavy snows of January, February and March had melted away '-save as. ihey were held packed in the hollows, or as they lingered in patches and streaks on the bluish ridges of bald mountains far distant. The sage and grease-wood were greening at their tips, and the run- ning sap was scenting the warm air with its whole- some aroma. Through the brush, the stiff branches of which rasped against the stirrup leathers, this afternoon are riding three figures. The man's name is Simms. His face is lean and rather stern but not displeasing, and is bronzed with the weathers of many years in the open ; he has a hawklike nose, a grayish moustache and goatee. He sits his long-stirruped, high-horned sad- dle with the perfect ease of a cowman. One of the boys — in old overalls and jumper, with the honest, freckled, round face and wide blue eyes — is Chet Simms ; the other, in the new overalls, the old jumper, and with face, tanned not at all, is Phil Macowan. However, he is no greenhorn on the range, despite his town pallor. He has ridden before with Mr. Simms and Chet, in the Bar B outfit on the Owl Creek cow range, and last year he was in that famous long drive of the Bar B cattle from New Mexico up into Colo- rado. But now he was about to turn sheep-herder — a call- THE GATHERING OF THE FLOCKS 3 ing which had been drummed into him as being be- neath the dignity of any cowboy. The old Bar B had taken up sheep. Chet's news of the change had astounded him, and after his winter at home he had come out again to see for himself. *' I can't get it through my head, yet," he was say- ing. " We've shed our chaps, boy," quoth Mr. Simms. *^ We've gone into sheep and overalls. When those Eastern capitalists last fall started their reservoir up in Cathedral Park they spelled the doom of the Bar B range — yes, and of the Lazy J, too. All that region where you and Chet and the other men (Phil liked that w^ord "men ") rode after cows will be under ditches, in a year or two, and fenced by ranchers. There won't be any open range, except on the forest reserve — and sheep are crowding that. We'll all have to turn ranchers; whether I'll make a sheep-man first I don't know, but I'll try it." " That reservoir is to be right where we camped, at Coyote Springs, during the round-up, after Pete had shot the man with the frozen smile," explained Chet. " Where I got this rifle," affirmed Phil. He and Chet each rode with a rifle under the leg. " Yes, and where Cherry joined us," supplemented Mr. Simms. Thus each had spoken of what appealed to him the most. Chet was for the shooting of the rustler, Phil for the rustler's gun which he had won, and Mr. Simms for the girl whom they had rescued out of the rustlers' hands. 4 THE CIRCLE K " Pshaw ! '* Phil sighed regretfully. It seemed a pity that the country of cattle wild and half wild, of wild horses and wild beasts and even of wild men was to be gentled and turned into farms. " Where are we going now ? " " We'll meet our sheep, coming in to the shearing pens." " Are Haney and the rest with you? " Phil asked hopefully. " Haney and Ford, and Old Jess and Hombre ; and weVe got a couple of new men." "Where's Buster?" Mr. Simms laughed. "Oh, Buster balked. He almost wanted to fight me because I invited him along. He's with some cow outfit over north of us here. He and Hungry Joe." " Hungry Joe ! " Phil recalled Hungry Joe — the cadaverous greenhorn who had been engaged as wran- gler for the horse-herd or remuda on the trail up from New Mexico last summer, and whose imagined dys- pepsia and very real appetite had much amused the camp. " So he's cow-puncher, is he ? " " Kind of." " He's not any good, though," asserted Chet. " Will Cherry be out this summer? " " We don't know yet." " She says maybe we'll see her," put in Chet. " She signs herself Cherry to us; doesn't she to you? " " She says she's Cherry in the West, even if she does have to be Gwen out East in Oklahoma," con- tinued his father. THE GATHERING OF THE FLOCKS g ' " Where are the man with the one eye and the man with the limp? " " Foley the one-eyed man was sent to the peniten- tiary for life, but they let the man with the limp go; and he's the worst of the two/' informed Chet. *' He turned state's evidence," explained Mr. Simms. " He swore the other fellow shot that bristly man. Cherry sent in her report, but she couldn't tell, it was done so quick. So they gave him a clean bill of health, and told him to skin out ; and he did. He's slippery. Seem to me there are influences backing him. But he'd better not show himself in our coun- try," and Mr. Simms' face settled grimly. He had scores to square with Joe, the lame man, rustler, and general outlaw. " There are the sheep," added Mr. Simms, nodding briefly ahead. Above a sagy swell before w^as floating a thin cloud of dust, through which the sun struck golden; con- fused and murmurous was wafted to their ears a multitude of baas; but the sheep themselves were on the other side. "Ours, dad?" queried Chet. " Think they must be. We're the first over the line, I hear." The three rode on. Phil's heart sank. He had seen sheep before and didn't like them. He didn't know exactly why he was opposed to them ; only, it had been the fashion with the Bar B and other cow outfits to scold about sheep and sheep-men whenever the topic 6 THE CIRCLE K arose. There seemed to be nothing glorious in at- tending sheep; nothing glorious and free, as in the cowboy's daily work. " It's the crowd," remarked Mr. Simms, as they themselves topped the swell, and looked down from it. " I see Haney and Ford ! " exclaimed Chet. In a compact rectangle, broadside front, two hun- dred yards wide and one hundred deep, a mass of sheep were being driven down the brushy draw beyond the swell. Three herders on horseback were behind and at the flanks, and a dog was scampering hither and thither, from flank to flank. His yapping, and the voices of the men mingled with the uninterrupted baaing, uprose to the three spectators halted on the brow above. " Aw, sheep ! " exclaimed Chet, in great disgust. " What did you get 'em for, dad ? Don't you say so, Phil? We're cow-punchers; we don't day-herd woollies." " Yes, you do. You day-herd them and night- herd them too, if you work for me," reproved his father, sharply. " You'll find that being cow-boy is not the only man's job in the West. There's plenty of good hard work in handling sheep — and plenty of spunk required, too. You'll earn your thirty-five or forty a month — and more that you won't get. So I want you to quit despising sheep. I've too much money in them to despise them, myself. It's poor policy to complain of the bridge that carries you over." Chet giggled. THE GATHERING OF THE FLOCKS 7^ " But think of Haney and Ford being sheep- herders. I wish Buster was here." They rode on down. As they drew near, one of the herders waved a big black hat and vented a shrill cow- boy yell of welcome. His bright red hair fairly gleamed in the setting sun, his almost equally red face glowed. " Howdy, Smith-Jones," he called, to Phil. " Gwine to tuhn sheep-jingler, too?" This was Haney, the Texan. Phil grinned back. " Sure," he said. " Smith- Jones'll keep the bears off," announced Haney, generally, his freckled countenance, where in spite of thin, firm lips and decisive aquiline nose good- humor shone, perfectly sober. " Terrible man with a gun, is Smith-Jones." Ford, the Bar B rider from Boston and Harvard, rode across and shook hands with Phil. ** Back on the range again, are you, boy?" he greeted. "Well, what do you know about sheep?" " Nothing," answered Phil, promptly. " So do I," confessed Ford. He was a good-look- ing young man, with crisp dark moustache, even white teeth, and clean-shaven, firm chin. " But they haven't bit me yet, so we're getting acquainted." The boys and Mr. Simms fell in behind the drive as it proceeded. Trotting, pacing, jostling and baaing, the sheep flowed through the brush. They must have numbered three thousand. There were black faces and brown faces and white faces, black legs and brown legs and white legs, and a sprinkling of animals all black. 8 THE CIRCLE K The dust stirred up by their pattering hoofs drifted back, and bore with it a peculiar musky, unpleasant odor. " Where do we camp, Gus ? " shouted Mr. Simms, to the third herder whom Phil had been eyeing covertly. A spare, angular, flat-featured man was this Gus, evidently one of the new hands. He had thin, faded yellow moustache, faded blue eyes, tanned but faded skin, and seemed to be a Scandinavian. He sat his saddle with a slouch; his flapping drab hat was rag- ged, his blouse and overalls and shoes were ragged, his tow hair ragged. " Jess says he would meet us at Rock Creek," re- sponded Gus. '* That the other bunch, following ? No other sheep have come over yet, have they? " " Haven't heard of any, except the Box." " Yes ; they shear right after us. Come on, boys. Let's ride and see the rest of our stock." He wheeled his horse, the boys imitated, and at a lope they obliqued through the sage, making for an- other cloud of golden dust which showed against the farther side of the draw, and to rearward. But this dust was drab and not golden; for the sun instead of setting, had sunk into a bank of heavy cloud. A chilli- ness stole through the air, and Chet turned up the collar of his blouse. " That man dad called Gus is from Wyoming," he said. " He savvies sheep. He's been herding for about ten years, now. Did you see the dog? THE GATHERING OF THE FLOCKS g She's a prize sheep-dog. Gus wouldn't take five hundred dollars for her. We've got a California herder, too, with this other bunch. He's half Indian." The baaing of the second band was plainly distin- guishable. Two herders were driving these sheep, which seemed not quite so many as those of the first band. One of the herders waved his hand. This was Hombre, the sunny Mexican. "Don't try to ride through the sheep; go 'round them," warned Mr. Simms, as followed by Chet, Phil obliqued over. " Com.' la va, Meester Plieel ? " greeted Hombre, gaily. "You come herd sheeps, too? Lots of fun, hey? " He was a swarthy little man, with black eyes and flashing teeth. " Not more fun than herding horses, though, is it, Hombre ? " answered Phil. " No. Fust bosses, den cows, den sheeps. I t'ink I like bosses best. Luis, he like sheeps. He always been with sheeps. He from California. He talk Mexicano good as me." Phil observed the other new man — Luis the Cali- fornian. He was a lithe, olive-skinned and smooth- skinned man, in flaming red shirt of silky material, evidently, and an enormous high-peaked, rolling brimmed hat banded with silver; a hat larger than Haney's and more peaked than Hombre's. He sat his horse very straight, with stirrups behind rather than forward of the line of the body. His saddle had large shaggy goat-hide pockets, on either side just back lo THE CIRCLE K of the cantle. Phil recognized it as a California saddle. " Push 'em ahead, Hombre — ^you and Luis," ordered Mr. Simms. ** Shouldn't wonder if it snowed." He shrugged his shoulders. " We want to get both bands fed and bedded in time; a storm will make bad work." " It is going to snow, all right," declared Chet. " Say, but it's getting cold, isn't it! Let's put on our coats." They did. Like a general upon other commands bent, Mr. Simms was galloping on, circuiting the sheep and heading down the draw. " Come on," bade Chet, with his old familiar invita- tion. " He's looking for Jess and the burro train. They've got the tents and things. Jess is camp tender, you know." The chilliness in the air had increased; the atmos- phere had thickened. After the balmy warmth of the day the change was surprising. The coats which the boys had donned felt decidedly good. They fol- lowed Mr. Simms, passing between the two bands of sheep, out-stripping the foremost, and continuing, at invigorating pace, through the sage. " I see him! " cried Chet. '' Don't you? " Winding down the sagy slope before plodded a number of burros, with a horseman behind. "It's Old Jess and the burros, all right. Dad'll beat us, though. Come on," and with a whoop of encouragement Chet spurred his horse into a run, Phil spurred after. That was good— to be racing THE GATHERING OF THE FLOCKS ii through the brush and the boundless open again. Presently Chet pulled to a walk, and Phil overtook him. " I believe this Medicine Eye could beat Pepper, in a straight-away," said Chet. " They used to run him at country fairs; he's some racer." " He shore is," admitted Phil, broadly — not with- out a qualm of sympathy for Pepper, who was his favorite horse on the cattle range. " What other hawsses did you keep ? " " Oh, just Monte and Thunder and that Lady hawss you traded your pinto for last spring, and a few others. Don't need many hawsses for herding sheep. Don't use hawsses at all, while sheep are lamb- ing." Mr. Simms had intercepted the burro train, and was riding along with the driver. The boys, now trotting and leaning forward on the saddle horns to ease themselves, caught up, and Phil met another of his cow-range comrades — Old Jess, with leathery, wrinkled face, shoulders slightly stooped, and joints stiffened by rheumatism. A veteran who had ridden the Texas trail in the old days, was Jess, and a charac- ter to be reckoned with. But his punching days practically were over ; in the winters he had cooked at the Bar B ranch-house, until the weather urged him forth into the saddle again. " How are yuh, lad ? " he said. " Glad to see you. I'm jack-driver now. You aren't lookin' for the Texas trail again ? " " Not exactly; but I'd like to find it." 12 THE CIRCLE K '* So would I. Yuh didn't get enough last summer, then? Well, you'll get yore belly full o' sheep, mebbe." " Do you think it will snow, Jess ? " queried Chet, anxiously. " Might. My rheumatism says so," answered Old Jess. *'* Better now than after shearing," said Mr. Simms. But he looked worried. " Better not at all, though. If we get a wet snow and it freezes on the wool some- body'll lose some sheep. Is this the creek?" " Yes. Ride ahead, you boys, and turn those jacks so's we can unpack 'em." At sight of the aspens lining the water course or at smell of the water the leading burro of the long single file had broken into a trot ; and now the whole line was trotting and galloping on, with toss of head and ir- ritable kick of heel. Before the boys could turn them they had crowded to the stream ; here they drank, and rubbed packs and bit, and sidling through the trees tried to rid themselves of their burdens. " Get out o' there ! " yelled Chet. "Hi!" yelled Phil. They forced the animals into the open — where each persistently backed around, impatiently present- ing himself, hindside first, on the edge of the group, that he might be unpacked. They were smart, these burros. " Wait," said Chet ; as dismounting Phil started to fumble at the knots of a pack, for his ranch and range training had taught him to go ahead and do THE GATHERING OF THE FLOCKS 13 things. *' There'll be two camps, and we don't know, which stuff is for which." But Old Jess soon solved this difficulty, when he arrived. " You strip the packs off these three jacks," he di- rected, as he dropped a tie rope from the neck of each, for the boys to pick up ; " and George and I'll drive the rest up a ways, to the other camp. Turn 'em loose when you're done." It was rather heavy work, stripping all those packs. There were two tents, a couple of camp stoves with jointed stove pipes, quilts and blankets for bedding, and several boxes of canned stuff and other pro- visions, and cooking utensils. They made quite a pile. " Jess is a good packer, all right, isn't he ! " praised Chet. " We just unloosen one end of the rope and the w^hole thing's loose." " Is that the diamond hitch? " asked Phil. " Naw. It's some other kind of a hitch Jess in- vented. He says it's better than the diamond, and isn't so hard to throw." The instant that they were relieved, each burro gave a profound sigh, and walking a few steps rolled. Then he jumped up, shook himself like a dog, and sedately w^andered away, smelling along and browsing. CHAPTER II DRIFTING WITH THE STORM Two tents were set up here, and a third tent was set up further down, where Mr. Simms and Old Jess had unpacked the rest of the animals. For the two bands did not come in together, the sheep which Haney, Ford and Gus were driving were turned above the two tents, the second band was obliqued below the single tent. " Here's where we stay,*' quoth Chet. " We'll be with the first bunch/' The sheep of both bands crowded to the creek edge, which spread out into bogginess; and after drinking they hastened to browse on the new sage and on the grass up-springing everywhere. The horses were un- saddled and unbridled, and from the baggage hobbles were abstracted and buckled upon fore-legs. So that soon the horses also were drinking and grazing. By this time the sun was behind the western mesas ; the damp chilliness so pronounced that the boys could see their breath. It was an April change. But the camps were preparing for the night. The tents had been stretched, the bedding thrown inside, and from the projecting stovepipes the bluish fume of burning sage was streaming into the heavy air. On the outskirts of each band of sheep hovered a herder, '4 DRIFTING WITH THE STORM 15 with his dog, watchful that the sheep did not stray over-far. They seemed pesky things, these baaing, nibbling sheep, always edging out, seeking a better spot, until the herder must walk quickly and shout, or the dog must go at a run and rush them back. " You boys might pile up more sage ; get the dry, dead stuff," remarked Ford, who was cooking in one of the two tents. Old Jess was cooking in the other. " It's liable to be all covered up by morn- ing." '' Yes, suh; move araound and you'll keep wahm," commented Haney, who was sorting over the supplies, getting out a tarpaulin. " An' pity the pore sheep- herder.'^ " You used to say * Pity the pore caow-boy/ " re- minded Phil slyly. '' Pity the pore sheep-herder worse,'* said the Texan, staunchly. *' Sheep get mad and are liable to bite him." Which w^as some of Haney's sober nonsense. The sage was quickly gathered, by ax and by hand ; many of the stalks were as large as one's wrist, and must be chopped off, and all must be broken and chopped again, into short pieces to fit the stove. The collection was stowed under a corner of the tarpaulin which Haney had spread over the supplies. " Let's go over and see Hombre a minute," proposed Chet. " Supper isn't ready yet." They trudged down to the other camp. Hombre was cooking here ; he showed his white teeth in a wide smile of welcome. i6 THE CIRCLE K " Come een, come een," he bade. " I cook chile con carne. You stay ? " ''Can't stay/' said Phil. "Just thought we'd call." " Luis, he puttin' sheeps to bed," informed Hombre — whose real name was Manual, but who was always called "Hombre," or "man." "They tired; after they drink an' eat they go to sleep, mebbe. If beeg storm come, we have trouble, though." " Hombre's herded sheep before ; haven't you, Hombre?" stated diet. " Si. Lots times, down in New Mexico where I lived. Sheeps good; make most money. One man I know he start with five sheeps, and in five years he have ten t'ousand." " That's heap sheep," mused Phil. " Aw, not so many," corrected Chet. " The Burns outfit southwest of here run fifty thousand. But dad bought only five thousand." " When lambs come, den we have more t'ousand," proffered Hombre. "When is that?" queried Phil. " Little while now. Few come right away. After shearin' den we go on lambin' range. Lots to do there. Leesten ! Coy-o-te." Through the dusky chill quavered a shrill, yappy howl ; the sheep dogs barked back, from the two bands where they were working. The sheep baaed. " Is he after the sheep ? " exclaimed Phil, excited. " Si. Coy-o-te like sheeps. Like lambs better. I don't t'ink he bother sheeps to-night. Bad night for DRIFTING WITH THE STORM 17^ coy-o-tes — bad night for sheeps, too. Mebbe he follow us, though. Dog coy-o-te get to followin' sheeps, an' he never quit till he keeled. But Luis out there now. He bed sheeps close an' coy-o-te not get dem.'* " I guess we'll go back. Good-night, Hombre," said Chet. Phil knew that Chet was not afraid of any coyote ; no, indeed. He and Chet both had heard coyotes before; yes, and the great gray wolf, too. But the chill dusk settling down, the mutterings of the sheep, the sough of the wind as it commenced to blow in little gusts, and the vast sagy waste around about, impressed him with a peculiar loneliness, and probably impressed the sturdy Chet likewise. Besides, 'twas time to eat in their own tent. " All right. Good-night, Hombre." "Adios. Good-night," replied Hombre, lighting a lantern to cook by. When they had crossed the brush again both tents wxre aglow; the pungent smell of the sage fire- wood was in the air. Ford had supper ready, and the red- headed Texan was stretched upon the bedding, gravely eyeing the arrangements. " Grub pile," he sighed. " Waiting foh you, Smith- Jones. Hear that coyote ? " " Yes. Where was he? Over here? " " Just settin' raound, mouth waterin' 'foh mutton." ** There's one old wether in that band I wish he'd get," said Ford, decisively. " It's a brown-legged brute who's always sneaking off at right angles. If I've turned him in once to-day, I've turned him in twenty times." ♦ i8 THE CIRCLE K " Yes, suh," answered Haney. " Bettuh eat him ourselves. Grub pile." " Sure," spoke Ford, with a grin. *' Fall to it. Guess this coffee has boiled plenty long. Rather shy of dishes, but you eat first and Gus and Fll spell you." The two boys and Haney squatted on the bedding and the dirt floor, about the rude table fashioned of a couple of canned-goods boxes. There were fried potatoes, fried mutton, canned corn, canned butter, hot bread (biscuits), sorghum, and coffee with con- densed milk. Ford and the little sheet-iron stove had done well. " Yes, suh," remarked Haney, as if reading the thoughts. " This outfit shuah lives high." The sides of the tent swayed and thumped, as the gusty night wind swept across. In the midst of the feasting the flaps were drawn aside, and Gus, the other herder, entered, silently to seat himself by Ford and extend his brogans to the stove. *' How about it, Gus ? " queried Ford, making room. " Snow," said Gus, succinctly. His face was dank, his long, tow hair hung damply, and his ragged hat lopped. The boys glanced quickly at his blouse, but they could perceive no flakes nor drops upon it. "Already?" ** No, but it iss coming." "Sheep quiet?" " Bedded down all right. But they know." " Liable to take the back trail for Utah? " " Hardly think so. They have been over dis coun- DRIFTING WITH THE STORM 19 try before. When we strike the new country we may have trouble, though. We have trouble to-night." He talked with just a mere foreign accent. There was a scratching and a pushing at the flaps, again; and in between them poked a long, black nose. Two shining brown eyes gazed in inquiringly, even apologetically. " Get out of here ! " shouted Gus, instantly. " What's the matter with you ? Didn't I leave you on guard ? Away with you ! " The eyes and the nose disappeared instantly. " Poor pup," commiserated Phil. " Poor nothing ! " responded Gus. " She iss getting cold, is all. She knows she ought to stay with the sheep. When I want her I will tell her." He spoke flatly, without looking around, as if he somehow had resented interference; and Phil was rather abashed. But he swallowed his momentary chagrin, realizing that he was the greenhorn in the herders' quarters. Haney rinsed his dishes; the boys followed his obliging example; and now it was Ford and Gus who drew up and ate supper. The murmurings of the sheep were only fitful. Phil thought upon the dog, out there in the night and the cold which beleaguered the cosy tent, and was relieved when Gus stood, saying: " Let me take dis lantern a minute. I want to see to them sheep again." He went out. Ford promptly lighted a candle, and fastened it in its own grease, upon a box. He and Haney proceeded to clean up the dishes. '20 THE CIRCLE K "That Gus is shore a good herder, isn't he?" in- vited Chet, with his best cowboy accent. '' I reckon so," responded the Texan. "Why didn't some of us go with him?" asked Phil. " Sheep know him. You or I might have fright- ened them," explained Ford. " They're mighty timid in the dark. More timid than cattle. "Yes; he's done herded sheep so long he smells laike one," supplemented Haney. Gus returned. The dog was with him. Gus took a plate of scraps and set them outside, and the dog set to work. " Come on in when you get t'rough, Kitty," ad- dressed the herder. " You can go to bed, old girl." He pulled off his hat and loosened the dingy blue handkerchief at his throat, for the interior of the tent was warm. "Don't know whedder the rest of us can go to bed or not," he added. " Snow iss in the air. Half the sheep are up and half are down." " Some of us can sleep in the other tent," said Ford. " Send Smith- Jones," proposed Haney. " He needs lots o' room. Smith- Jones does. Fights bears an* busts hawsses all night." " No, send Haney," retorted Chet. " He's too warm in a crowd. Liable to set us all on fire." " Shuah," admitted Haney, never offended by any reference to his ruddy thatch. " Don't need any stove where I am. I'll go ovuh an' baid daown with the bawsses. Don't anybody call me 'fob breakfast; DRIFTING WITH THE STORM 21 Fm powerful tihud. Moh snow, moh wet, an' pity the pore sheep-herder." He left. Ford had finished the dishes. The four reclined on the bedding; Gus smoked his pipe. Kitty, the dog, crawled in under the canvas and established herself, with a sigh of satisfaction, behind the stove. The wind soughed mournfully; the tent strained, subsided and strained again. The mutterings of the sheep had practically ceased. Having puffed stolidly and thoughtfully, Gus began to unlace his shoes, as if preparing for bed. Ford stuck his hand out through the flaps. " No snow yet," he remarked. " It will come," said Gus. " See that foot ? That iss what tells me — that and the sheep. Dey are both wedder wised." He held out his right foot. Half of it was gone, so that the sock doubled under. " Oh—what did that? " asked Phil. "Winter before last." Without removing other clothing Gus stowed himself in under the quilts. " That wass a hard one. I wass herding up in Wyo- ming. For four weeks the thermometer wass thirty and forty below, with a lot of windt. I wass out on the Red Desert, with t'ree thousand sheep — J B outfit. Pretty soon I run out of grub and fuel, and had to go somewhere. Camp-tender never got around. Dere come on a big snow and I had to round up the sheep. They got to drifting. So Kitty and I set out. She snowed some, boys; worst blizzard ever I saw; but I couldn't lose sheep. I guess I wass kind of weak. 22 THE CIRCLE K myself, for after an hour or so I couldn't locate the wagon. You know up there we live in wagons. So I kept walking, with the windt so strong I couldn't face it. It killed my sheep. Out of the t'ree t'ou- sand we didn't find t'ree hund'red alive. We were out t'ree days and t'ree nights, Kitty and me. I reckon the dog saved me. Whenever I'd fall over she would grab me and nip me and bark until she had got me up again. In that flat country a man might walk for a mont' and more, and not fetch against anyt'ing; but I must have been half blindt, for I was going right past another sheep wagon without seeing it, when the herders ran out and took holdt of me." " Weren't you frozen? " queried Chet. " Gee! " " Well, I lost half my foot, after the doctors worked over me. But it all wasn't so bad as it sounds, except I wass crazy. Along in the course of a night and a day I began to see t'ings; fine, beauti- ful cities were right in my path, and I walked through dem with women leaning out of the windows of the houses inviting me to come in and get warm. When I would try the doors den the whole wall would fall on me, and I would find myself lying face down in the snow, with Kitty nipping and pulling at me. And dere was a farm- wagon keeping just in front of me, full of pretty little girls and drawn by four big white horses, all looking like summer. But I couldn't catch up with it. Once a sheep wagon came galloping beside me, and stopped and the fellers told me to get in. ,When I went to climb over the wheels the driver hit DRIFTING WITH THE STORM 23 me and knocked me back into the snow again. I must have lain there quite a while, becauss when I come to I was half covered with snow, and Kitty wass lying on top of me keeping me warm. Then after that dere were devils — a regular pack of dem — following me close and sticking me with sharp forks, and telling me to walk faster. That wass good for me. When I wass grabbed by those herders I fought dem; I fought that wass another of dose dreams, and that if I went to climb into the wagon I would only be knocked flat again. I'd left my own wagon Tuesday noon, and this wass Friday noon. But I lost only half of one foot; Kitty lost two toes." Suddenly Phil felt a great respect for this homely Gus, who had voluntarily risked his life to save his employer's sheep. " Yes," mused Gus, turning over and composing himself, "that wass a bad storm. I know of two herders who never were found till spring and the snow had melted. So I wass lucky. But I sure wass sorry to lose some sheep. So were the bosses." "Didn't they do something for you?" demanded Ford. Gus grunted. " Do ? Yes, dey stopped my pay while I wass laid ofif. Dey all live in town, and what iss a herder more or less compared wuth sheep ? " "They aren't all that way," declared Chet, in- dignantly. " Dad wouldn't be that way." But Gus was snoring. Beside Chet, Phil lay re- telling to himself Gus' 24 THE CIRCLE K tale, and picturing the perils of the herder on the winter range. Sheep herding took on a different as- pect to him, now; and he decided that to hold down any job in the open west required a man and a man's heart. Ford and Chet both were asleep, with the readiness of veterans, ere he had dropped off, to dream of sheep which persistently leaked past him, no matter how hard he tried to head them off. He was aroused by Gus, who had crawled out from the quilts and by the light of the lantern was pulling on his brogans. Ford also was up — sitting up. " Snowing? " asked Ford. " Yes. Blowing, too. We have to hold dose sheep. Hear dem ? " "That's right,'' said Ford; and hastily he pulled on his boots. Without waiting for more words, Phil too sat up, and crawling forward imitated the others. "Better stay in bed, hadn't you?" suggested Ford. " Gus and I can tend to them." " No; I'll help. Chet can stay, if he wants to." "Uh, uh," stammered Chet, who heavy with sleep, nevertheless was struggling from his warm nest. " Dad has us on the pay-roll. Is it snow- ing?" He sought for his boots. "What do we do?" asked Phil. " Hold dem if you can ; stay with dem if you can't," instructed Gus, shortly. "Come on, Kitty." And parting the flaps out he went. The flaps swung, and opened and shut, letting in drafts of chill air. DRIFTING WITH THE STORM 25 Ford followed, and the boys staggered after, wrest- ling into their coats. The driving snow immediately enveloped them; a damp, furious snow of large flakes which clung fast wherever they struck. Out of the night this myriad host came streaming incessant, plastering face and garments, and carpeting the ground already half knee-deep. Across the steady gale appealed the un- easy bleatings of sheep — the hoarse baas of wethers, the higher baas of the ewes; and now Kitty was barking excitedly. " They're drifting," called back Ford, striding away ; and he was lost in the whitish murk. " Come on," cried Chet, forging ahead. Stooping to cut the wind and snow the boys pushed along, guided by the complaints of the frightened flock. " Say, this is fierce, isn't it? " shouted Chet. " It sure is," agreed Phil. And it " sure " was. His boots had soaked through immediately; the snow was searching out the crevices of his turned-up coat- collar, and blinding his eyes. The tent had gone; he stumbled on the hidden brush; there was nothing before, behind, to right, to left — nothing but Chet, faintly outlined, and snow, and black sky and white ground meeting. Suddenly they encountered a fringe of sheep; all the air was full of plaintive baaing, as the distressed creatures, their wool plastered deep, their heads held low, rumps to the storm, as if blown to leeways swept slowly but steadily along, down the gale. ■26 THE CIRCLE K " You stay with these. I'll find some others," bade Chet, instinctively, out of his range training, doing the right thing. " See you later." He trudged at once out of sight; the streaming flakes swallowed him, and Phil was left with the sheep. At first he tried to stay them, by hurrying back and forth across their front, and shouting and scold- ing. But he might as well have tried to stay a broad stream of water leaking from a ditch. When he would halt one portion, the other portions flowed right on. The sheep grazed his legs, they forced by, they simply continued as if he wasn't there. And speedily exhausted by his vain running and shouting amidst the clogging snow, he came to the conclusion that the sheep were blind and deaf, and that all he could do, after all, was to " stay with them." On their flanks, with straining ear and eye, he man- fully waded. Sometimes he turned his back to the wind, sometimes he varied by turning his face. The progress was slow — too slow; slow and miserable and everlasting. About it was naught of horse-back ex- citement; naught of the excitement of riding with a stampede, as he had ridden in the summer before, on the drive up from New Mexico; it was just stoical, stubborn " staying," without romance or thrill. The baaings of the main band had been smothered by the storm and distance. There were no sounds save the fast swish of the flakes, the soft, eerie move- ment onward of the almost indistinguishable bunch, and its low, querulous bleatings as sheep spoke, as if DRIFTING WITH THE STORM 2j encouragingly, to sheep. Phil was alone, unsupported, in the midst of the vast, blending blackness and white- ness; alone, with the night, and the storm, and the hapless, helpless, drifting animals. •- Occasionally the sheep halted for a moment, and huddled; but his dash to their front resulted not at all to hold them, for in a moment, to his disappoint- ment, they resumed their resistless methodical course. And really he did not know whether he ought to hold them, now, or not. He remembered reading of sheep drifting against fences, and fatuously stopping there, in their tracks, until the snow had covered them completely — then, the herder and dog; and of the bodies of all being found together. And a little wave of despair passed through him, sickening him. Where were they going, and how long was this thing to keep up? The wind was from the south, he judged; and consequently they must be moving up the draw. If they didn't stop they would be into Utah by morning — they would be nowhere, with nothing to eat — nothing dry — they all would perish wretchedly, like other herders and other sheep in times past. But he shook himself together. After all, the air wasn't cold; it scarcely was at freezing. He was wet through, but he had been wet before; and if morning ever came he would be found. His ex- perience was nothing compared with Gus' experience up in Wyoming; and he was staying with the sheep. It seemed to him he heard a muffled voice, and he shouted at it with a long " Whoo-ee ! " An an- 28 THE CIRCLE K swer came faintly, muffled by the flakes. Somebody else was over there, then — probably also with a bunch. This was a comfort. He shouted at intervals, wel- coming the responses which now and then he evoked, and which apparently drew nearer. Things didn't seem so wet and chilly, now that he had company in his unpleasantness. After the last response he thought that he could make out a dim figure, on his right. "Who's that?" he shouted. " Howdy, Smith-Jones," came the answer. '' What you got? " " Sheep." " Don't you run into me," warned the cheery Texan. " We don't know where we're goin' but we're on our way." " Same here," called Phil. " Wish we were there." " Wish the wind would change, me," asserted Haney. " So's we'd go back again. Nice wahm baid I got out of." The two bunches were sidling toward one another, and presently, with feeble blattings, coalesced. " Haow yuh laike it, Smith-Jones ? " greeted the Texan. " Why don't yuh sing an' stop this stampede. Sing to caows; sing to sheep." And he warbled, in a cracked tenor: " Oh, I want to be a sheepman, An* run a woolly band ; Some wool upon my whiskuhs, A sheep-hook in my hand." Phil was not quite up to singing — and he never IN THE MIDST OF THE VAST, BLENDING BLACKNESS AND WHITENESS." a: DRIFTING WITH THE STORM 29 had heard of singing to sheep, anyway. But he was glad to have Haney sing. So they drifted on to- gether, calHng across. '* She's stoppin'. Smith- Jones," after a while pro- nounced the Texan. " Reckon that's mohnin', ovuh yonder, too. Sun'll shine and we'll all be wahm again. Pity the pore sheep-herder." The snow had practically ceased, and so had the wind. The sheep stood huddled together, in a closely- packed mass, spasmodically complaining. They all could be seen now, for the dusk was visibly graying; above the eastern horizon showed a strip of light ; the stars showed overhead. The storm was past. Phil tramped himself a little clearing in the snow, knee- deep, and stood, like the sheep, his charges, wait- ing. " Nice April weather," he commented, to Haney. " Yes, suh, Smith-Jones," assured the Texan ; " finest climate on earth, 'cept Texas. Needed this little snow to kill the flies. Flies eat the wool off the sheep's backs. Reckon we might drive this bunch to'd camp. Smell bacon — grub pile fob the pore herder." By dint of much shouting they succeeded in turning the sheep and starting them on the back trail. But the animals were sluggish and unresponsive, having, sheep-fashion, apparently given up hope and being resigned to stay on the one spot until they froze. For this is the way with the sheep; he never helps himself. Phil already had decided that he would rather be cowboy, on a horse. Trudging on foot, in 30 THE CIRCLE K lowly manner, urging on a pack of senseless, stubborn woollies, was far from romantic. Yet from his own small experience and from what Gus had told, he real- ized that deeds had been done in herding sheep, as well as in herding cattle. The back trail was plain, for some distance. Brighter grew the sky, and the east waxed pink. Now, a black speck on the whiteness, from down the draw came galloping through the snow a rider; and beyond him could be described a plume of bluish smoke waft- ing upward. That must be the camp. " Heah comes the bawss," called Haney, ruddy faced and still cheerful. Nothing ever disturbed the Texan's buoyant nature. " Smell bacon, me, too. See that smoke ? " Mr. Simms it was. He swept around behind, where the herders were plodding. The pink glow flooded the snow, now; the sun was well-nigh up. The sheep were evincing more interest in life, and were trying to spread out, pausing to snatch at the taller sage project- ing about the surface, and even to paw and nibble, underneath. " Go ahead in, boys," called Mr. Simms. He was riding Monte. " They'll take care of themselves, now." ** Grub pi-ile," quavered Haney; and without wait- ing for another word he made for the camp. Phil gladly followed. The prospect of dryness and breakfast appealed to him mightily. At that moment the sun appeared, pouring a sudden wealth of golden §hine across the white field ; and by the time that Phil DRIFTING WITH THE STORM 31 arrived at the tent he was hot and perspiring and wet from within as well as from without. He found Chet ahead of him, with boots extended to the crackling stove, on which Ford was cooking. Ford, too, was wet, in spots not yet dried out. Chet grinned. " How do you like it? " he asked. " All right," asserted Phil, bluffly. " I've been in just as bad places, punching cows." " Aw, but that's different," opposed Chet. " Cows aren't sheep. How far did you go ? " " Two or three miles, is all.' " We didn't. We had the dog, and all got together and sort of kept 'em milling." "Where's Gus?" " He's over to the other tent. But the dog's plumb asleep behind the stove. She's a dandy, though." And curled luxuriously in the warmth Kitty gave a little snuggle and a grunt of self-appreciation. CHAPTER III . AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE " That wass a lucky storm, all right,'* declared Gus, as between the two boys he rode along, leisurely, after the slowly ambling band. The camp had been struck, with the pack train of burros Old Jess had swung around and on ahead, the various grazing bunches, browsing through the snow, had been united into one, and with the herders partially dried by their breakfast near the stoves the day's trail had been commenced. *'That wass a lucky storm, all right. If it had caught us on the lambing range, or after the shearing, or had frozen instead of melted, we would have lost some sheep. They are shearing already up in Wyo- ming, and I bet you there will be dead sheep on the Red Desert." " Wouldn't hurt cattle, a little snow like this," as- serted Chet, sagely. " Maybe not. But I tell you one t'ing, boy — a sheep will live when a cow can't. We winter the sheep right out on the bare desert, where dey eat snow for water and paw down t' rough it for their fodder. But you take a wet snow that soaks into the wool, and then freezes, and sheep get pneumonia. I've seen sheep so heavy with snow-packed wool they could not 3« AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 33 walk. And if a cold spell ketches them right after shearing, that kills dem, too. And lambs are killed by cold, when they are young. It iss all in the wedder, running sheep in dis country. There is t'ree times the profit, over cattle, and five times the risk." The day positively was hot. 'Twas marvelous, to note the snow vanish into the- air. Already there were bared spots on the hill slopes. Above the swiftly les- sening layer of white the sage outstood fresh and green. The sheep nibbled busily, eating as they walked. They were content again. From the mass of backs arose a steam. The ten thousand and more hoofs left a broadly-trampled trail. In the rear and on the flanks rode lazily the herders; behind Gus trotted sedately, with occasional pricking of ears, Kitty the dog. The sky was blue. Peace was in the air. Ofif to the right, half a mile, trailed the other band, herded by Hombre the Mexican and Luis the Cali- fornia mestizo, or mixed blood Indian. His crimson shirt was a brilliant patch amidst the white and the blue. Thus the Circle K, five thousand strong, flowed on toward the shearing. When halt was made at noon, for lunch, where Old Jess, a welcome sight, was awaiting, the snow had al- most entirely disappeared. The sheep rested, the majority of them lying down, chewing their cuds. Having finished eating, pipe in mouth Gus strolled out among them, walking meditatively — limping on his 34 THE CIRCLE K half foot; a gaunt, ragged figure, but somehow typic- ally a shepherd. He came strolling back again. " Couple of new ones," he announced. " What's that ? " exclaimed Mr. Simms. " Lambs ? " " Yes, sir. About three minutes old." ** Where ? " The boys sprang up. " You'll find dem. Bot' black-faced mothers. But don't you go too near ; they are wild, yet ; you would be liable to make dem leave their babies and we will have two bums on our hands the first t'ing." The boys hastened to the resting band. Mr. Simms and Ford followed with less hurry. Old Jess and Haney were repacking the burros. " Give 'em our compliments," said Jess. The two mothers were easily picked out. They were standing, gazing apprehensively and nervously about, heads high, as if they (the mothers) were torn be- tween astonishment over what had occurred and fear lest something should interfere. Alternately they nuzzled and licked their babes, and stared around. At the approach of the boys they stamped with their fore- hoofs. The lambs themselves were odd little creatures — dark yellow in color, wrinkled of hide, lying weakly upon their four doubled-up legs. "Aw, jiminy!'* exclaimed Chet. "Look at 'em, willyuh!" But even as the boys did look, one lamb, and then the other, staggered to its feet, and stood, unsteadily and stupidly — and began to drink milk. They seemed to grow, each moment, did those Iambs, while they AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 35 suckled and their mothers solicitously and industri- ously licked them — ears, body and tail. " That's right. Two wet lambs," quoth Mr. Simms. " The mothers will take care of them now, if they're let alone. But sometimes young ewes, especially if they haven't had babies before, fight their lambs off and won't recognize them. Get panicky." " If dey lick them, den they keep them," ob- served Gus. Within ten minutes, when the band was started on again, the two little lambs were able to move off, by their mothers. This appealed to Phil as wonderful. ** In some places where the country iss not so rough they have lambing wagons to follow the sheep and pick up the babes and their mothers," said Gus. " We do that in Wyoming. But here in Colorado it iss too rough and the sheep dey must look out for dem- selves." " They use lambing wagons down on the plains," put in Mr. Simms. " But mainly in bad weather." One lamb turned out to be white, the other black! Evidently as in the case of human babies it was hard to tell, when they were very young, what would be the color of their hair. During the afternoon drive the phenomenon was twice repeated. The boys themselves witnessed a ewe lag on the outskirts of the band until upon the ground beside her appeared, in miraculous fashion, a lamb. Gus lingered, waiting upon her, and after twenty minutes caught up with the drive again, care- fully urging before him mother and child. The little 36 THE CIRCLE K lamb baaed in highest, thinnest soprano, the mother murmured back and solicitously licked and paused, stamping with silly, mock fierceness at the inoffensive Kitty, who paid attention with pricked ears; and the twain joined in at the tail of the herd. After camp was made that night word came from the tent of Hombre and Luis that three lambs had arrived in their band. " We'll reach the shearing pens to-morrow," said Mr. Simms, musingly. " Three days there, and then for the lambing range. And high time, too. These lambs are in a hurry." " And they won't wait," added Old Jess, with a sly smile on his wrinkled visage. " No," agreed Mr. Simms. ** They won't wait. When they're ready to come they come." Again had genial spring settled upon the Western sheep range; for the sun sank amidst one cloudless, golden horizon and rose out of another opposite. The march was resumed. The broad draw which the bands were traversing narrowed, by the middle of the morning; and soon thereafter Gus called attention to the ridge on the left. " More sheep over there," he said. " Hear dem? " Sure enough, faint but persistent were wafted in the baaings of a distant flock. " Bound for the shearing pens, like we are," re- marked Ford. " That must be the Box outfit," called Mr. Simms. " They follow us. This is the eighteenth, and they're due on the twenty-first," AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 37 xA.ll the day the baaings of the two outfits were exchanged. The draw ended, and toward sunset the Circle K, climbing out of it where it closed, emerged upon a broad, level sage plain, spanned by a road — the first road encountered since Phil had joined. Before, a mile, clearly defined by the setting sun, showed a group of low buildings; while behind and to the right, heralded by their querulous voices, converging upon the Circle K, were traveling two other bands of sheep, their herders upon horseback riding at the rear. *' Might find out who those are, Chet," suggested Mr. Simms. " Come on," bade Chet, instantly. " Let's ride over," and he turned Medicine Eye. Phil, nothing loth to change from walk to gallop, spurred for his side. "Don't ride through the sheep, though," warned Mr. Simms, after them. " Go 'round." Both bands seemed larger than those of the Circle K. They made an engaging spectacle, as in close array, like a trained army they poured, baaing, through the sage, the long rays of the low sun slanting athwart their graying, shaggy backs. The herder on the near flank of the first band eyed the boys inquiringly, but not curiously, as they approached. He was riding easily, with one leg over the horn of his saddle. "Whose outfit?" demanded Chet, imperiously. "Box; Latham Brothers," responded the herder, lazily. "Where's the foreman?" 38 THE CIRCLE K " Over there/' and he nodded, expressing no interest. " Come on," said Chet. He and Phil proceeded. Of the two herders traihng the second band Phil immediately recognized the first. On two other occa- sions, well-remembered, had he been thrown with this lank, cool individual of the same battered derby hat, the small features, the bullet head on long neck, the coat tight in the sleeves, the overalls short in the leg; of the stubborn mind and the flicker of eyelid which betokened fight. For he was that plucky sheep- man almost raided by the roundup on the Bar B range, and also the sheepman of the disputed water- hole in the New Mexican drive. With characteristic cool self-possession he observed the two boys, gallop- ing up. He, too, was riding side-saddle fashion. " Howdy," he said, with a squirt of tobacco juice, over his leg. " How are you," they answered. The three now rode along. "From that other outfit, aren't you?" he asked, leisurely. " Yes," said Chet. " We just rode over to see who you were." ** Well, youVe seen. We're here. Who are you? " " Circle K." " Used to be in cattle, didn't you ? I remember you." " Yes. We remember you, too. I do ; don't you, Phil?" " Sure I do," asserted Phil, AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 39 "Quit cattle?" " Yes." " That's it. That's the way. Fust you try to run me out o' your country, or seize my water-hole, an' then you take over my very sheep. I like that," and again he spat. "Your sheep!" " Circle K. Same bunch you fellers were so hot after over in the Cathedral Park region." " That's right. I remember," exclaimed Phil. " They did have a K brand." " You bet they did," responded the sheepman. " I was with those sheep o' yourn five years. Then I tried New Mexico. Now I'm up here again. What's the matter with cattle, that you've gone into sheep ? " " They've put our range under a reservoir, and ranchers are coming in," explained Chet. " Humph ! " The bullet-headed sheepman savagely bit into his plug of tobacco. " Now I suppose you'll be fightin' for sheep instead of against them. When do you shear ? You're the outfit just ahead o' mine, aren't you?" " Shear to-morrow, I guess." " Well, I'll see you-all at the pens. Tell your boss I hear they've dead-lined the Black Mesa range, but I'm goin' to lamb there just the same. You people goin' in, too ? " " I think so. We're going on some lambing range. We've got lambs coming already," said Chet, proudly. " Yes," drawled the sheepman. " They'll come an' they'll keep comin'. You won't have the only lambs in 40 THE CIRCLE K the country. Here's where we camp. I'll see your boss in the mornin'." He whistled and waved his arm, and with his herd- ers and the dogs started to round the sheep. '' It's funny how we meet him again," remarked Phil, as they rode back for their own camp. Chet nodded. '' Uh huh," he said. " But he shore has got nerve. They won't run him off any lambing range." " They won't run us off, either," retorted Phil, boastfully. " No, I should say not," grunted Chet. " If they think we're like common herders they're going to get fooled. Dad and Haney and the rest of them would as soon fight as eat." The Circle K sheep had been halted, and were graz- ing; for the Simms outfit also had gone into camp. The three tents were up ; smoke was issuing from the pipes of the stoves, and the boys almost could hear Haney mumuring his plaintive : " Grub pi-ile ! " All the plain was filled with baaing, as the sheep of the two drives wandered in their own sections, cropping and gabbling. " There's dad, over at the pens," quoth Chet, swerv- ing Medicine Eye, who much wanted to enter camp and be unsaddled, as had some of the other horses. But he and Pepper, Phil's horse, were obliged to continue past the camp, and on to the group of long, low buildings a half mile ahead. These consisted, on nearer inspection, of a bunk- house, evidently (by the men lounging before the door AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 41 in its end), and a dining-hall (by the smoke from the chimney, and the smell of meat, and the cook in dirty white apron standing looking curiously out) ; and of a structure which was but a shed containing two lines of pens separated by an aisle and facing upon outside aisles, or shutes, which in turn skirted pole corrals, adjoining. All this collection stood out here, in the setting sun, beside the road, on the open, sagy plain, as if it had up-sprung like a miraculous mushroom growth. Mr. Simms, off his horse, was talking with a broad, thick, heavy, large-all-over Western sort of a man, in overalls and wide-brimmed, creased drab hat. " The gang's here," was saying the man, in a boom- ing voice matching his size. "Yes, sir; the gang's here. Bring on your sheep first thing in the morning. How's the wool ? Dirty ? " " Not extra. They had a good bit of snow on the range and the sand didn't blow much.'* "Many lambs?" " Not many, yet." " We'll shear the ewes first, so they can be put out to grazing." " Twenty pens," mused Mr. Simms. " About two thousand sheep a day, that means." " With my gang ; yes, sir. They're Mormon boys, every one. Of course, at the very first they won't average their hundred sheep. It may take three days to get through your five thousand. But we got good pens ; even part of the corral is roofed over, so in case of rain or ^nov^ there'll be dry sheep. I tell you, this 42 .THE CIRCLE K shearing in the open, with only an old gunny sack for shade, is all right in some countries, but not here. What's that other outfit, over yonder? Not more of yours ? " " The Box, I reckon," said Mr. Simns. " Ask the boys, here. They rode across to see." " It's the Box," confirmed Chet. " And the boss is that same sheepman we've been running into every year, dad. He stood us off at the water-hole last year." " Oh ho," remarked Mr. Simms. " Good man." " Sure he's a good man," loudly asserted the shear- ing-pens owner. " I know him. Lanky fellow, with long neck and derby hat? I know him. He was in New Mexico last year but this year he's working for Latham Brothers. Nobody bluffs him. You going on the Black Mesa, too? " " That's where we lamb," said Mr. Simms. " The Box people are going there, dad," informed Chet. " And that foreman says we'll have trouble, because the Black Mesa's been dead-lined. Didn't he, Phil?" Phil nodded, gravely. The matter was important. *' I heard they were going to dead-line it, this year," boomed the shearing-pens owner. " But they can't. That ain't cattle range. It used to be, but it ain't any more. Hasn't been for five years. Some cattle there, but mostly sheep. The Saddle X is making this trou- ble. They want to put their cattle over on the mesa, because they've been crowded off their old range." ** We were crowded, too," quoth Mr. Simms. AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 43 " But we didn't try to take sheep country for cattle." His face stiffened slightly, and he smiled grimly. *' That's where we lamb — on the Black Mesa. I reckon there won't be trouble. I know one thing, we won't trouble other folks before they trouble us. All right. I'll have the first bunch of sheep here by the time your gang's ready. Come on, boys. Supper's waiting." CHAPTER IV THE SHEARING OF THE SHEEP The camp was astir by dawn — which was nothing unusual, having been the custom at least since Phil's arrival; but there was a new tinge of bustle in the at- mosphere, as if the day was to be an especially busy one. " We'll drive that other band in first," directed Mr. Simms. " If those shearers are any good they can about clean it up to-day. It has more ewes in than ours. Won't need horses, boys. Do it afoot." " Bawss, he'd oughter say * yorn in than ourn,' " criticized Haney. " Said * ewes in than ours.' " By dint of shouting and running Hombre and Luis already were driving their band onward across the low, trampled sage, toward the pens. On foot, the others, save Gus and Kitty, left behind to herd the second band, and Jess and Mr. Simms, who rode for the pens, hastened to help. " Not too fast, not too fast," shouted Mr. Simms, from where he and Old Jess had stationed themselves, having tethered their horses to the fence, either side of the corral gateway. " Point them in here and get them started before you crowd 'em." " Si. Bueno," called Hombre to Luis, gaily, ap- 44 THE SHEARING OF THE SHEEP 45 proving. And Luis answered something in Mexican, as one who understood his business. The sheep were compressed more and more solidly as they shambled forward protestingly baaing. Be- hind, Ford and Hombre pressed and shouted; on the right flank Chet and Luis, on the left flank Phil and Haney, flourished their arms and shouted. The sheep- pens owner and another man came running, with gunny-sacks, and stationing themselves on either flank, they also waved and shouted. The dust hung in a cloud, Haney was redder than ever, the smell of sheep wafted from the shuttling bodies floated sluggishly in the still morning air. At the gate the blatting van hesitated for a moment ; but in obediently trotted the knowing leaders, and all hastened to follow. The gate was closed. " Now what else foh the pore sheep-herder," panted Haney, dusty, perspiring and very red, wiping his face with a handkerchief only slightly redder. " That's hahd wuhk, Smith- Jones. Don't laike usin' my feet, me. 'Drather brand calves." And in truth this tramping and racing afoot was tough on anybody of the Texan's stamp, who had been accustomed to doing things mainly from a horse. " Whew! " quoth Chet. " That's what I say." But along a side of the corral extended a shute or narrow passage; one end corner of the shute opened into the corral with a gate, the other end connected at right angles with the shute skirting the first row of shearing pens. It was continued on also, so that 46 THE CIRCLE K sheep could be driven through and into the second row of pens. Now Mr. Admun (who was the shearing-pens owner) alertly opened the gate from the corral into the shute; and Mr. Simms, who was as spry as anybody, vaulted the corral fence. Luis, Hombre, Ford, fol- lowed; and the gunny-sack man who had come with Mr. Admun. " Come on," said Chet ; and he and Phil imitated the others. " Don't need any more," called Mr. Simms. " I'm 'fraid o' sheep, when that red shirt's chasin' 'em," averred Haney. *' Don't ketch me inside any fence with mad sheep — um um. Jess eithuh. We're too old an' stiff, punchin' caows." Between the fence poles he and Old Jess looked on. To corner the sheep, and drive enough into the shute to fill it was at first not difficult. The boys. Ford, Luis and Hombre forced them in. " Not fast. Not mek dem excited," warned Hom- bre. He had the gunnysack ; for Mr. Simms and Mr. Admun were leaning over the shute, poking the sheep with sticks to move them up. '' All full," spoke Mr. Admun. " Close the gate, somebody. Open at the other end, Bob." Phil and Chet rushed across the corral, to see; for the shearing was about to commence. Along the cen- ter aisle of the shearing shed the shearers were loaf- ing; laughing and joking, or leaning negligently against the boards of the pens, looking and waiting for the sheep. THE SHEARING OF THE SHEEP 47^ They were a steady, rather sober-appearing set, old and young, in overalls or ordinary clothes, and seemed farmers or mechanics rather than sheep-shearers. Only one of them, with shaggy black whiskers and eyebrows, long hair, slouched black hat, black, burning eyes and a generally brigandish, rakish air, as he leaned with folded arms upon the edge of his pen and meditatively smoked a short black pipe, struck Phil as meeting the requirements of the typical sheep-shearer of the West. The man Bob had opened a gate in the end of the pens shute, connecting with the corner of the corral shute; this required considerable exclamation and shoving, as the sheep were pressed close against it. Then, urged by voices and poles, behind, they came trotting, pausing, jostling and trotting again, down outside the row of pens, until they had filled the shute full. From each of the pens a gate opened outward, and swung clear across the shute; and now opening the gates, beginning at one end, Bob and Mr. Simms and Mr. Admun turned and pushed and urged and fairly shoved into every pen a number of sheep. The same was done for the opposite row of pens. Stupid, erratic animals were these sheep; their sharp hoofs clattered noisily as they balked and dodged and resisted. " The old ones, dey know, all right," commented Hombre, behind the boys : " Young ones, dey scared. Never been sheared before. Down my country, New Mexico, some places shear twice a year. Shear twice a year, in Californy, too; hey, Luis, amigo?" 48 THE CIRCLE K Luis, with rather a somber gaze despite his crimson shirt, surveying the pens and the shearers, nodded. " If so the weather is always warm," he said, slowly. '' Here shear only in spring. If shear in fall, den sheeps don't have clothes 'nough for winter," ex- plained Hombre. But this shearing at the Admun pens held the floor. For in the rows of stalls the sheep — eight or ten in each compartment — were waiting, glancing about ap- prehensively with yellow, snaky eyes and stamping with hard feet. "Let her go," shouted a voice; and the shearers vaulted into their pens. There was a simultaneous movement and bustle, and a sudden snip, snip, snip. The man in pen No. I was a short, chunky bright- eyed litle man, in mechanic's overalls and a visor cap branded " Gold Belt flour." The pen was not only labeled " I," but it was scarred with many initials and fancy insignia. The boys watched No. I curiously. From among the animals all pressing together in the farther end of the pen he grabbed a sheep by the hind leg, and masterfully drawing it (resisting not a bit, as if it might be paralyzed by the touch) toward him, dexterously flopped it upon its side. He whirled it over, and propping it upon its broad haunches, set it up with its back against his knees. It did not a thing but look imploringly into his face. " Now he open it up," quoth Hombre, eagerly. With his shears, which were shaped like the shears with which people trim lawn-grass, snip, snip, snip THE SHEARING OF THE SHEEP 49 he ploughed a furrow straight down its brisket. The skin showed pinky white. Working from either edge of the furrow he cHpped breast and side and belly and back, turning the sheep upon the pivot of its haunches, as he progressed; he trimmed the ears and the flanks. The shorn wool rolled down in a billowy mass, until the man was standing ankle deep in it. Ruthlessly he jerked and turned and snipped, and now and then he brought blood, as he cut into a wrinkle or a scar or a wart. After all, it was only hair-clipping on a large scale. Only, nobody would have supposed that there was so much of the hair. Very odd ap- peared the sheep, scrawny, and singularly white, like a boy with his clothing off about to take the first swim of the season. With a shove the shearer released it. Straightening not, the man reached and plucked from a loose-knotted hank of coarse yarn or twine, hanging against the boards of his pen, a strand; and stooping more, gathered with swift motion the wool about his feet. With three more motions he had tied the twine about it. He tossed the bundle into the aisle back of him — and grabbed another sheep. " I'm going to time him," said Chet. Luis the Californian grunted. " That hees fleece, what he tossed over. You see that piece hide, over back of hees hand, to hold shears tight? " instructed Hombre. " That hees buck." Snip, snip, went the shears again. Snip, snip, were going all the shears ; and every pen had a fleece lying outside of it. There was rumble of wheels — and along the pens was being rolled a boarded-up car, like 50 THE CIRCLE K a small coal-wagon, into which a slender boy was gathering the fleeces. The air was becoming dusty, mingled with particles of wool and up-raise from shuf- fle of feet. The beams of the sun struck through golden, shining as far as they could under the roof. Number One had finished another sheep. " Not quite four minutes," announced Chet. Luis the Calif ornian grunted again. "What's that?" queried Number One. He had tied his fleece and was pausing to hone his shears with a little stone. " Not quite four minutes," informed Chet. " I timed you." " That's pretty good, isn't it? " asked Phil. " No," murmured Luis. " Not good. Slow." " Good enough for a beginning," retorted the 'man. " A fellow's stiff at first. These are my first sheep this season. About eighty's the average, to-day and to-morrow. But I'll be turning out my io8 regular, when I get {started. A sheep in a little over three minutes is my gait." ** Luis, he shear, too," quoth Hombre, proudly. " Who's Luis ? " demanded the man. He grabbed another sheep. " Dis Luis." " Where'd you shear, friend? " asked the man. " Cal'fornia." " Humph. Well, they shear some sheep there, sure." The shears were snipping as the man talked. The wool rolled white — dingy on the outside but pure snow on the inside. The contrast was remarkable. THE SHEARING OF THE SHEEP 51 The sheep, helpless and obedient, kept its servile eyes lifted to the man's down-bent face. " Used to have California shearers out in this country. Now we're all Mormons." *' Luis, he champion. Very fast shearer. Shear over two hundred, ten hours." " Tying his own fleeces? " *' Yes," said Luis, shortly, nodding. He walked away. " We got a champion, too," answered the man. " See that fellow in Number Ten ? With the whis- kers ? He's good for two hundred and more than two hundred. Maybe we can get up a match." " Mebbe," said Hombre. " I ask Luis. I bet on heem." " Go on and ask him, Hombre," urged Chet, ex- cited. " Get his record." " Sure," encouraged Phil. Hombre hastened after the Californian. " Look at the big sack," prompted Phil to Chet. For in the doorway of the shearing shed was sus- pended, from a square frame of two-by-fours, a great sack of brown jute, seven feet long and as big around as a hogshead. The wool-cart boy was tossing up the fleeces, to a man who was filling the sack. Already it was more than half-full, and the man was inside, tramping the fleeces as solid as he could. His arms reached out, to catch the fleeces as they came. A stout plank, like a lever, inserted underneath the bulging bottom, helped to hold up the sack. In a few minutes it was jammed to the top; the man climbed 52 THE CIRCLE K out upon the scaffolding, and with a large sailor*s needle sewed the mouth of the sack tight. Then at a shout it was lowered, carefully (for it must have been very heavy) ; it toppled, and fell — plunk — outside the shed. A couple of men seized it, and rolled it to a set of scales, and weighed it. Meantime another sack had been hung, mouth stretched open, from the scaffolding, and fleeces were being dropped into it. Beside the doorway sat a man getting the sacks ready. He tied a handful of wool into each bottom corner, like an ear, for a hand-grasp, and wet the mouths, so that they would set better. The filled sack had been weighed, and was being rolled away. Upon the hard rotund bottom was marked, in black paint : 330® "That's ours. It's Number i, and it weighs three hundred and thirty pounds," quoth Chet, proudly. " It's got the Circle K brand on it, too," supple- mented Phil. " How many will there be, you think ? " " I don't know. I'll ask dad. He's weighing some fleeces." Mr. Simms and the shearing-pen's owner were laying four or five fleeces, one after the other, upon the scales, and noting the weights. " Average about seven pounds," said Mr. Admun. " That's fairly clean wool." ■* About forty-four or fort^-five fleeces to a sack, TOSSING UP THE FLEECES TO A MAN WHO WAS FILLING THE SACK." THE SHEARING OF THE SHEEP 53 then/' mused Mr. Simms. And without being asked he answered Phil's question. " We'll have a hundred and twenty sacks." " Just about.'* "Oh, jiminy!" exclaimed Chet. "A hundred big sacks of wool, and we've still got the sheep.'* Mr. Admun laughed with a loud guffaw. " Sure," he said. " And you've still got the sheep, for more wool and mutton." " We've got a champion shearer, too," proclaimed Chet. " Who is he ? " asked his father. " Luis, the Californian." " You have, have you ? " queried Mr. Admun. " He'll have to go some, to beat our man. That whiskered fellow in Number Ten is some shearer. I never knew anybody to beat him." " Hombre wants to get up a match," spoke Phil. ** All right. Fetch on your champion. Fact is, all our men are first-class." They strolled to the end of the shed, and looked in upon the busy shearers. " They're Mormons. We used to have Californian shearers. They did nothing but shear, the year through, starting out from the coast, and making cir- cuit through Utah and Colorado, and Wyoming, and Montana and Idaho, and back to the coast again. Regular gypsies. Good shearers, too, only wild. But they went on a strike on us, several years ago. Everyone quit, where I was, up in Wyoming." He laughed again. " Say, but we had a time. I sent down to Denver to an employment agency, at last. 54 THE CIRCLE K Had to get my sheep sheared. I'd contracted for fifty thousand. Fellow down in Denver shipped us thirteen men, and we set 'em to work. By thunder, the thirteen of 'em sheared thirty-nine sheep in ten hours! One man he sheared all the morning at one sheep; regularly butchered it, and then had to leave it waiting while he Avent to dinner ! I found out that none of the men ever had sheared a sheep before, and some of 'em never had seen a sheep. Lots of sheep didn't get sheared at all, that spring. But since then most of us have been using Mormons. They're good shearers, and they're steady. Why, over some of the bunk-houses they have gospel verses. And it's all right, too. Most of 'em have other trades, that they work at the rest of the year. That man in Number One is a paper-hanger. I pay 'em eight cents a sheep, and they make their eight dollars a day. Costs 'em about seventy-five cents a day to board. I've had this very same gang three years, now. Engage 'em through their foreman. Most of 'em are from Bing- ham, Utah, and thereabouts. They'll shear over sixty thousand sheep, at these pens, this spring." " How much do we have to pay, dad? " asked Chet, boldly. " You pay thirteen cents a sheep, and I furnish the sacks and string and shearers and pens and all," an- swered Mr. Admun, quickly. ** Oh, jiminy!" murmured Chet, appalled. And that did seem quite an expense, when the five thou- sand sheep were considered. " .Well, I reckon after your father's sold the wool THE SHEARING OF THE SHEEP 55 — as he will, to that man coming yonder— he'll have enough money to buy you a suit of clothes and him- self a new hat," remarked Mr. Admun, shortly. Not only one man, but two were approaching, down the road, in a buggy. And across the sage was coming on, at a trot, a rider. " That's that Box foreman, behind, I reckon," re- marked Mr. Simms. " I recognized his hat." CHAPTER V BIG BEN THE MORMON At that moment a shout sounded from several of the pens; all their sheep had been shorn. The man Bob vaulted into the chute and began opening the pen gates, and out were driven the sheep. Without their wool, thin rabbity creatures they now were; headed aright they cantered, as if gladly, down the shute, opposite to the direction by which they had entered; and turning a corner were in a narrow con- tinuation between two corrals, with space for only one sheep to pass at a time. Old Jess was leaning over the rail, at the narrow channel, with what appeared not unlike a stone- cutter's mallet in his hand, and a tin bucket slung from a post beside him. Haney, the red-headed Texan, stood near. " Come to the branding Smith-Jones," he called, seeing Phil watching. " Goin* to wrestle sheep foh us? Don't let 'em bite you." But if this was a branding, it was a tame one. As Phil and Chet drew curiously near, while Haney poked the sheep on down the chute, Old Jess pressed his mallet upon the rump of each; it left a large black (^ plainly stamped with paint upon the short, white, fuzzy-wooled hide. Between times he dipped '56 BIG BEN THE MORMON '57 the instrument into the paint-pot — for that was what the tin bucket proved to be, as the mallet proved to be only a wooden stamp. " 'Drather brand calves any day," grumbled grizzled Old Jess, half ashamed. " I never was brought up to be a sheep painter." Fast came trotting the sheep, released from the shearers. They faltered under the stamp, then scam- pered on, until by squads they w^ere released into the shorn-sheep corral, and the branding chute received others. In the corral they wandered, white, gaunt and shivery — their necks long and their legs slen- der. The opposite chute leading into the pens, was emptied, and the pens were again filled. Snip, snip, snip, went the shears, clipping fleeces for the Circle K outfit. In the main corral Hombre and Luis and Ford, with gunnysacks, were chasing more of the sheep into the leading shute, to have them ready for the next call from the shearers. The two men in the buggy had arrived. They were well dressed — city dressed. They even had their trousers creased, observed Phil, as they clam- bered out and tethered their horse to a rail of the corral. " I know," said Chet. " They're going to buy dad's wool. They're both from Boston. Dad saw them in Marino last week. They've been up in Wyoming, too, buying wool." Mv. Simms shook hands with them. They took a scrutiny of the sheep, shorn and unshorn, then they 58 THE CIRCLE K strolled to the pens, and one of the men ran his fingers through the wool on a sheep's back. They picked up a fleece or so, in nonchalant fashion, and plucked several fingerfuls of wool from each, squeezing it and rubbing it. " You go over there and you'll learn how to buy wool," spoke a voice behind the boys, as they stood, watching. It was the foreman of the Box. " Them's two of the best buyers in the country. They know more wool than the sheep who raises it." " I'm with you," said Ford, leaping over the corral fence. " I'd like to know wool, myself." They all four went. " A fair crop," was saying one of the men. " Why, hello, Dexter," he exclaimed, seeing Ford. "Didn't know you were around here." Ford grinned, and unembarrassed by his overalls and dust shook the man's hand. " Here I am. How's Boston ? How are the folks?" " Fine and dandy. But I thought you were punch- ing cows." " No. Prodding sheep. Same outfit, but different style of animals. When did you leave home ? " " Last month. Been up in Wyoming." " Well, go ahead with your dickering. We want to see how you do it." " Want to see how I get done, you mean," laughed the man — a rosy-cheeked, fresh-looking individual, as if, despite his presence here on the sagy desert, he had iust rolled out of a bath-tub, "We won't have BIG BEN THE MORMON 59 any trouble buying this wool, though, I guess. It's up to average." " How do you tell wool, anyway, Jim? " demanded Ford. " Partly by instinct — partly by just knowing how. We judge by the staple^that's the length of the fibre ; and by quality of fibre, whether coarse or fine, soft or brittle, and by the amount of dirt. When sheep are fat, their wool is greasy, and collects dirt; and when they've had a windy winter, with little snow, it gathers sand. Now, these sheep, I should say, had been through a winter with lots of snow and rather cold ; so the wool is long, and not extra dirty. Sheep aren't over fat, you notice, which also tells the tale. Dirt and grease make a lot of difference, when we pay by the pound, as we do. We have to allow for shrinkage in the factory scouring. My house is rather particular about not paying for sand. We've got sand enough in Boston." " It sure takes a long head," observed Ford, musingly. " Comes to be instinct, after you've been at the business for a while. If I buy this wool, I pull a few handfuls out of the sacks and ship them home for samples. I pay part of the money down, here, and the rest usually when the wool is shipped from the warehouse. See? Well, I'm mighty glad to have run across you. Dexter. Aren't going back East with me ? " Ford laughed under his crisp moustache and shook his head. 6o IHE CIRCLE K " Not at present," he said. " This country suits me. I'll have you buying my wool, after a bit. But tell the folks you saw me, will you ? " " Of course I will. I'll be there next month." The buyer turned away, and resumed his strolling and conversation with Mr. Simms and the other man. " His father is head of one of the biggest wool houses in the East," explained Ford. "I was at Harvard with this chap. He knows my father and mother." ** How about that match? Arranged it yet?" queried the shearer in Number One pen, against which they were leaning. He was streaked with per- spiration, but scarcely paused in his clipping to glance up. '* I don't know," answered Chet, reminded. " Come on," he added, with sudden interest. " Let's talk with their champion and see what he says." He jumped in and started through the shute for Number Ten pen, where the whiskered man was hard at work. " Champion what ? " asked Ford, following with Phil. " Champion shearer. We've got one too — Luis." " Bueno," quoth Ford. " Never saw either of them shear, and don't know a thing about it, but I'll back Luis, for the honor of the Circle K." The shaggy, brigandish man did not look up; and the three watched him for a minute in silence. " We hear you can shear some," finally remarked Ford. BIG BEN THE MORMON 6i "Yes; some," grunted the man. "Been at it twenty years." " The boys say we've got a shearer, who's pretty good." "That Cahfornia Indian?" " Yes." The man released his shorn sheep, and briefly honed his blades. " I've seen him. Saw him in Utah last year." " We thought we'd get up a match between you," volunteered Phil. " I reckon it might be done," said the man, shortly. He grabbed another sheep, and set to work. "All right. We'll bring him 'round," proffered Ford. " Dinner time, or to-night. I'm busy now." The shaggy man evidently was of the reticent, unsociable type; and after a moment more they left him alone, as he desired to be. " Then it's a go, is it ? " called back Chet, eagerly. He grunted, but the grunt was taken for a yes. As they passed along out, the shearer in Number One glanced up at them inquiringly. " He's agreeable," informed Ford — not meaning Number Ten's disposition in general, as occurred to Phil, but his attitude toward the contest. Number One wiped his face with a red handker- chief. " Sure he is. He could shear a cast-iron sheep. Big Ben could, and make a quick job of it. Fetch on your man," 62 THE CIRCLE K But there was no space now for further negotia- tions. The shearers were again on their last sheep; the pens were about to be emptied, and fresh material supplied. In the corral the sheep had been thinned out; all hands must bend to the task of refilling the shute, for the unshorn sheep sped hither and thither, and dodged and swerved, as fatuous and obstinate as pigs, as contrary as a cat shown to an open door. Phil and Chet shouted themselves hoarse the while they waved their arms in lieu of sacks, and ran and perspired and swallowed dust. " Go to it. Smith- Jones,'* encouraged Haney, as he helped Old Jess brand. " Lots o' fun chasin' sheep." " They say bring on our man, Hombre," panted Chet, amidst the running. " For a match." Hombre flashed his white teeth. " Bueno. Luis say he do it, for money." But Ford and Luis had left, to trail in more sheep, for replenishing the corral. Now the sun had mounted high, until his golden beams no longer slanted in under the shed roof, athwart sheep and shearers, decorating the air with bars of dancing motes. Again and again had the wranglers filled the shute, and the shearers emptied their pens. The mass of unshorn sheep in the en- trance corral diminished, and the mass of whiter, gaunter shorn sheep in the exit corral increased. Snip, snip, snip, hastened the busy shears. The shearers said little; they paused but to toss over a tied fleece, or to hone a blade, dulled by the sand in the wool, or momentarily to straighten a tired back. BIG BEN THE MORMON 63 The wool car rolled down the aisle and back again laden. Steadily the sacks were packed, and tramped, and at a shout toppled and were rolled away. Now there was a big tier of them; the last number was eighteen. The atmosphere in the shed was pungent with the odor of sheep and of perspiration. Most of the shearers had stripped to their undershirts. The shed floor was a litter of wool. Wool was every- where, as dust in the air and as shreds hanging from projecting splinters. Occasionally sounded a sharp scolding exclamation as some sheep waxed unruly. The wool buyers had driven away. " Well, I've sold my wool," informed Mr. Simms, as he joined the two boys, again looking in upon the shearing. The snip of the shears was fascinat- ing. At this instant Number One, having finished the sheep upon which he was working, straightened, hung his shears on a nail in the pen, and donning his coat clambered out. There were whoopees, here and there among the pens, and other shearers were climbing out. " Dinner," quoth Mr. Simms. " Listen to the bell."' " Better eat with us," invited Mr. Admun. " The boys and I will. I guess the rest of the outfit will take their chuck in camp," answered Mr. Simms. The shearers were streaming toward the boarding- hall, and crowded to wash where a couple of wash- basins were sitting on a bench by a force pump. A few of the men lingered in their pens, finishing their 64 THE CIRCLE K sheep; but the majority had timed themselves to the minute. Down the center of the dining-hall extended a long deal table which could accommodate fifty, easily. Before each chair was a porcelain plate, cup, knife and fork, and at intervals were platters of steaming steak, boiled potatoes, stewed tomatoes, stewed corn, sliced bread, dishes of gravy. Along the table moved the cook's assistant, pot in hand, filling the cups. " Coffee or tea? " he asked. " Water for me," said the shearer on Phil's left. He was Number Ten — the shaggy, silent, almost gloomy and decidedly bandit-appearing champion. Phil counted it a stroke of good fortune to get him for a neighbor; and on the other side of Chet, at Phil's right, was the affable Number One. " I've tasted naught stronger than water for twenty years," volunteered the shaggy man. " I drink not of alcohol nor eat nor smoke of tobacco, nor take the name of the Lord in vain. Yet once I was as wild as any of ye." He munched slowly with his great hairy chops, while Phil cogitated over the announcement. " You must have been shearing a great many years," Phil ventured. " More years than you are years old, lad," an- swered the hairy man. " I'm a California shearer." He spoke as if proudly — ^but checked himself. " Yea, I started in for the glory of self and the money I could make; but I shear now for the glory of God, BIG BEN THE MORMON 65 to promote the purposes for which he placed the woolly creatures upon earth." If the man was not mocking, then this was good to say from the heart; if he was mocking, then he blasphemed by trifling with sacred matters. But he spoke seriously. " I see," said Phil, deciding to humor him. " How many can you shear in a day, anyway ? " The man glanced at him momentarily from under big brows. " Some days more, some days less, depending upon the will of the Lord, whether he sends me easy wool and nerves my hand aright. I have sheared my over two hundred, when I was young, and tied my own fleeces. But there was never a man or boy in that gang who couldn't shear his two hundred the day, and drink and dance the night. Shearing then was our trade, lad; to-day it is but an incident, and we take no pride in it. As for me, I have sheared with the same gang through six states and territories in a season, saving never a cent but spending my wages and my immortal soul on the blackest evils of life. Now I give praise that I have turned from those ways and lead a sober and honest life as a follower of Joseph Smith." He munched and drank of his water. " You're a Mormon ? " inquired Phil. " I am. We're all Mormons in this shearing com- pany." '' I haven't seen our man, yet ; but I think he'll shear you for a match. What do you want to bet? " 66 THE CIRCLE K '' I tempt not the Lord by making wagers," replied the whiskered man, yet without reproof. "But for the extra effort there should be an extra wage. I shear no match for the mere vainglory of vanquish- ing another." " We'll all chip in then and make up a purse ; won't we, Phil," proffered Chet. " How much would you want? " he queried of Big Ben. " If the laborer is worthy of his hire, the extra wage should be fifty dollars," answered Big Ben. When the boys had finished, so had Number One; and as they stolled out, content with inward sensa- tion, he joined them. " Well," he asked; " is Big Ben going to shear for you?" " He said he would if we got up a purse of fifty dollars; but he won't bet," answered Phil. " No, we Mormons are not much in favor of bet- ting," responded Number One, soberly. "And you couldn't get old Ben to bet. Did he tell you about his wild days ? " "Just mentioned them." " He was a bad one. He's killed more than one man, they say. But those times he doesn't like to talk of. Now there's not a steadier or more God-fearing man in Utah. He can crumple a horseshoe in the palm of his hand — ^yes, he can bend a railroad spike; I've seen him. It was woe to the man who stood in his path when he was angered. But to-day he is as you see him. He bends his own will, not horseshoe or spike." Number One lighted his pipe; BIG BEN THE MORMON 67 and continued more briskly. *' But bring on your man. You'll have to match up to-morrow, won't you? Your sheep will be cleaned by the next noon.'* " Yes, to-morrow's all right," answered Chet.- ** How many have you sheared, already?" asked Phil. Number One was more affable than Number Ten. " We'll go and see," quoth Number One. They walked through the shearing shed, and Num- ber One vaulted into his pen. He counted the strings in his bunch. " Thirty-seven," he sighed. " But by six o'clock I'll have my eighty odd, which is enough for the first day. At about the third day I'll have worked up to one hundred, and by the second week, I'll be shear- ing my hundred and five and hundred and ten." "So that's how you keep track, is it?" exclaimed Phil. " By the strings." " By the strings I have left, and by tally, too. See — on this board here I tally the penfuls that I empty. Then, Mr. Admun keeps count, too. He checks up on us." The shearers loafed about, taking their nooning. Big Ben and another man ground their shears on a grindstone. Nobody began work, until at the stroke of one (which was no stroke at all, but was indicated by the foreman snapping his watch and climbing into his own pen) the snip, snip was resumed. And the shearing went on. Jhe foreman of the Box had dined in the dining- 6S THE CIRCLE K hall, and he and Mr. Simms and Mr. Admun were talk- ing, earnestly. '* I hate to believe it," said Mr. Admun, in his booming voice. " That Black Mesa's been sheep range as much as cow range. Nobody don't own it. I reckon you fellows can hold your own." "This man can; I've seen him," asserted Mr. Simms, grimly, but with a half smile also, referring to the lank, bullet-headed sheepman. " And I've done it, in time gone by." " Nobody runs over me if I can help it," stated the sheepman, calmly, but with his characteristic flicker of the eyelids. " They can post the Black Mesa if they want to an' as much as they want to. That's where I lambed last year an' where I lamb this year an' mebbe next. They can't run a dead-line through neutral ground, like that." " I don't reckon it's in earnest," said Mr. Admun. " Some of them cow-punchers are trying to act smart, is all, and scare you." *' I don't scare," answered the sheepman. " I never have — not easy," declared Mr. Simms. "Are we going there, then, dad?" queried Chet, eagerly. "Where?" " On the Black Mesa, to lamb? " " I shouldn't wonder." "Aw, Phil; think of fighting for sheep. Maybe that's what we'll have to do ! " scoffed Chet, his cow- puncher blood rebelling. " Makes some difference whose sheep they are — BIG BEN THE MORMON 69 yourn or the other fellow's, sonny," boomed Mr. Admun. " Have you arranged that shearing-match? " " The other man will do it, if Luis will," an- swered Chet, dubiously. " But we have to get up a purse." "How much?" " Fifty dollars. Big Ben says. He won't do it for less." " Won't, eh ? What do you say, Simms ? " " I reckon we can raise our share," responded Mr. Simms, casually, but promptly. CHAPTER VI THE GREAT SHEARING MATCH The details were planned that evening, and in the morning the arrangements were this wise : Big Ben had pens Nine and Ten; Luis, the Califor- nian Indian, had pens Nineteen and Twenty, op- posite. Thus one pen of each pair could always be kept supplied with sheep material, and each man need but to vault from his emptied pen over into his filled one, and keep shearing. Who would wrangle and attend to filling the pens ? " I wrangle for Luis. Bueno. I an' Meester Chet an' Meester Phil," volunteered Hombre. "That's plenty," checked Mr. Simms, grimly. " We need somebody to attend the regular shearing." The Box foreman and Bob the pens wrangler were appointed for Big Ben ; they were willing. Mr. Admun and Mr. Simms would keep tally, Mr. Admun on Luis and Mr. Simms on Big Ben. " Now, boys, here are two hundred strings apiece. Better count 'em," instructed Mr. Admun. "And here's another bunch of a hundred. You finish up the two hundred, and then you can begin on the hun- dred. That'll simplify matters, and show you where you're at." 70 THE GREAT SHEARING MATCH 71 Both men nodded, and solemnly counted their bunches of strings. " Are you all ready ? '* " Ready," said Luis. He placed a toe between the boards of his pen Number Nineteen, and his hands upon the top, ready to vault in. " Ready here," quoth Big Ben, nonchalantly. He sauntered to his pen Number Ten, and stood beside it, meditatively looking in upon the sheep. " Let her go, then! " boomed Mr. Admun. The word had not been spoken when Luis, fairly boosted by the excitable Hombre, with the spring of a panther was lithely over, and seizing a sheep had set to work. ** Bueno, bueno ! " uttered Hombre, dancing about. Big Ben almost leisurely clambered into his pen, and with the snip of his shears was a full half minute behind the Californian. But as he snipped he struck up a hymn, in a thunderous voice : " Awake, my soul ! Lift up thine eyes ; See where thy foes against thee rise, In long array, a num'rous host ; Awake, my soul ! Or thou art lost." Snip, snip, snip, were going the shears, all down the pens, for sheep must be sheared to-day as any day, and with sixty thousand ahead there was work enough for all. Besides, the contest was young yet. After watching Luis for a short time, the two boys, Chet and Phil, passed across to watch Big Ben. The rivals worked in different manner; even Phil could •^2 THE CIRCLE K see that. Luis was lightning in his movements, clip- ping swiftly, turning his sheep with a jerk and some- times missing a stroke in his haste to strike into the wool before the animal was secure. But Ben sheared steadily, ploughing broad furrows with the spread of his blades and the grip of his tremendously strong thumb and fingers. He did not give the impression of speed that the nimble Luis did; but about him was a constant, sure, regular sequence which inspired con- fidence. A triumphant whoop came from Hombre. Luis had finished his first penful of ten sheep, and was springing over into the adjoining pen, while Big Ben was still upon his last animal. Luis was already a sheep ahead, then ! Hurrah ! Quickly the sheared penful was released, and ten more sheep were driven in; and now could be heard the clatter from the opposite chute as Big Ben also had finished his first pen. He thundered lustily, as he worked: " But Thou canst bid the desert bud With more than Sharon's rich display; But Thou canst bid the cooHng flood Gush from the rock and cheer the way. " We tread the path Thy people trod, Alternate sunshine, bitter tears ; Go Thou before, and with Thy rod Divide the Jordan of our fears." " We're beating," exclaimed Chet. " Go it, Luis." "Yes; Luis he go. He champion in Californy. Beat everybody; beat dees man, too," agreed Hombre, eyes and teeth sparkling. THE GREAT SHEARING MATCH 73 Time passed. Through the handkerchief bound about the Californian's brow the perspiration had soaked, and his crimson shirt was blotched from his wet body. But he still was lightning, nervously forcing the quick shears, throwing aside one sheep and grabbing another, tieing his fleeces with a jerk and scarcely lifting his head to toss them outside. Big Ben had thrown aside his broad-brimmed hat; it had drifted, unnoted, into a corner. Upon his fore- head also the perspiration had gathered, and occa- sionally a drop trickled down and fell from the hairs of his great whiskers. But his motions were appa- rently unhurried; he moved methodically but steadily, and anybody very observant would have appreciated that although his motions were so unhurried, not one was wasted. His shears cut their broad, powerful furrows; every snip was a shear, whereas some of Luis' nervous snips cut only half the length of the blades. At eleven o'clock it seemed as though Big Ben might be a sheep or two behind. In the haste and the ex- citement both Chet and Phil had missed count. " How is it now ? " asked Number One, hurrying from his pen to watch a moment. The shearers along the shed were doing this ; now and then knocking off, and spending a few seconds watching and getting the news. " Big Ben's two sheep behind, I think," replied Phil. Number One nodded gravely. *' That doesn't worry him none, or us either," he 74 THE CIRCLE K said. " The day's young yet. It's not noon that tells the tale; it's night. How you making it, Ben?" he queried, casually, looking in upon the giant. " As the Lord wills> brother," answered Big Ben, not glancing up. " May He send you easy sheep and a strong hand, then," quoth Number One. ** That you may smite the Amalekite." Number One looked in upon Luis, the Californian, and shook his head. " He'll never last," he said, as he walked away to his own pen. " He's tired now, and he misses strokes. And I hear he isn't tieing his fleeces so they stick." But at noon Luis was still ahead by his two sheep, and appeared as nimble and as swift as ever. " Now, boys," warned Mr. Admun, precisely at twelve ; and the two shearers promptly quit, leaving the sheep in hand partially shorn. Luis sprang from his pen, and straightening with- out an apparent effort walked springily and proudly away. Hombre, by his side, looked back, and waved his arm and flashed his white teeth triumphantly. The other shearers, knocking off from their work and climbing out of their pens, gazed after soberly, or with murmured jest. In his pen Big Ben, after hanging up his shears, straightened only slowly, and with a grim.ace rubbed the small of his back; then donning his hat he also emerged from the enclosure, climbing forth, with no vain show of vaulting. His great beard was dank, THE GREAT SHEARING MATCH 75 his eyes were red-rimmed by the dust from the wool, and glowed with a sombre light. He worked his hairy hands, spreading thumb and fingers and con- tracting them again, as if testing for any flaw which might have developed. " How goes it, brother? " asked a Mormon. " One hundred and fourteen," said Big Ben, as he walked away for the wash basins and there was presently laving his eyes and face and soaking his hands, letting the water flow over his wrists. One hundred and fourteen! That was a day's shearing and more than a day's shearing, already. Somebody jumped into each pen and counted the strings. " Hundred and fourteen is correct. " Hundred and seventeen here," announced the man in Luis' pen. Hah! Then Luis was three sheep, and not only two, ahead. " That agrees with the tallies," admitted Mr. Admun, consulting an old envelope. " That Califor- nian sure is lightning — if he can keep up the pace." " Aye, if he can keep up the pace," responded the Mormon foreman. " And even then he'll not set any high mark. More sheep than two hundred and thirty- four have been shorn in a day of ten hours." " Yes, and Big Ben has done it," quoth another, quietly. " He'll have to do better than he's been doing, then," spoke Chet, boldly. 7_6 THE CIRCLE K " I told you to wait. Wait," reminded Number One. So into the elation of the Circle K crept a sensation of uneasiness. " How are you feeling, Luis," asked Phil, as soon as he could, after dinner. " He all right. He champion shearer," asserted Hombre, sticking close as spokesman and attendant. " He t'ree sheeps ahead ; mebbe more by night, hey, Luis, amigo ? '* Luis smiled and stretched himself flat, like an athlete, on the ground, in the sun. But Big Ben was sitting, leaning against a stanchion of the shearing shed interior, rubbing and kneading his wrists and working his hands. At the call of one o'clock the contest was on again. As in the morning, Luis was first with the snip of his shears. However, as if girded afresh for the fray. Big Ben seemed to spread a new atmosphere. There was something about him, as he settled to his work, which spelled confidence. His shears cut wide and straight and firm, faltering never, making never a stroke which must be repeated; and against his knees he held the sheep as in a vise. They turned to his every pressure. While he sheared, he launched again into a hymn: " A church without a prophet is not the church for me ; It has no head to lead it, in it I would not be ; But I've a church not built by man, Cut from the mountains without hand, A church with gifts and blessings, oh, that's the church for me ; Oh, that's the church for me, oh, that's the church for me. THE GREAT SHEARING MATCH jy "A church without apostles is not the church for me ; It 's like a ship dismasted afloat upon the sea ; " As the words resounded along the shed, here and there the Mormons in the pens took them up, until from end to end a hearty chorus rang : "A church with good foundations, oh, that 's the church for me, ♦• The hope that Gentiles cherish is not the hope for me ; It has no hope for knowledge, far from it I would be ; But I've a hope that will not fail, That reaches safe within the vail, Which hope is like an anchor, oh, that 's the hope for me." It impressed Phil oddly; it reminded him of a camp-meeting which once he had attended, years (at least, several years) back. In the singing was some- thing fierce, exultant — as if boding ill for the hopes of the Circle K. "Luis, he no sing; he work," explained Hombre, zealously. " Well, he's only two sheep ahead, now," remarked Mr. Simms, quietly. " That Mormon is just striking his gait." " He's shearing left-handed! " exclaimed Chet, sud- denly. "He's changed!" For Big Ben had shifted his shears from right hand to left, and was working as deftly and as strongly as before; yes, more strongly, as seemed; for presently Luis was only one sheep ahead. " That's his secret," nodded Mr. Admun. " He's two handed, and both hands are his best." " How's the war ? " queried Ford, coming in dusty and panting from the corral. J78 THE CIRCLE K "That Beeg Ben, he shear with both hands," an- nounced the voluble, excited Hombre. *' Luis, he shear with one hand; no good with both hands. I t'ink that no fair play. What you t'ink?" " I think that Luis' name is Dennis," answered Ford, glancing in upon both contestants. "No; hees name Luis; Luis Francisco Castillo de Cordova," corrected Hombre. " He champion shearer of sheeps, but he shear with one hand." " He'll have to shear with both hands and with his feet, too," declared Mr. Simms, " if he expects to beat out this Mormon. Hi, look at that! Last string in the two hundred bunch is gone." " Same with Luis," announced Phil, quickly. " That's two hundred apiece, then. Now they're even." But Big Ben had caught up. The news traveled along the aisle, from pen to pen, where the shearers were working and listening, too. Some voice struck up with a line or so of the hymn, but ceased. " We mustn't stand that. Let's give them the nine 'rahs, for Luis, son," proposed Ford. " He needs en- couragement when the other team has the ball." " Fm game," answered Phil, readily. And together they cheered: " 'Rah, Vah, 'rah ! 'Rah, 'rah, 'rah ! 'Rah, 'rah, 'rah ! Luis!" " Again," bade Ford. " We won't try the whole name." And this time assisted by Chet they cheered again. Above the shearing pens perspiring heads protruded THE GREAT SHEARING MATCH 79 curiously for a moment; some of the shearers laughed. " What you-all makin' such noise f oh ? " asked Haney, arriving. *' Ain't gone crazy this early, are you? Expect to go crazy myself aftuh I'm out on the range awhile with the woollies." " No. We're cheering because we're licked," said Ford. The Texan grunted. *' Ain't much on that kind of a cheer, me," he com- mented. " When I'm licked, I'm too out o' breath runnin' away, or else I'm daid." But the Circle K was not necessarily licked yet. Sheep for sheep the two shearers were working; with almost simultaneous movement changing pens, after their allotment of ten each was finished, to commence upon another ten. Twice they did this, and it was only through the warning of Mr. Admun that the end was forecasted. " Your Calif ornian's hard on sheep," he com- mented, aside, to Mr. Simms. " Look at the blood. He taking off the mutton with the wool. That means he's tired. He don't shear true no more." " I've been noticin' that myself," said Old Jess, who had strolled up, an interested observer. " There's enough good meat stickin' to those pelts to make a chile con carne. What you sellin' 'em for, George? .Wool or mutton ? " '* He'll have to stop that," assured Mr. Simms. " I'll lose the match, but I won't have my sheep cut all up. Tell him, Hombre." 8o THE CIRCLE K " I t'ink he tired," admitted Hombre, ruefully. " That other man he use both hands. No fair." The Californian breed (for he was a mingling of Indian and Spanish) plainly was in distress. He panted painfully, and drove his shears now by sheer force of will. He staggered as he shoved aside his sheep, tied his fleece, managed to toss it over blindly and grasped for a new animal. The handkerchief about his brow was saturated with perspiration, and so was his crimson shirt, and the knees of his over- alls, and the seat of them, drawn tight as he stooped. But Big Ben was as ever ; perspiring, it is true, until the drops trickled down his whiskers, yet shearing with the same masterful, clean, wide strokes, powerful and sure and steady. Suddenly there came from Luis' pen a muttered word or two, in strange language; and Hombre cried out, dolefully. " He got cramp. See ? Cannot get shears off. I help heem." And leaped in to the rescue. For the Californian, trying to straighten his stiff back and limbs, was holding out his right hand, which seemed frozen to the shears-— or, in its appearance, with the cords standing forth and the veins swollen, as if fast to a live electric wire. Hombre caught the hand and unflexed the thumb and fingers, and while the shears fell to the floor solicitously rubbed, talking in Mexican. Luis, relieved, shook his head. He climbed out of the pen. He did not vault, as before; he climbed, THE GREAT SHEARING MATCH 8i wearily, and saying not a word, went out into the sun and stretched flat in the sage. " All off, I reckon," quoth Old Jess. ** Luis, he say he can shear no more. He shear two hundred an' fourteen, an' he get cramp. Could shear many more if he no get cramp," explained Hombre. " Pen too small, he say, anyway." "That's right. Never knew an Indian who wouldn't quit if he could when he was gettin' licked," said Old Jess. "Bah!" " Well, he was hired for a herder, not a shearer, Jess," reminded Mr. Simms, with a laugh. "He good herder, too," asserted Hombre, anxi- ously; and squatting beside Luis, his friend, rolled a cigarette. Out of the corner of his eye Big Ben must have seen. Suddenly, like a paean welled from him a mighty song, rumbling and boisterous : " Hurrah for your cringing, blethering beast I For we are the shearing men ! We rollick our way from West to East And swagger it back again. There 's food and drink and a life so hale, There 's silver and work and play, For those who follow the shearing trail From Cali-for-nia-a-a-a-a! '' " Quit if you want to, Ben," boomed Mr. Admun, looking in upon him; and the others crowded around. " The Injun's quit. He's out. Purse is yourn." Big Ben glanced up, with smouldering fierce eyes — twain eyes, deep set, glowering amidst the thicket of 82 THE CIRCLE K his hair. He shook his matted head, and with the movement flung aside his hat. " Shear for a record, eh ? " resumed Mr. Admun. "All right. Go to it." Big Ben's paean died to a croon, and he snipped on. With never a word, sheep after sheep he handled, while as in the morning comrade after comrade left the pens below to walk up, look in a moment, and hasten back to their own work. The word that the Californian had dropped out, and that now Big Ben was shearing for a record, had reached every ear. Luis, accompanied by Hombre, strolled to get a drink at the pump near the dining-hall ; then he, also, joined the group about the pen wherein Big Ben toiled. He smiled, and at any queries shook his head, and ruefully held out his right hand, swollen and trem- bling. Evidently he thought that he had done his best. Twas past five o'clock. Big Ben had not faltered. His second bunch of strings had melted away so that now scarcely half of the hundred remained. " Jiminy ! " muttered Chet, admiringly, under his breath. As six o'clock drew nigh, even faster but no less steadily sheared Big Ben. Many of the other shearers had knocked off early, and now they gathered to wit- ness the finish. '' Quarter to six," announced Mr. Admun. " He'll not finish out those strings, but he'll come near it; and he'd do it, too, if it wasn't for tieing the fleeces.*' The minutes passed. As if on the home-stretch THE GREAT SHEARING MATCH 83 Big Ben again struck up a paean — not this time the Cahfornia shearing paean, but another Mormon hymn : " In thy mountain retreat God shall strengthen thy feet, On the neck of thy foes shalt thou tread; And their silver and gold, As the prophets have told, Shall be brought to adorn thy fair head. " Oh, Zion, dear Zion, home of the free, Soon thy towers will shine With a splendor divine. And eternal thy glories shall be." The throng about his pen joined in, and the lines swelled loud. The sheep against his knees was shorn. Quickly he tied the fleece, and just as Mr. Admun said, in sharp tone : " Six o'clock," he slowly straightened and lifted it high. He stood holding it, his eyes flaming, until the last verse was completed. " Two hundred and seventy-three," he roared, exultant, towering like a hairy giant. And he swore a big oath. " Is there any Calif ornian shearer who can beat that?" He hurled the fleece from him; his shears fell clat- tering as he kicked them aside. Where the crowd silently parted for him he clambered out, and stalked away, with head bowed. *' Men," addressed Mr. Admun, " that's some shear- ing. It sets the mark, or I'm mistaken. You two lads of the Circle K have seen a feat you'll not soon see again, I reckon. Two hundred and sixty sheep, in ten 84 THE CIRCLE K hours, fleeces tied, was the record before Big Ben set a new one." Now a cheer arose; the men flocked to supper, but Big Ben was not among them, and the two boys looked about for him. At the farther side of the shed they came upon him, kneeling in the sage there, his head low forward from his shoulders. His voice rumbled and quavered. " He's praying ! " whispered Chet, clutching Phil's arm. They stopped short. Presently Big Ben, with a groan, arose. He strode toward the boys. His face was haggard and dark. There was no use in retreating, so Phil addressed him boldly. " We were looking for you to congratulate you," he proffered. " That record will stand for a long time. Two hundred and seventy- three — whew ! " " It shore was some shearing," chimed in Chet. Big Ben gazed down upon them gloomily. " Never again will I set my hand to the buck," he said. " I have lifted up my voice in pride, I have taken the name of the Lord my God in vain, and I have em- ployed the skill which he hath given me in the lust of worldly strife. He hath bid me cease, and I am done." He stalked away. And sure enough, early the next morning, with scarce a word to anybody, Big Ben, carrying his bundle, took the road for the station, and for his farm in Utah. CHAPTER VII LAMBING RANGE WARNINGS Divided into three instead of two bands were now the Circle K sheep, cut out and apportioned as they issued from the shorn-sheep corral. Under Haney the Texan cowboy and Hombre the Mexican, under Ford, the Harvard and Boston man and Luis the Californian, under Phil and Chet and Gus the Wyoming herder, in the three detachments of some fifteen hundred each they trailed from the vicinity of the pens, and in the afternoon sun went baaing and trotting onward into the east. As they streamed out, the first band of the Box outfit streamed in, for the shearers. An- other outfit was in the horizon. And at the same time, with creak of leather and clink of chain, and sharp shout of driver as he uncurled his long lash over their backs, a twelve-horse wool-train settled into their traces, starting with the first consignment of the Circle K wool for the warehouse and station twenty miles distant. There were one hundred and nineteen sacks, weighing each over three hundred pounds, in the Circle K tiers. Ford and Luis had the lead; on the right, so as to follow where there was grazing en route, were the boys and Gus, on the left were Haney and Hombre. And well satisfied were the boys to be assigned to the 85 86 THE CIRCLE K company of Gus, who knew sheep, and who had Kitty the dog. Mr. Simms had ridden ahead with Old Jess and the burro pack-train, to locate the camps. White, gaunt, long-legged, with the big black Cir- cle K showing so plainly ttpon their rumps, traveling light the sheep traveled fast, snatching as they went at the herbage. The instructions were not to urge them, but fifty lambs had now arrived, and 'twas high time that the whole flock was placed upon the lambing range, with its good water, good feed, and quiet. " Do you think we'll have trouble, Gus ? " called Phil, from his station, upon Pepper, behind the hurry- ing band. "Where?" " On the lambing range, where we're going." " Aw, dad's not afraid," called Chet " We never heard the Black Mesa was cattle country, especially. Dad knows." " But the Box man said it was posted." " Well, if we have trouble we will have trouble," said Gus, nonchalantly. " Twelve hundred sheep and my dog they killed on me t'ree years ago." "Didn't you fight?" called Chet, quickly. " Not very hard. I was one man and they were fif- teen or twenty. You have to t'ink of your own hide in a case like that. I'd have simply been killed myself, and the bosses would have hired another herder — so I would have been out of a job, too ! " This last assertion seemed superfluous, but it was grimly delivered. The boys cogitated. Jhen Chet spoke half defiantly: LAMBING RANGE WARNINGS 87 " Well, the cowmen have to have some place to run their cattle. When you bring your sheep in you spoil it, and we won't stand for that." " Who iss we ? " demanded Gus. " I mean the cow outfits. I forgot. We're running sheep ourselves now," admitted Chet, somewhat abashed. And Phil must laugh. " Yes, you are. And you will find that makes a difference when your own mutton iss piled up," an- swered Gus, with his slow, careful speech. " The cattle- men t'ink they can do as they please, and that sheep have no rights to graze anywhere; but some day they will meet with a fight, and then they will laugh out of the other side of their mouths. We have as much rights as they have, on open range. When they killed my sheep and my dog that I had had for many years we were not doing one bit of harm. It was a free country. They did not own it and they were not using it all." "Well," began Chet, belligerently. And quit '* You joost wait till your own sheep are piled up and your dog killed too," reminded Gus, stolidly. "Then you will know more." When behind them the sun was touching the mesa- line of the golden west, they all went into camp — a dry camp amidst the sage where already Old Jess and Mr. Simms had deposited the rolled-up tents and the night's supplies. The shearing shed and associate structures of corrals and bunk-house and dining-hall had disap- peared ; and again the Circle K was by itself, amidst a wide, monotonous expanse of rolling gray-green brush. 88 THE CIRCLE K By the time that out of the smoke-pipes projecting from the fronts of three tents the supper smoke was wafting, the sun had sunk, the west was pale lemon, the east was pink, and overhead the dark blue sky was faintly pointed with the first stars. Amidst the dusky sage the sheep were blatting, wandering to and fro, nibbling, shoving, wanting water — only the few lambs being able to relieve their thirst and hunger at the same time. **Do you notice?" queried Phil, as he and diet trudged back and forth, stumbling and tired and empty, trying to keep their band in compact shape and settle it for the night. " They all want to edge toward the west. They're trying to get back to the shearing pens, where they were corraled." " No, they are thinking about Utah, where they came from," corrected Chet. " Isn't that one brown-legged thing the limit, though? He's always leading off. He's worse than that white mare we had in the round-up bunch, with the bay chestnut colt that was eaten by the carcajou. Get in there, blame you ! " " Wish we had the dog," said Phil. " Who ? Gus's ? Aw, he wouldn't let anybody have his dog. They never do." Yes, there was a constant edging of the sheep to- ward the west; whenever they leaked forth, they al- ways headed instinctively in that direction. Through the dim gloaming Gus himself came trudging, with Kitty. "How are they?" he asked. " They want to go back to Utah," answered Phil. LAMBING RANGE WARNINGS 89 " Yes, they want to go back to Utah. They never have been over this road before. The old ones came in another way. But they will remember the lambing range. You boys go ahead and finish up supper. It iss nearly ready. Kitty and I will settle these fool things; hey, Kitty?'' " Come on," said Chet, to Phil. But they both sud- denly halted. High and thin arose a familiar series of yappy barks, ludicrous and excitable, borne in from the south. " Coyote ! I see him," exclaimed Chet. " Over there, on top that hill." He pointed. South about five hundred yards was a sagy knoll, with bare tip of shaly rock. The sky behind was still light, and limned against it was a slim, shaggy figure like a dog, sitting upon its haunches, with nose high held. The nose was sharp, and from it welled again, as if the coyote was inviting attention, that inane chorus. " He might have been a dozen, but he isn't," quoth Phil. "Sic him, Kitty!" "Sic! Sic!" urged Chet. But Gus called abruptly. " Here. Come back here." Kitty, who had bounded away with tremendous unction, as if to eat the coyote alive, suddenly halted, irresolute, and at the herder's words turned and came slinking back. " You will never get her to go very close after a coyote," said Gus, rather peremptorily. " She got her dose when she wass a pup," 90 ;THE CIRCLE K "How was that?" asked Phil. " You'd better tend to that supper while I tend to the sheep and den we can tell stories to-night, may be," replied Gus. " Hey, you ! " and he strode hastily after the brown-legged wether who was again leading forth a little squad, for far distant Utah. " Sure," consented Phil. " Shore," agreed Chet. And together they made for the tent. Here the fire but needed to be replenished, the potatoes and the coffee to be set back over the hot part of the stove, the meat to be started frying, the bread to be looked after, and a can of peas, already opened and dumped, to be heated. The lantern was lighted. And when everything was ready (it rather was fun, to be cooking thus independently, out on the range; fun for Phil, at least, whose cooking experiences had been limited although Chet was an old hand and could even make bread) Gus and Kitty entered. " They won't go far now in the dark," said Gus. " But we will have to ketch dem early in the morning. The minute the sun rises they will light out." " How about that brown-legged sheep who's always trying to sneak off? " asked Phil. "That old wether? I got him safe. He iss tied. I hobbled him and he can't stir till morning," informed Gus, calmly. " I will give him to the first coyote who asks for him. He iss an old rascal." " Oh, yes," prompted Phil. " And what about Kitty and the coyotes ? Did she get bitten ? " " Now I will tell you," said Gus, as they munched. LAMBING RANGE WARNINGS 91 squatting in the light of the lantern around the box up- turned for a table. " A coyote is an awful smart ani- mal, you bet. And he has got sharp teeth, too, and he can fight when he has to, but he won't tackle a dog alone. A good dog can w^hip him too quick. But when t'ree or four of coyotes are together, den one gets up on a rise like that coyote did to-night, and he barks and dares the dog to come and fight him. Puppies and foolish dogs do that. Away they run, to fight the coyote; and he runs, too— just so fast that they can't catch him. And he leads dem right to where the odder coyotes are waiting, and den they all jump on the dog and lick him well. When I first had Kitty, after my odder dog wass killed by the cowboys, she wass young and foolish, and chased a coyote. She wouldn't come back when I called to her. Oh, no. She knew better. But pretty soon after she had gone I heard a big yelping and ki-yi-ing off dere in the brush ; and you bet Kitty come fast enough without calling, with four big coyotes nipping her well. They chased her almost right into me ; and den they run. She wass a very sore dog for several days, weren't you, Kitty? And now she doesn't chase a coyote very far. Dey don't fool her again." Behind the stove Kitty sighed, and muttered a little reminiscent growl, as if she had understood. " Coyotes are smart, all right," agreed Chet, as he polished his tin plate, with bread, to gather the last vestige of gravy. " What was that to-night? A dog coyote? " asked Phil. 92 THE CIRCLE K " No; old mammy coyote, I should say. After you left I could hear her pups, too. We don't want any. old dog coyote around — do we, Kitty. He iss bad medicine for sheep. Last spring I had an old fiend follow my band for t'ree weeks, taking two sheep or lambs a day, before I could shoot him." ".What's an old fiend? " asked Chet. " A dog coyote — or sometimes an old she coyote — who follows along and hunts in the flock. Bear and lion and coyote like mutton the best of anyt'ing; and sometimes a coyote will get after a bunch of sheep, especially in lambing, and stay right with dem, eating off of dem. He gets so he will kill a ewe sheep and won't eat anyt'ing but the udder, and leaves the rest. He iss what we call an old fiend; and we have to kill him. H we don't, he will do lots of damage. Two or t'ree sheep every twenty-four hours mount up in cost." " What do you do; shoot him? " asked Phil. They were washing and wiping the dishes. " Shoot him when we can see him ; but he get very sharp. He knows. He won't go into a trap, you bet. Some herders sink a fish-hook in a piece of mutton, with gloves and standing on a gunny-sack, and tie it to a stake in the brush. If the coyote swallows that it sticks in his t'roat, and then we have him." " But that's cruel," objected Phil. " Yes, it iss cruel ; but we get the coyote and he doesn't get any more of our sheep," answered Gus, coolly. " We've cleaned up the lambing range," informed Chet. LAMBING RANGE WARNINGS 93 "How?" asked Phil. " Put out poison, last winter. Dad says they found forty-six coyote carcasses, this spring. That helps." " Found two good dogs, too," supplemented Gus. " What poisons a coyote poisons a dog just as quick — and quicker, for a dog isn't as smart. They weren't sheep dogs, though. They were cattle dogs." " Well, if we get any old fiend after our band, Phil and I'll shoot him for you," proffered Chet. " You will have a chance. As soon as a coyote hears a lamb baa, he comes mighty fast. I'd rather have a bear around than an old fiend coyote. And a bear iss bad enough." "What does he do?" " Bear ? You won't find a bear out here in the sage. But when he wants mutton he will come right along after it, and he will pick the fattest in the bunch, too. So will a coyote. But a bear will sometimes act sort of crazy and run right t'rough a whole band, striking right and left and taking one in his mout' to carry a little way or eat on the spot. A lion will sneak in and kill four or five and cut their t'roats and drink their blood, and maybe he will carry part of a carcass off and bury it for anodder meal. Did you ever see a link?" " Bob-cat," answered both the boys, together. "No; not bob-cat. He kills sheep; but a link, I mean." "Lynx?" queried Phil. " I call one a link," corrected Gus, unmoved. He puffed his pipe. "Two would be lynx, wouldn't it? 94 THE CIRCLE K A link, he will ride right on the backs of the sheep, in a whole bunch, and you might never know if they did not act queer." It occurred to Phil that they ought to act queer, in such a case! " You don't see a link very often," continued Gus. " The link I mean iss big as Kitty, and has tassels on his ears." " Canada lynx," suggested Phil. " Yes ; Canada link. I saw one up in Montana, four winters ago. He killed fourteen sheep in one night, and we shot him the next morning." Gus pulled off his shoes. He yawned. " Last in bed puts out the light," declared Chet, hastily discarding boots and coat, and crawling under the covers next to Gus. Phil, a little dazed with the sudden transition from wild beasts to lantern and bed, was the one to put out the light. Earlier than ever, it seemed to him, was the Circle K astir the next morning. But then, he had turned in early, also, for when he had put out the lantern the time had not arrived at nine o'clock. The day's drive was taken up, after breakfast, and methodically the three columns proceeded onward through the rolling sage, toward the south of east. " Do we reach the lambing range this afternoon, you think ? " asked Phil, calling across the rear of the band to Gus. Gus nodded, pointing ahead as if it were already in sight. He rode lazily, sitting his battered saddle on one side, more like an Eastern farmer returning LAMBING RANGE WARNINGS 95 contentedly from town on his plongh-horse than Hke a Westerner amidst the open range. The course was directed diagonally athwart a shal- low, bare valley almost a fiat, and toward a low ridge or back fringed by sparse timber. This back was reached about noon; no halt was made, but the bands were pushed right through. Riding along after the sheep — which slipped spryly among the few cedars and pinons and pines as if they were pleased by the diver- sion — Phil noted with the corner of his eye Gus oblique his horse and within a few paces halt. He appeared to be examining something on a tree trunk; Phil turned Pepper, and went over, curiously, to see also. It was a poster of canvas, printed from large type, and had been tacked about six feet up on the trunk of this lightning-splintered pine, which formed a pointer from afar. NOTICE IS HEREBY GIVEN TO SHEEP OWNERS AND THEIR HERDERS. The following new dead-line has been established be- tween the sheepmen and the cattlemen. Beginning at the juncture of the Big and Little Cotton- woods, thence south to the old State Road bridge across Chipetah Creek, thence southwesterly, keeping west of the Black Mesa, to the first rim-rock of the northeast point of the Mesa Colorado. Thence along the eastern base of the Mesa Colorado to the Rico County line. All territory lying south of the Big Cottonwood River and west of this line is Sheep Ground; all territory lying north of the Big Cottonwood and east of this line is Cattle Ground. AND NOTICE IS HEREBY GIVEN THAT THESE LIMITS WILL BE MOST HOTLY CONTESTED FOR, Pated : March I, 1900. g6 THE CIRCLE K Phil read, with an odd chilly sensation — as if some- body had leveled a gun at him with the order : ** Hands up ! " Much of the phraseology was unintelligible to him, because he did not know the country; but the im- port Vv^as perfectly clear, driven home by the conclud- ing threat. This was a dead-line notice, then ! Gus had finished spelling it out to himself. He only shifted to the other side of his saddle, scratched his head, and without sign of emotion kicked his horse and passed by. " Is that one of those notices the Box foreman spoke of ? " interrogated Phil, keeping beside him for a short distance. " Might be," answered Gus, phlegmatic. " Where does that line run ? " " Runs behind us, now," asserted Gus. " Whereas the Black Mesa? " "Ahead, yonder." " Then we keep on going, I suppose." " Sure. Keep on going till we get dere," replied Gus, gently. " We did not put any notice up and we were not asked one way or the odder. I don't know mooch about dose lines, anyhow; but I know where the lambing-range is." So they had crossed the line. What would the cattlemen do ! Would it bring capital punishment ? " What was it ? " queried Chet, when Phil had trotted over to position. " Dead-line notice." "NewQne?" LAMBING RANGE WARNINGS 97 "Last March." "What did it say?" " Told sheep to keep off the Black Mesa." "Aw, the dickens!" scoffed Chet. "We aren't going to keep off, just the same; and they can't make ns. It's all a bluff, I bet you." And the drive continued right on into the hostile country. Occasionally a glimpse was to be had of the two other bands of the Circle K. The bluff had not worked. Phil must smile at the thought of Haney and Ford, and Mr. Simms and Old Jess, being deterred by any hand-bill. And the bullet-headed Box fore- man, either. The sun was low behind when the band of Circle K woollies topped a gentle rise, and pouring over flowed down into a wide undulating territory. Of the two other bands only one was in sight — a half mile to the right and slightly before. It was hastening onward. But Gus shouted to the boys his assistants. " W^ell, dis is it. Dowm yonder we camp." "Oh! Is this the Black Mesa?" exclaimed Phil. " Yes." There was nothing black about it, nor anything dis- tinctively mesa-like. Phil was disappointed — although glad to be at the day's end; for he was hungry and a bit tired of the plodding pace. However, so far as the mesa was concerned, approached from a different direction it probably would appear in a different shape and light. The sheep were baaing and jostling, and even (it seemed to Phil) staring about them in wonder as if half recognizing the region. That sheep had 98 THE CIRCLE K been here before was plain, for sheep skulls and other bones were scattered along the route. Letting the band drift, at the bottom of the slope, Gus changed his course slightly and rode to a small bunch of quaking aspens, where now were to be seen a bundle of canvas and some boxes and other stuff. This was the tent and the supplies, dumped off by Old Jess the camp-tender, who must have visited the spot in advance with his burros and with Mr. Simms. " Whoopee ! " cheered Chet, coming at a gallop, and beating the astonished Medicine Eye with his hat, cow-boy fashion. Phil cheered back, also galloping. But Gus merely jogged, stoically dismounted, and said nothing. The tent was pitched upon the slope of a little hill, at the edge of the aspens. Below, twenty yards, through a swale or draw lined with fresh grasses and willows meandered a boggy little stream; above stretched the sage; across and around were sage and flowering weeds, and rolling country broken by rim- rock here and there. It was a wide, free, open region, with water and short grass and upland and lowland and patches of shade, adapted to sheep. Strolling about, for a minute, Phil found a curi- osity : a chunk of transparent rock, amber, translucent, smooth, and oddly pitted with small shallow cups. The indications were volcanic — but this did not look like a volcanic country at all. " See here, what I've picked up," he said, exhibit- ing. LAMBING RANGE WARNINGS 99 Chet laughed long and loud. Gus simply smiled. " We call it salt. That iss a piece of rock salt left here. Taste it, if you want to." " Sheep have been licking it," giggled Chet. " That's what makes those holes. You going to lick it, too?" Phil paused, and declined. " That iss left from last year, or the year before," explained Gus. " Phil thought it was rock," giggled Chet. " He was going to send it home ! " ** Well, I don't see how it lasted through the winter, and the snow and rain, clear from a year ago," de- fended Phil. " We put it right out on the bedding-ground and let it stay," answered Gus. " It will not melt. Sheep lick it away faster than it melts. It iss ever-lasting salt." " It sure is hard," commented Phil; and by a jerk he parted with his treasure. " We will bed dose sheep and den get supper," directed Gus. " There iss the bedding-ground, below, where dose old coyote flags are." ''Those things on sticks?" queried Phil. For he saw, just below, a number of short poles and cedar branches set up, as if marking out a boundary. Shreds of cloth were clinging to them. " Yes," asured Gus. " Scarecrows," supplemented Chet. " We call dem coyote-flags," explained Gus, stol- idly. " In the morning we must fix dem better. Now 100 THE CIRCLE K I t'ink we round dose sheep up. They will recognize the place when once they are on it." From where it had been lying amidst odds and ends of camp equipment Gus picked up a long staff with a curved handle like an umbrella's. He examined it with an air of affection, and now grasping it seemed more satisfied. "What's that— a shepherd's crook?" asked Phil. " This iss my hook," informed Gus, without the least touch of romance. " I have carried dis hook for five year." " He catches sheep by the legs with it ; don't you, Gus ? " invited Chet. Gus nodded. " Sometimes," he said. " Come on, Kitty. You and I will go one way, and the boys will go the odder, and drive dose sheep where they belong." Using his " hook " as a staff he trudged off, pic- turesque, but business-bent. CHAPTER VIII MORE WARNINGS It was late afternoon of another day. The camp had now settled down to business. The shreds of cloth on the sticks erected around the bedding-ground and in the vicinity had been eked out by some sacking, and by a pair of ragged overalls, and by an old coat and an old hat. Thus stood up the coyote flags, re- arrayed to keep the wary scavengers at a distance from the central portion of the range. Additional salt, in squared white cubes as large as a coal-hod, had been distributed upon the dirt-hard bedding-ground itself. The sheep had passed a peaceful night; more lambs had arrived; and now another day of herding upon the lambing range was drawing to its close. The sun was again setting, flooding the sage with his broad, golden beams. The sheep had strayed hither and thither, and in a wide circuit Phil and Chet, and Gus, and Kitty the dog, were toiling to turn them and drive them in for the night. Baaing, they re- sponded to voice and gesture; out from the tall sage, and from the aspens which clustered upon the hill crest, they scampered, protestingly looking back with snaky yellow eyes at their pursuers, and trotting on again, eating as they went. It was hard for Phil to credit that sheep were not smart; their eyes were so zox 102 THE CIRCLE K uncanny a'lld Knowing, mysterious as a cat's eyes; and with such promptness they bolted from their coverts at the approach of the herders. On the right of the gathering host was Chet, scouring that flank; in the middle was Gus, with busy Kitty; on the left was Phil. He could hear Gus' voice, urging and scolding recreant animals. " Get in dere, you old fool ! You brown-legged rascal, I set the dog on you, if you don't watch out. Go on, little fellow. I ain't got your mammy. Run along. You'll find her. Say, who yoii looking for? I ain't got your baby, either. H you have not sense enough to find your own baby, nobody else iss going to find it for you. You brown-legged scamp! Bite him, Kitty! Joost bite him good! We'll teach him not to try sneaking off, won't we ! Baa-aa-aa ! Blat, if you want to. You've been eating all day. Now you got to go to bed." Amusing was Gus' monologue, addressed to the sheep as if they could understand. And understand they did, apparently: for when he leveled a remark at the troublesome brown-legged wether, that sheep jumped and did as bidden. So did the others. And with " Hi ! " and '' Get out of there ! " and " What's the matter with you ? " Phil also began to talk. It was hard work, this ; trudging up slope and down slope, routing out the woolly people. When he drew near, crashing through the brush and through the as- pens which were a part of his territory heads were lifted, yellow eyes stared at him, and with toss of nose MORE WARNINGS 103 and flirt of short tail the obedient folk went trotting, to join the main column. Many more lambs had arrived, to-day and in the days and nights preceding. Wobbly, funny little things they were, innocent and defenceless. Several times, on this the evening roundup, Phil came upon small babes curled amidst the brush ; so soundly asleep, tired by their day's footing, that he had to touch them with his toe to rouse them. Whereupon they jumped up all startled and confused, and bolted in any direc- tion whatsoever until turned aright. " Search dose aspens out good," shouted Gus. " Dere'll be some away back in, probably, trying to hide." The aspens were harder to ransack than the sage brush. Driving out little squad after little squad, Phil penetrated deeper, his eyes and ears alert. The aspens dipped into a shallow basin, where was a bed of longer grass, warm in the sunshine which filtered in and spangled it with light and shade. There was a rustle and a feeble blatting, plaintive and piping; and before his feet Phil saw lying, in its last struggles, a lamb. A gash was in its soft throat, and a fang hole on the top of its head ; and something had torn its tail. Even as he looked, it stiffened, and died. Stock still he stood, staring at that sudden evidence of tragedy. He stared and listened. But everything was peaceful. The sunlight fell across the grass, the recess was warm and genial, the aspens faintly rustled, while mellowed by the intervening trees came float- ing in the voices qi the flock and the cries of Gus. 104 THE CIRCLE K But here, in broad daylight, within stone's throw of the open and within easy sight of the very tent, some- thing had stalked and killed a lamb. Coyote ! It must have been a coyote, already — and that boded ill for the band. Phil, his first surprise and momentary alarm abated, ventured to move and to examine more closely. The long grass was but slightly mashed, where the body of the lamb was lying. Beyond, was another spot where grass was flattened, as if the lamb might have rolled there, too. Now stamping boldly about, Phil could discover nothing else ; but he was not at all certain that the coyote might not be lying within a few yards, watching him. This w^as an uneasy sen- sation to have. So Phil returned to the lamb's body. What a nervy thing that was, in a coyote: to work by daylight and while men and a dog were shouting and barking, right at hand. But it had sneaked through the aspens, or down through the long grass of the little basin, had pounced upon the lamb — pounced twice, evidently — and had downed it, and then had left only because Phil neared. " You won't eat him, anyway," declared Phil, ad- dressing the unseen despoiler. He picked up the little carcass — warm it was, and woolly and soft and pathetically lax — and carrying it over his arm proceeded, driving before him a few straggler sheep. These appeared not to be conscious of what had occurred virtually in their midst. Their principal thought seemed to be grabbing mouthfuls of herbage as they trotted. MORE WARNINGS 105 Converging with this his last squad into the open where was being trailed the main band, Phil saw that Giis too was carrying a lamb. But the distance and the uproar of sheep voices were too great for exchange of news; beyond Gus, was Chet. Kitty trotted right and left, slyly quickening the laggards. The gather for the night was complete. If any sheep had been missed they must stay out; man and dog had done their best. In a wide shaggy column the sheep went streaming on through the sage, their voices, high and low, united in a tumultuous chorus, the evening hymn of the sheep range. Above the woolly backs floated a golden cloud of dust. Lambs scampered, anxious mother ewes halted and looked back, calling; w^ethers baaed more hoarsely — an eye on the herders, an eye on Kitty. About this sunset march, which Phil was to see many times repeated, and which always somehow appealed to him as a fit- ting close to a long, sunny day, was something human. As the foremost of the sheep flowed upon the bed- ding-ground, they slackened and smelling along, stopped of their own accord, in confused, tentative fashion. The others crowded in, until all were jos- tling and baaing, and milling there ; the bedding ground was filled. Some of the sheep licked the salt, some drank of the stream, but the majority stood still, or ambled around ; and all baaed. " What you got there ? " demanded Gus, as Phil approached. " Dead lamb. Coyote killed him. What you got? '' " This ? This iss a twin. Where was your lamb ? " io6 THE CIRCLE K " Found him in a bunch of grass, among the aspens. He was just dying. I must have scared the coyote off. It was a coyote, sure, wasn't it?" " Guess it wass," said Gus. Chet came over. " See how he got him? Made a grab and missed him, all except the tail. Sometimes I t'ink a coyote grabs for the tail on purpose, to t'row the lamb. But when he got hold, he sunk his upper teeth in the top of the skull, and the lower in the t'roat — see dose marks? That fixed the lamb. It crushed his skull and it opened the jugular vein. A coyote is smart. He picks the fat ones, and he always strikes the jugular vein in the t'roat." " Remember when a coyote got old Tom ? " asked Chet, of Phil. " In that arroyo by the ranch house winter before last? That was nerve. They've stolen chickens in broad daylight, in the ranch-yard, too." " One lamb gone," commented Gus. He threw the carcass far into the brush. " What did you bring him in for? To show? '* ** I thought I'd fool the coyote out of his supper," answered Phil. " Aw, he wouldn't have touched it after you'd touched it," proclaimed Chet. *' Would he, Gus?" " No. You could have let it lie till it began to rot. Hold this little fellow, will you? Now I must ketch his brother before too dark and tie them togedder." "What for?" " The mother forgot she had two babies, I guess. She won't let dis one eat. I saw her driving him away. She butted him good, and the odder little fellow wass MORE WARNINGS 107 getting all the milk. That iss often the way with twins ; the mother doesn't know she has two, or else she iss sort of rattled. Wait, I'll show you how we get ahead of her." He left Chet holding the little lamb, and entered amidst the uneasy band upon the bedding-ground. He weaved here and there, looking carefully, Kitty sob- erly at his heels. Suddenly he stooped, and thrust along the ground with his hook, catching something and drawing it toward him. This proved to be an- other lamb. He lifted it, and carrying it in his arms threaded his way out of the herd. " Sure that's it, are you? " queried Phil. Gus half smiled — the nearest to a smile that he had yet effected. " I know a lamb when I see it," he said. " If I don't, Kitty does. I could place every lamb in the bunch with its mother, I bet you." Which, considering that all lambs seemed to look alike, struck Phil as remarkable. " Now we will hobble dese two little fellows to- gedder, and when one gets a drink the odder gets a drink, and pretty soon the mother will be used to hav- ing dem." With a piece of stout cord from his pocket Gus con- nected the left hind leg of the one lamb with the right hind leg of the other, leaving slack between about two feet long. He placed them upon the bedding-ground, and he and the two boys stood off to observe for a moment. The lambs were having a hard time of it. They io8 THE CIRCLE K upset each other, and struggled around like hooked fishes. It seemed cruel — but evidently it wasn't, for Gus merely chuckled, and said : "Dey'll get used to it. The mother will find them to-night, and to-morrow dey will travel together first- rate. After a while she won't let either one suck alone ; she will make it two or none. And den you will see the hungry one running around and yelling for his brother to come, so that he can have a meal. That will be after I take the hobbles off, in about a week." " Supposing you hadn't hobbled them. Would one have died ? " asked Chet. " One would have grown big and fat, and the odder would have been a bum. That is what we call a lamb who has no mother. A bum. If a bum cannot steal enough to eat, den he dies. Well, now I guess we will get supper." From the tent the bedding-ground could be over- looked, and along with the supper preparations fur- nished, to Phil and Chet at least, plenty of entertain- ment. The medley of voices was still unabated. Some were keyed in base, some in alto, and the lambs in soprano. Two or three of the hoarser voices seemed to be exchanging distinct remarks — like a few old gos- sips back from a day abroad. ". Do-on't like it," declared one. " Ba-ad plan," agreed another. "Won't go again," drawled a third. They all seemed disgruntled. *' Ma-amie ! " was calling a mother. MORE WARNINGS 109 " Where's-my-boy ? " was inquiring persistently an- other. "Maud!" called a third. '* Ma-ma ! " wept a baby. Every now and then from the edge of the bedding ground, out into the sage scampered a dozen or so of little lambs in single file, as if playing at follow-my- leader, weaved at full speed through the brush, and circling came back again. It was a pretty sight, in the waning twilight. " Got to have their play before dey go to bed. Dey are never too tired for that," spoke Gus, pausing to watch, too. " Look at dem. Joost like any odder youngsters, aren't dey. I always have to laugh when I see dem acting up so." But he didn't. " How do we know all the sheep are here ? " queried Phil. " Do we count them, ever ? " " The only way to tell iss by the markers," informed Gus. " Dose black sheep, dose are the markers. Dat iss why we keep black sheep. In a band of sheep you always see some black ones. When all the black ones are on hand, den it iss not likely dat many sheep are missing, or a black one would be gone. We got eleven markers in dis band. Dey are all here, too. I counted dem." No coyote barked this night, but there was plenty to listen to. The uproar on the bedding-ground was main- tained until long after dark. Gradually, however, the voices died, by ones and twos and threes, until^ about nine o'clock, when the tent went to bed, there were just a few, occasional little murmurings. no THE CIRCLE K Once in the night Phil was aroused by Gus, who had raised to one elbow, as if listening. The chill darkness enveloped everything, but from behind the stove Kitty growled, and from the bedding-ground was wafted an uneasy, querulous interchange of lamb and sheep voices, sleepy, confused, uncertain. These died down again, Kitty snuggled and sighed, and Gus re- laxed, to sleep. His snores resumed. Chet also was snoring — or very near to it, with his heavy, regular breathing. For a time — not long, of course, but it seemed long — Phil lay on his back, listening and think- ing. He pictured the wide, lonesome open now veiled by the chill night, with the sheep and the little lambs grouped here and there defenseless upon their bed- ding-grounds while around about, keen for their blood, prowled slinking coyote and bob-cat, and sniffed wistfully from the timber lion and bear and wolf. Everything considered sheep fair prey — yes, even the men who had posted that dead-line notice. And against all their enemies the sheep had only their herders. Then he dropped off to sleep. Scarcely, it seemed to him, had he closed his eyes and started a dream, than he was awakened by Gus pulling on his shoes. However, the darkness had grayed, and from the bed- ding-ground was wafted a blatting and baaing which momentarily increased. This was morning, then. So he sat up. Chet likewise stirred, and yawned. Gus began poking sage-brush splinters into the stove, and from behind it the black, bushy shape of Kitty promptly backed out, in alarm. MORE WARNINGS in Boots on, Phil unbuttoned the flaps and stepped through. The east was Hght; overhead a few stars faintly twinkled, while in the path of the nearing sun great Venus hung like a distant electric arc light. The sage was becoming distinct. As Phil seized the axe and chopped at a fragment of cedar lying by, Kitty also slipped out from the tent, and yawning surveyed the landscape as if taking inventory. A little morning breeze was blowing ; it rustled some- thing which sounded like a dried leaf; but looking, Phil saw a paper fastened to the tent flap. He went and inspected it curiously. Then he unpinned it and read it again. 'Twas a scrawl, but plain, upon a torn bit of paper bag : " Take yourselves and your sheep out of here or there 11 be trouble. You aren't wanted. Committee." Phil's heart thumped. The paper had so mysteri- ously appeared and was so blunt in its straight com- mand. It was again as abrupt and as uncivil as a leveled pistol. He took it in. " See here what I found ? " he said, to Gus, hand- ing it over. " What is it? " demanded Chet. " Another dead-line notice pinned on the tent flap." " Aw, wouldn't that kill you ! " exclaimed Chet, half in chagrin, half in admiration. " Somebody sneaked up in the night and stuck that right under our noses." Gus had read the lines. He calmly let the paper (drop, and resumed cooking breakfast. 112 THE CIRCLE K ''I heard dem," he remarked. "If I didn't the sheep did. They began to blat, and Kitty growled, and that waked me. I Hstened but I couldn't hear anyt'ing more." " I heard you. You waked me," informed Phil. " I didn't hear anything," declared Chet. " What was I doing? " ** I didn't know either of you wass awake," said Gus. " But one of you wass breathing so hard I t'ought it wass scaring the sheep ! " '' That was Chet," promptly assured Phil; and Chet feebly giggled. " What are you going to do about that, an3rway," asked Phil. " What ? " Gus turned the potatoes over with a knife. " The notice." " Nothing. It iss up to the boss. I guess we will stay. But if he wants to move us, all right." " That is a bluff ! " declared Chet, angrily. " Wait till dad knows about it. If they think they can scare this outfit they're shore mistaken. We leave for no- body. This is sheep range. I'd like to know who put up that notice, right on the tent." " Well, dey ought to know we can't take the trail till we have lambed," commented Gus, evenly. " And there iss no odder lambing range near here outside the new dead-lines." " Just wait till dad knows about it," repeated Chet, with utmost faith in his father. And Phil himself was rather of the opinion, know- MORE WARNINGS 113' ing the veteran plainsman and cattleman as he did, having seen him in action against outlaws and In- dians and sheepmen too, that he would be a difficult person to drive, by bluff or by force. " Doggone dose sheep ! " muttered Gus. " Sounds like dey were leaving the bedding-ground already- Stir dese spuds, one of you." And out he went. But he returned, at once. " It iss joost a few following that old brown-legged rascal. Dey are heading all right, for a wonder. We will graze dem across on the odder side of the draw, to-day. Let dem go. We will eat. But the minute the sun is up dey will scat- ter." The three ate a hasty breakfast, Gus frequently, pausing, listening, and rising to peek through the tent- flaps and observe. " Dey do not want to give a man a chance to eat, even," he complained. That brown-legged one is to blame. Dere dey go ! " And out he, too, went, in haste. The baas had increased to the customary uproar. xA.s the boys followed Gus, they were met by the first rays of the day's sun, shooting over the rosy peaks forming the far distant horizon in the east. As if this had been a signal, the sheep began to spread greedily through the brush; some at a decisive walk as if they were bound to get as far as possible, some sidling about, nibbling, and others trotting, and baaing and trotting again. Little lambs frolicked, or pressed close to their mothers, for breakfast. The bunch led by the brown-legged trouble-maker already had 114 THE CIRCLE K crossed tHe draw and was grazing on the other side; and hither, in steady march, the majority of the sheep were heading. The air was crisp and fresh ; the sage damp and the grass of the bottoms was frosty. " Head dem all across the draw, boys," called back Gus, hurrying. "Turn 'em, Kitty! Over there." And with shout and gesture he proceeded. In a circuit, trudging through the fragrant brush which lifted up its aroma-like incense to greet the sun, the boys also turned back errant squads, starting all the sheep in the right direction, for the opposite side of the draw. But it was an hour, and the sun was waxing uncomfortably hot, ere the band had been located satisfactorily, and seemed to be contentedly feeding. The new mothers (for several lambs had arrived, during the night) must be driven slowly and cautiously. Having arrived again at the tent, with a keen look to see that matters among his charges were progress- ing favorably, Gus, assisted by Phil and Chet, washed the few dishes. A shadow fell across the front of the tent; even Kitty glanced quickly up. A wide-winged bird, black save for a white rim to its pinions flashing as they turned to the sunlight, was swinging over, in great, graceful and powerful circles. Gus sprang as if for one of the rifles. " Go on," he said. " And you keep away or I'll put a hole in you." "Eagle! "spoke Phil. *' Naw, that's a hawk," corrected Chet. MORE WARNINGS 115 "That? That iss a buzzard — turkey buzzard we call dem. They always come to the lambing range, to eat the dead lambs and the down ones too. They get on a sick lamb and sheep and pick out his eyes. You will see buzzards everywhere in lambing time." " He's a big bird, all right," remarked Phil, gazing after, as the black king swung on motionless wing across the brush. " Fedders, mostly,'' observed Gus. " Fedders and smell. I shoot dem when I get the chance." And suddenly he added : " Look at that old fool on the bedding-ground, will you ? She has lost her lamb and t'inks she left it there. Get after her, Kitty! Take her over." CHAPTER IX KITTY THE DOG Kitty, who had been watching, with ears pricked, as if expecting something to happen, at the wave of her master's arm was away Hke a flash — or rather, like some boy after mischief. Straight for the baaing, sillily standing ewe she loped. The ewe lifted her head in alarm, viewing Kitty's approach, and baaed protestingly. Upon the bedding-ground dashed Kitty, around wheeled the ewe, and galloped off, still baaing. Kitty in pursuit. She veered the wrong way, of course, but Kitty cut her off, headed her aright, to- ward the flock across the draw, and quickening her by sundry little nips and growls, sent her at full speed where she belonged. Gus whistled shrilly ; Kitty gave a final nip, as if to say: " There! You stay," halted, looked back inquiringly, looked after the baaing, trot- ting ewe, and at a rather important trot re- turned. "If you see a ewe on the bedding-ground, drive her off," instructed Gus, to the boys. *' They come back, looking for their lambs, when like as not their lambs were within ten feet of dem. If you let dem alone they will stay right there on the bedding-ground all day, without anyt'ing to eat. If you left dem long enough, KITTY THE DOG I17 they would starve to death, in the one spot. They are fools. So drive dem off." " Good dog," said Phil, patting Kitty, who with lolling tongue was with them. " She'd make a fine cattle dog," declared Chet. " While you are here with me, boys, I will have to ask you not to pet Kitty. I had radder you would kick her away when she comes near you." '*Why?" Phil was aghast. Chet stared round- eyed. It occurred to them both that Gus was tremen- dously jealous, to act that way. "Why? Because I don't want any sheep dog I have to t'ink that she has any friend in the world ex- cept me. Kitty has got to mindt, and she and I are alone togedder months at a time. If when I lick her or correct her when she iss bad, she t'inks she can go to somebody else and get satisfaction, den she is spoiled for me. I lick her, you pet her, pretty soon she get so that she sneaks off. No ; don't let her be friends with you. Just leave her alone, please." That sounded like a strange doctrine, yet it had sense in it. Evidently " Love me, love my dog " did not apply among sheep-herders. But it was very hard to resist Kitty, she was so graceful and so affectionate, so silky and bright-eyed. "All right," said Chet. "But I never did hear about that before. We've never been with woollies, though; have we, Phil! " " There iss a lot of difference between handling sheep and cattle," remarked Gus, quietly. " Both are busi- nesses you have to learn." ii8 THE CIRCLE K *' We ought to have two dogs, then," said Phil. " One for you, and one for us." " Not in camp," answered Gus. " We herders have a saying: * Friend to my dog, enemy to me.' And we have anodder saying : * One dog, good dog ; two dogs, half a dog; free dogs, no dog at all.' You try working with two dogs, and pretty soon instead of at- tending to their own business they attend to each od- der's business, and get to racing and running sheep, to out-do each odder, and dey might as well both of dem be shot." He stood, and stretched, and picked up his hook. " Well," he remarked, "if you boys will keep the sheep from straying over the hill, yonder, Kitty and I will attend to dis side. We will graze the band along that slope, to-day — maybe to- morrow." ** Luis has a good dog, too, hasn't he ? " asked Chet, as they started out. "Well, I tell you," replied Gus, soberly. "If I had that dog the first t'ing I would do with her would be to knock her on the head." " Shall we take our rifles ? " asked Phil, as with Chet he started away. Chet grunted. " Naw, they'd only be in the way. There wouldn't be anything to shoot. But we shore ought to have hawsses. It's hard work hiking through the brush, chasing woollies." Phil could not but agree, for he also was enough of a cowboy when out this way to prefer riding to walk- ing. For as everybody knows, who knows anything KITTY THE DOG 119 about the cattle range, a cowman will walk any time one mile to catch a horse for riding half a mile. However, nothing had been said about bringing in the horses, which were hobbled and turned out until needed. And if this was the custom at all the camps, Phil must inwardly laugh over the thought of Haney the Texan puncher reduced to herding afoot ! Although attending to the sheep on foot, trudging here and there through the sage, watching that none of the animals broke over the top of the hill, proved, as Chet had asserted, hard work, it was not unpleas- ant work. The sky was intensely blue, the sun was glowing, the sage smelled pungent and wholesome, in- sects buzzed hither and thither, and flowers, red, yellow, blue and white, uplifted amidst the taller brush. Earth and air were warm, clean, fragrant and friendly. A black buzzard sailed high in the ether; and as Phil gazed abroad a hawk went flapping across the draw, a breakfast for its nestlings dangling from its claws. The mellow baaings of the flock rose in a steady song, as sprinkling the gray-green sage with spots of whit- ish-drab ewe and wether grazed, cropping busily, mothers stared and called, little lambs came for their drinks, or gamboled and explored. Both sides of the draw were sagy; but the farther side extended up into aspens — the area where the lamb had been killed by the coyote — and the hither side, where the boys were herding, out-cropped into gravel and shelf-rock. The sheep were to be kept below this roughness; and consequently they showed a decided tendency to seek it. The brown-legged wether and the 120 THE CIRCLE K old black-face ewe were much in evidence, leading off for forbidden ground whenever they had the slightest opportunity. That was queer ; because the grazing was much better below the top, and the other side of the ridge did not offer anything especially attractive. But nevertheless, the sheep kept the boys fairly active turning them back into the draw again. Chet, who was sitting down, during an interval of obedience, called to Phil, and pointed. " There comes dad," he announced. A speck in the wide expanse of rolling brush, some- body w^as loping and trotting onward, up tlie boys' side of the draw. Chet's sharp eyes had been true, for it was Mr. Simms upon Monte. The two boys stood that he might see them. Chet waved, welcom- ing. The boss of the Circle K halted by them, and Monte fell to nibbling the grass which was thick amidst the sage. The boys might note that Mr. Simms wore, what was unusual for him, a six-shooter loosely hang- ing from a cartridge belt, at his right thigh. "Well, how goes it?" he asked, smiling quizzi- cally as he surveyed the figures hot, afoot, in overalls. "All right. A coyote got a lamb last evening, though," answered Phil. " And we found a notice pinned right on the tent flaps this morning, telling us to get out," exclaimed Chet. " Somebody sneaked up in the night and stuck it there. We don't have to get out, do we, dad ? " Mr. Simms smiled again, but grimly, and his eyes KITTY THE DOG 121 were steel as when they peered along a rifle barrel for the rustlers who had wounded him. " Not to-day/' he said. " Those notices are cheap, I reckon. Haney and Hombre were favored, and also Ford and Luis. They missed Jess and me, in the cabin. We feel right insulted at being left out." "What are you wearing your six-shooter for?" inquired Chet, directly. His father glanced at it inquiringly, and gave it a little hitch. " I have got it on, haven't I ! " he said, as if in sur- prise. " Must have been fastened to my pants. But I'll take it along, in case I meet anybody who might be interested in such things. Old Colonel Colt is coming to be too much of a stranger out in this country, and a sight of him will do some people good. If I could put a gun on every sheep we wouldn't be bothered by lead-pencil notes." Evidently the veteran Westerner had made up his mind to stay on the range. He was not a man to say much, and his " do " was bigger than his " tell : " and now he had said as much as he was going to, the boys understood. So Chet wisely changed the subject. " Can't we ride our hawsses to herd with ? " he pleaded. " This walking makes our feet sore." " No." The answer was prompt. " I don't want horses used on the lambing range. You'll be running over sheep and scaring them, and doing all kinds of damage. While you're herding for me you walk, until we move camp. Where's Gus ? " At that moment Gus arose, and stood into sight, 122 THE CIRCLE K from where he had been sitting, invisible, across the draw. "I'll see him, and then I'll ride on to town," re- marked Mr. Simms. He pulled up Monte's greedy nose. " Don't you worry, boys," he bade. ** Those notices are easy written, as I know myself. We won't interfere with anyone's rights, but we will hold our own." He cantered away, carefully circuiting wide of the sheep, so as not to ride among them and scatter them. " We're not afraid," called Chet, after him. Then he chuckled his familiar chuckle. " Golly, but I'd like to have seen Haney when he read that notice on his tent." " He probably said * pity the pore cowboy,' and that he was * scaired ' — when he wasn't scared at all," proffered Phil. ** There goes that brown-legged fel- low again ! Hi ! " and away he must run, stumbling through the high brush, to head off the truant and the silly followers. The morning passed. As the sun stationed himself higher, the sheep grew less persistent in their wrong- doing, and there were long spells while the boys might lie amidst the warm sage, whence they could overlook their flock, and idle and bask and talk. " There goes Gus to the tent," spoke Chet. " It must be noon. Come on, I'm hungry." Gus looked at them, and waved his arm, as if in sig- nal; so they went. The band of sheep all were practi- cally motionless, standing drowsily dozing, or down upon their stomachs, sleepily chewing their cuds. KITTY THE DOG 123 Threading careful way through one end, avoiding the lambs and the mother ewes, and creating as little com- motion as possible, the boys made for the tent, from whose pipe the smoke already was curling. Kitty, gently wagging her bushy tail, came forward in friendly fashion to nose and snuggle, inviting some love pats ; but Phil could only snarl, crossly : " Get out ! " which hurt his feelings more, he was sure, than it hurt hers. She drew back in astonished manner, and with tail and head down, disappointed sought her master. " Poor little girlie, was he cross to you? " crooned Gus, approvingly, and with much extravagance petted her, even to hugging her head. " You mustn't go fooling around folks, den. Dey don't like dogs. Stay by me. I'll be good to you." Following this Kitty never once approached Phil, and after a single experiment with Chet, and a like rebuff, she gave up him also. Thenceforth there was nobody in that camp for her b^t Gus her master. Which satisfied Gus mightily, but rriade the boys feel downright mean. " I shouldn't wonder if I'd tie her up, anyway," observed Gus, after dinner. " But if you'd like to see a good dog work with sheep, now iss the time, before more lambs come. Let's go out a little. Come along, girl." "V " She and I can handle t'ree thousand sheep any time and any place," he declared, flatly. " Can't we, Kitty. We can handle all the sheep they give us to handle. If I told her : * Kitty, I want dose sheep 124 THE CIRCLE K herded from IHe rim rock yonder, to dose cedars; now don't let dem get outside/ and pointed, to show her, why, she would keep them in limits. She under- stands as well as you." He spoke to her. " Girl, see dose sheep sneaking up the hill. Go 'round, Kitty. Go 'round." At his words Kitty had looked up, bright-eyed: her ears pricked, as she surveyed the band, and when he had directed, and his arm had swung in gesture, away she went. They could follow her as like a black ball she leaped over the sage. The sheep, now ready to graze again, somehow all knew of her approach, and watched her apprehensively. Making a circle she swept around; the sheep (led by the brown-legged wether) who were edging up the side of the draw, with minds upon the crest and the beyond, suddenly stopped short, stared behind, and baaed affrightedly. " They know they are doing wrong — and dey know what the dog iss for," observed Gus. "See there?" Even before Kitty had reached them they had turned, and were scampering back. But they had de- layed a little too long. Athwart their flanks raced Kitty, enjoying herself mightily, sending them down hill at full speed as if the very Old Nick was after them. Singling out the rearmost she bestowed an admonitory nip, as earnest not to stray again. Then she stopped, and gazed inquiringly across for further orders. Gus slapped his hand upon his thigh; and at a lope she returned. Her tongue was hanging, she was pant- ing, but she was eager for more. KITTY THE DOG 125 " It iss not a good plan to send her in much, dis time of year. She excites the ewes. Sheep are afraid of a dog; and when a ewe leaves her baby she some- times won't go back to it," said Gus. " But I will let her have one more go." And he spoke to her. " See here, Kitty," and he pointed. She looked. " You see that black-face little lamb, with the old black-face mother ? Right dere in front of us. I want the lamb. You catch the lamb, but leave the mother alone. Understand? Go on, girl; go on." Kitty hesitated just one moment. Then into the herd she dashed. And sure enough, she was after the black-face lamb. In vain the mother stamped, and baaed ; in vain the herd opened and closed and jostled ; in vain the little lamb scuttled here and there, frantic ; Kitty was not to be denied ; and finally, with a pounce, like a football player blocking off she had shouldered the lamb over and over and out of the cloud of dust she appeared holding it securely but harmlessly by a hind leg. Almost paralyzed with fright it remained quiet. Kitty waited and looked back at her master for further instructions. " All right, Kitty," he called, and slapped his thigh; and rather reluctantly she let go of the lamb, and came in. Gus patted her. " That will do, girl," he said. " Now you had better quit, or I'll have to tie you up." " She's shore smart," admitted Chet. " Knows everything you say, about." " I'd like to own her mighty well," spoke Phil, itch- 126 THE CIRCLE K ing to pat her. " What would you take for her, Gus?" " Five hundred dollars wouldn't buy her — or five thousand, either. I can do anyt'ing with her that I could do if I had anodder herder, and she iss better than a man, too. She can round up sheep in five min- utes that a man could not round up in an hour, and they are afraid of her, too. She nips them but she never draws blood. She iss a heap of company, Kitty is. You won't find many herders who would sell a good dog like she iss. She has worked for me until her feet were all cut and running blood, but she never quit; and a cross word iss the only t'ing she needs to keep her right. I couldn't get along without Kitty — could I, girl?" CHAPTER X COYOTES^ SHEEP AND OUTLAWS The afternoon passed without event. The sheep grazed, mothers maa-ed for their youngsters, young- sters answered or not, as they chose, the sky stayed blue and calm, the sage lay gray-green and endless, shimmering in the sun's generous rays, the near mesas cut clear and unshadowed, as if enchanted, the more distant mesas rose hazy and mysterious, and farther, against the horizon in the east uplifted a mountain range, specked with snow amidst its pale blue mist. " That's where we go," informed Chet. " Dad's summer range is up there, thirteen thousand feet, on Ptarmigan Flats." "When?" asked Phil. " After lambing. In about four weeks." So this misty range was something to caress with the eye and to figure upon. The prospect was not un- pleasing. From the lambing range, then (itself nine thousand feet above the sea- level), there would be the trail across country and up into the mountains an- other four thousand feet, to new grounds. The sun sank lower, signifying the close of a day of perfect peace on the sheep range. It was time to round up the grazers and the baa-ers and the rompers and the sleepers alike, and put them to bed. Gus could 127 128 THE CIRCLE K be seen stalking forth from the spot w here he had been sitting, Kitty at his heels alert for what to her was sport. Opposite, Phil and Chet started in. A sudden animation pervaded the sheep, below. Although they had had all day in which to eat, now when there were signs that they must quit a sudden hunger developed among them, and they began to grab right and left, to store up for the night. Foolish they were, but they knew what was coming when the herders closed in upon them. Along the edges trudged the boys, driving the stragglers out from their nooks into which they had cunningly penetrated. High and protesting swelled the sheep voices as the shaggy people went scampering and grabbing down the slope to join the main mass. The tent marking the location of the bedding-ground gleamed whitish, down the draw three-quarters of a mile. Phil's territory chanced to be the upper part of the grazing tract, and here the rim-rock out-cropped, with various ledges forming little nooks where the old grass and new grass were high amidst gravel and a few boulders. The sheep, with the perversity of their kind, trying to get into the most inaccessible places, had filtered in here, unnoted by herder's eye; and Phil was routing them out. Far up, in among these cul-de-sacs or pockets one squad of a dozen ewes and wethers, and a single lamb, seemed to form the outliers. From above Phil, pausing to take breath, for a moment sur- veyed them ere circling and ousting them. COYOTES, SHEEP AND OUTLAWS 129 The sun was casting long the shadows of the low crags jutting from the ground here and there. The tumult of the herd, the voices of Gus and of Chet, and the scream of a Colorado magpie drifted through the transparent, warm, golden air, balmy with eventide. The squad of sheep grazed vigorously, with one eye on him and the other on tid-bits which they thought their companions might be getting. All of a sudden they scattered and sprang apart as if a bombshell had burst in their midst. Frenziedly blatting they ran in all directions. A dirty-brown, furry shape, the size of a water-spaniel but of lighter build, had shot like a streak into the spot which they were vacating. Sliding, quick as light it turned — a ewe was running blindly — the yellow animal was upon it, they slammed together broadside, and over they went rolling and struggling in a heap, sending the gravel flying and raising a dust. *' Coyote ! " instantly had gasped, to himself, Phil. He had no time to shout, at first; but now with shout and threat he lurched ahead, as fast as he could go, crashing through the brush. The ewe was lying prone, plaintively bleating, mak- ing scarce a movement, defenseless and craven. Half prone over her, the coyote was burying his sharp muz- zle into her throat, snapping and working. Her cries were becoming stifled. But Phil rushed in. So en- gaged was the coyote, and so desperately bold, that he noticed not until Phil was within twenty yards. *' Get out of there ! " yelled Phil, too angry to care for his own safety. I30 THE CIRCLE K The coyote lifted his evil, pricked-eared head. His yellow slant-set eyes fairly flamed; his jaws were red and dripping with blood and saliva. " Get out of there ! " again yelled Phil, throwing rocks as he advanced. The coyote stood. He hesitated a moment, snarling, with tail stiff, bristled up, like a dog reluctant to leave a bone. Then he leaped across the body of the ewe, and with a backward snarl went trotting through the rocks, quickening into an easy lope and disappear- ing around a corner. " You'd better. I wish I had a gun," shouted Phil, after him; and kept on to examine the victim. The ewe lay, breathing fast but otherwise apparently lifeless, except that as Phil bent over, a feeble baa left her half-parted lips. She w^as so utterly craven that almost a disgust for her welled in Phil's heart. She was larger than the coyote, and had yielded to him with about as much readiness as if he had simply told her to fall over and die. And all the other sheep had fled, saving their own scalps, leaving her. He bent over. He could not help but pity her, too. However, the wound in the throat did not seem deep, and but little blood was issuing. She had a gash or two on her shoulder. And that wds all. " Why, get up," he commanded. " You aren't hurt much." He prodded her with his toe ; she opened her eyes, and stared wildly; and with a sudden effort was on her feet, to gallop off baaing, after her companions. Phil searched thoroughly; but the coyote had van- ished. So he followed the ewe. COYOTES, SHEEP AND OUTLAWS 131 Collected from their long sunny day in the fragrant brush, again the band of sheep were flowing in compact column for their nightly bedding-ground. Multitudi- nous rose their voices, the bass of the wethers, the alto and soprano of the ewes, the reedy notes of the lambs. Behind trudged the boys and Gus and Kitty, lords of the flock. Gus seemed to be having trouble in driving a lamb. Singularly weak was this little fellow. He tried his best; but he was scrawny and tottering, and fell and picked himself up only to tumble again. Finally Gus halted to survey him and to give him time. Kitty looked on sympathetically. " Here iss a bum, boys," said Gus. " And he iss about all in. I have been watching him a couple of days." "Where's his mother?" demanded Chet. "Can't we find his mammy? " " No, he iss an orphan, or the same as one. I guess his mammy wass frightened away from him. Young mothers often are; they get nervous. He iss done for." Gus abruptly stopped, and gathering the miserably shrinking little chap by the hind legs swung him aloft; bringing him down with a thump upon the ground, he killed him instantly, and tossed him aside. Kitty ran and smelled of him, nuzzling him wonderingly; but he did not even so much as quiver. "What did you do that for?" demanded Chet. " That's four dollars gone." " He wassn t worth four cents," retorted Gus. " He 132 THE CIRCLE K would not have lived till morning. He wass about starved, didn't you see ? A bum as young as that can't live. He iss too young to eat grass, and every time he tries to get a sip of milk the old ones drive him off. No ewe will let a strange lamb drink from her. Some- times dese bums sneak about the herd, getting a suck here and a suck there, before the ewe has time to fire them; and if they can hold out till they are on grass, den they pull t'rough. I tell you, dese bums get mighty smart at t'ieving. They will steal in the night, while the ewes are asleep. But dis one wass as good as dead. I might as well put him out of his misery. No use keeping him." They moved on, after the sheep. "Don't you ever save bums?" queried Phil. The summary execution, and the thought of these poor waifs mercilessly butted from ewe after ewe, as they tried to eke out existence, gave another tinge of tragedy to the sheep range. Coupled with what he had witnessed when the coyote charged, the picture did not increase his respect for sheep. " Sometimes we can jacket a bum with a dead lamb's pelt and fool a ewe into adopting him. You will see," answered Gus. There was no time now in which to speak of the coyote; for as the sheep were swarming upon the bedding ground, in the twilight, to jostle and dispute and gossip and call and complain ere settling for the night, a horseman came trotting through the sage, from up the draw. It was Mr. Simms again, upon Monte, returning, evidently, from town. COYOTES, SHEEP AND OUTLAWS 133 ** Here's some mail, boys," he said, handing it out. He rested in the saddle, and Monte grazed. ** How goes the day? " " We had to kill a bum," answered Chet. " And a coyote nearly got a ewe while I was right there looking on," narrated Phil. Mr. Simms laughed. " Well, and here's something else to occupy you. I found it at the post-office. Another one is stuck up there." He passed down a folded hand-bill, which Phil opened and read. I500 REWARD I ! ! Escaped from State Penitentiary the night of April 20th, Convict No. 1 332 ; known as Jack Foley, convicted in Rio Blanco County of manslaughter and serving a sentence of twenty years. Will be recognized by having only one eye, the right. Has a record as cattle rustler, kidnapper and desperado. Five hundred dollars will be paid for delivery of his body to Warden of State Penitentiary, or Sheriff of Blanco Co. No chances should be taken with him, as he is apt to shoot on sight. (Signed) R. L. Smith, Warden. The bill exhibited also a picture — a photograph, sure enough, of Foley the man with the one eye, part- ner of Joe the lame man ; who together made a twain, since the summary death of the third, the man with the frozen smile, that had given the Bar B a " heap " of trouble. " Aw^ dad ! " exclaimed Chet, reading over Phil's 134 THE CIRCLE K shoulder. " Is he out ? Now he and the lame man will get together." ** He'll try to kill the lame man, won't he ? " queried Phil. Mr. Simms smiled grimly. " No, I reckon not. It was a put-up job when the lame man turned state's evidence. He did that so as to stay out and get his pard out too, when the chance came. ' Moh trouble on the range,' as Haney will say." " Won't trouble us, I guess," observed Gus, w^ho also had read the bill. " Unless dey have got it in for you personally." " They're cattle rustlers, but they'll rustle anything with hide and meat on," said Mr. Simms. '' That one- eye will have a hard time getting clear, though. The whole country '11 be after him. If he comes riding through you'd better nab him. I saw the Box fore- man, on my way in. His sheep are over there, about ten miles the other side the ridge." " Has he had any notices like we had ? " " Not yet. Suppose he will, though. But they can't bluff him," and Mr. Simms rode on. " And they can't bluff us, either," called Chet, after him. " No ; and they can't bluff us," assured his father, back. " Jiminy, I'm sorry that one-eyed man is out again," remarked Chet, feelingly. " I'm glad Cherry isn't here. She'd be scared half to death." " So am I," agreed Phil. COYOTES, SHEEP AND OUTLAWS 135 They involuntarily gazed out across the sage, glamorous in the twilight, searching as if they ex- pected to glimpse a rider or a pair of riders spurring for sanctuary or for evil deed afresh. But no moving creature was sighted, except Mr. Simms himself trotting on through the dusk, for the central cabin where he and Old Jess bunked. It was time for supper, again. During the prepara- tions, while incessantly baaed the uneasy creatures upon the bedding-ground, Phil related more in detail about the coyote. " That's iss the way, sure," commented Gus. " You are learning sheep. They have no spunk; they have not as much spunk as a rabbit. A rabbit w^ill try to fight, but not a sheep. It is every sheep for itself. The bucks will leave the ewes and mothers will leave their babies, and all run. And if a coyote knocks one over, it stays down, to be eaten. A sheep — " and Gus banged almost angrily on a can that he was emptying, " iss a coward and a fool. Yes, sir. Every t'ing has it in for the sheep. Any animal can lick him, and he does not know poison. Now, a cow will pass by poison brush or will learn not to eat it. But a sheep will go right on eating whatever it comes across. And it will graze a spot bare, and will starve dere, if it likes the place, unless you drive it off. If I did not change our band from one ground to another, they would stick to the same day after day, and not know any difference. A ewe will starve on the bedding ground waiting for her lamb, which she left out in the brush; and .when I find her lamb for her sometimes 136 THE CIRCLE K she will not know it iss hers. In a snow storm sheep will drift against a low bank, and w^ill stop dere and let themselves be covered up and suffocated, and will not have enough sense to climb out. Yes, and you can dry-drive sheep and fetch them close to a water hole and they won't smell it, even dough their tongues are hanging out and they are near dead wath t'irst. You have to bring the water to them ; they never find it. And then if they do not happen to like the taste of it, or the smell, they will not drink, anyway. They would rather die of t'irst right beside it. Bah ! In a snow they half the time will not try to feed; they just wait, and baa. They will not feed in the rain. And a cold rain gives them pneumonia, anyway. Yes, sir ; everyt'ing is against the range sheep — odder animals, poison stuff, weather, and demselves. And people t'ink that herding them is easy." " Worse than a kindergarten," quoth Phil, sympathetic. " I guess so," agreed Gus, disgustedly. ** I do not know that word, but I guess so, anyw^ay." " Aren't there ever smart sheep. Cows are smart, some of them, all right," said Chet. " And horses are mighty smart.'* ** Well, now and then a sheep iss half smart," ad- mitted Gus. ** There are always two or t'ree half- smart sheep in a band. That old, brown-legged wether, he is half smart. And that black-face ewe iss half smart. So the rest do not need to be smart. They joost watch the half -smart ones. You notice that when the brown-legged rascal sneaks off, a lot follow. COYOTES, SHEEP AND OUTLAWS 137 Same with that black-face. If the brown-legged rascal would blat to run, they all would run, and never would wait to see why." " Like cows in a stampede," proffered Chet, wisely. " Yes, and worse. They never wait to smell a coyote; they joost run blind, because anodder runs." " Perhaps they learned to act quick, because they don't defend themselves," suggested Phil. Gus grunted. " And there iss anodder t'ing," he said. " You let a sheep wander off from the band and lose sight of it, and that sheep has to be brought back. He can't find it himself, by smell, and he cannot locate sound. He is more apt than not to head in the opposite direction and keep on traveling. The only t'ing a sheep ever learns is the herder. He certainly savvies the herder, and can read a motion of the arm a quarter of a mile away. That iss the only reason a herder can herd. Lots of time when I start Kitty off, or start off my- self, the sheep turn and move in the right direction before we get to dem." " They have some sense, then," asserted Phil. " Mighty little," grunted Gus. " Sometimes I wonder how any of dem get t' rough a year alive. Listen to dem, now, will you — baaing and baaing, for nothing, before dey go to sleep." Then the talk turned upon the coyote. " He iss an old fiend, I guess," declared Gus. *' All he will t'ink of now will be more mutton. We 138 THE CIRCLE K ought to get him, some way, or he will cost a heap of money. He won't leave his band until we kill him." " If I'd had a gun to-day I'd have got him, all right," asserted Phil. " If you had had a gun you would not have seen him," retorted Gus, calmly. " A coyote knows a gun, you bet. But you might take your guns along, to- morrow. He may make a break, sometime." Supper finished, and dishes washed, Gus left to stand in front of the tent and listen for any untoward sounds from the bedding-ground. He entered again. He yawned; the boys yawned. Kitty crawled back of the stove. Darkness was enshrouding the world without. The uproar from the bedding-ground was diminishing, as animal after animal composed to rest. 'Twas after eight o'clock, and Gus began to unlace his brogans. The boys pulled off their boots. They all crawled in and the lantern was extinguished. " Wonder if we'll get another notice to move, to- night," said Phil, suddenly, breaking the silence. " I'm going to listen," murmured Chet, sleepily. " If I hear anybody monkeying around there's going to be trouble." And as earnest of his intentions he presently lapsed into a suspiciously heavy breathing. " No, there won't be any trouble to-night," grunted Gus; and he, likewise, almost immediately was asleep. Phil tried to stay awake, and watch in behalf of the camp. But amidst the intense stillness, broken only by the gurgles of his companions and by the COYOTES, SHEEP AND OUTLAWS 139 « whimperings of Kitty, as she dreamed, and occasion- ally by a slumberous little baa from a baby lamb, also dreaming, he too sank into deep unconsciousness. Another night brooded over the Black Mesa lamb- ing range. CHAPTER XI AGAIN AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE But the morning dawned without Chet making any sudden sally — and indeed without need for sudden sally by anybody ; for no notice was found fastened to the tent-flaps, and the noise from the bedding-ground indicated that the sheep were still on hand. In the midst of breakfast, eaten with open tent- flaps that the uncertain animals might be watched, Gus must jump to his feet and run out, the boys fol- lowing; for the brown-legged wether w^as leading a bunch in one direction, and the black-face ewe a bunch in another — both directions being wrong. The bunches must be turned back; and now the whole band wan- dered forth, browsing and blatting. By the time that they were established approximately in the right sec- tion, and the herders and Kitty might reseek tent and breakfast, the latter was cold. However, this was merely an incident of the business. The grazing ground for the day, as selected by Gus, was below the tent, and on a rolling flat inter- sected by a narrow strip of dried marsh, where earlier in the season seepage would collect. But now the reeds there were dry and brittle and the swamp-grass dead and matted. The sheep browsed either side of it, amidst the tall sage. They were contented and docile, after their early 140 AGAIN AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 141 morning attempt. Gus sat down, and at their posts opposite the boys might sit down. They had taken their rifles from camp with them. It felt good to Phil to have the companionship again of his trusty carbine, with its romantic history and the bullet gash in the stock where the man with the limp had left a venomous sting that time following the rescue of Cherry, in the rock wash. Spoil from an outlaw*s hands — the hands of the dead man with the frozen smile — the carbine had its stories to tell, even of fights with Indians. Phil was confident that it would add another coyote scalp to its record, if given half a chance. The sun mounted higher, and grew hotter. Insects buzzed, the sky was blue, the sage shimmered and the mesas and mountains rose bluish and mysterious. The lambs gamboled. Many were arriving every day and night. The twins hobbled together had grown so adept that they answered each other's whims very nicely, and seemed but little inconvenienced by the tether. About ten o'clock a horseman appeared, riding leisurely and rather slouchily through the sage, ap- pearing upon the crest of a rise at Phil's right and coming on toward him. By his derby hat and long neck he was readily recognized, even afar. He was the foreman of the Box outfit; and awaiting for him to draw nearer, Phil stood. The sheepman, sitting lazily his white horse, his bullet head and long neck accentuated by the battered derby, pulled short and halted, with a " Howdy? " 142 iTHE CIRCLE K "Howdy?" answered Phil. " Carryin' guns, are you?" remarked the sheep- man. " Yes. There's a coyote about. He's been after the sheep, and last evening I saw him jump on a ewe." " Coyotes are bad, but they're hard to get," com- mented the sheepman, phlegmatically. " Lambs comin' on well?" "Fine. How are yours? You're settled, are you?" " Surely. This is a fine lambin' range. Your boss says he'll stay." "Won't you?" " We got little remembrances last night — notes tellin' us to vamose," informed the sheepman, without apparent concern. " Found 'em on our tents this mornin'. But I don't reckon we'll hit the back trail, not just yet. No," he added softly, with his peculiar flicker of the eyelids, boding fight, " I don't reckon we will. This is sheep country and we're here." Chet had walked over. The sheepman surveyed him civilly. "Howdy?" "Did you get notice too?" demanded Chet, ex- cited. " Let's see." " I fetched one along, for readin* matter on my way." The sheepman drew a crumpled bit of paper from his vest pocket and unfolding it handed it down. " Somebody's an awful poor writer. H he*ll come to me I'll give him a few lessons." He spat tobacco juice, and shifted in the saddle, at ease. The note was practically identical with the one AGAIN AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 143 which had been pinned upon the flaps of the Circle K tent. '* We're here ; and we don't get out, either," rapped Chet, his tanned round face flushing. " They can't bluff dad." " It's different, ain't it, when you're runnin' sheep than when you're runnin' cattle? " remarked the sheep- man, with a touch of sarcasm. " I recollect when you fellers would have sung another song. But we're all together now. Nobody bluffs me, either. I respect any man's rights, and I respect my own, too; and I'll fight. But I've got the only gun in the outfit." "We've plenty of guns; haven't we, Phil!" ex- claimed Chet. " And we'll use them." " Hope they raid you fust, then, if they raid any- body. But there won't be any raidin', mebbe. It's a bad business when cattlemen think nobody can range stock in the open but themselves. I've got my sheep through, to date, and I think I'll get them through again. Well, so long." " So long," replied the boys. They watched him ride away; he halted to ex- change a few words with Gus, and continued. " He's going over to the cabin, I reckon," volun- teered Chet. " To see dad and tell him about the notices." " There go some of your sheep," reminded Phil, nodding. " Oh, thunder ! It's that old brown-legged fool again," and Chet was off on the run. " Wish they'd raid him; he makes half the trouble," 144 THE CIRCLE K Phil laughed. Stumbling and shouting, ^Chet managed to head the errant bunch, and turn it in. An hour passed, and another horseman came riding. At a canter he was aiming to make diagonally through the fringe of sheep on a slope in Chefs territory, and Phil saw Chet stand, and call, and hasten fearlessly out to interfere. The horseman altered his course but slightly, and sending sheep and lambs scattering and baaing cantered out at another point. Chet was awaiting him. Phil could hear his partner's high, angry voice, and went over. " You ought to know better than to ride through sheep in lambing season," was berating Chet, who never hesitated to speak stoutly his mind, when occa- sion demanded. Afraid of nothing was the sturdy Chet, of the round face and the tow hair and the wide blue eyes. " I didn't hurt yore sheep. If I did, a few woollies less in this country wouldn't be a bad idee," re- sponded the man, drawling. " And a few less cattle rustlers and kidnappers w^ouldn't be a bad idea, too," retorted Chet. Phil knew. He had thought that the voice was familiar. A dozen more quick steps, and he found himself with Chet, fronting Joe the lame man: Joe the lame man, hide thief and kidnapper, first en- countered in an arroyo on the Bar B cow range, where he and the man with the one eye and the man with the frozen smile were camped, with Cherry whom they had stolen; Joe the lame man, outlaw, who had shot Mr. Simms through the shoulder, who had scarred AGAIN AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 145 Phil's carbine stock with a bullet and who had been killed, they all thought, by Charlie Pow-wow the Ute ; but who had bobbed up, down in New Mexico on the great drive, and there, steaHng Cherry again from the tent, had shot the bristly man and had at last been arrested, with Foley the man with the one eye, by the sheriff of Blanco County and Charlie the Ute. That was the last thing Phil had heard, when after the drive he had pulled out on the train, bound for home. The brave sheriff was aboard, and said that the two desperadoes were safely shackled in the smoker behind. And now they both were free again — one by pardon, the other by escape. The man with the limp wore leather chaps, fringed in the Southwest fashion. He had a red kerchief about his neck, and a straight-brimmed sombrero hat on his head. He was half cowboy, half desperado. His small, sharp features, his darting black eyes and thin black moustache drooping at the corners, were the same as of old. " Not meanin' anything pussonal, I reckon," he answered, to Chet's remark; he cast a momentary glance upon Phil. " I mean you," asserted Chet, undaunted. " Did you see him ride through our sheep, Phil? Did it just on purpose." " Yes, I saw it," assured Phil. " I thought it was a dirty trick." *' Seems to me you lads talk mighty big, for your size," said the lame man, his rather swarthy face 146 THE CIRCLE K darker. " Don't be so peevish. Forget yourself, once in a while." "We don't forget youj' retorted Chet. "Where are you bound for now, an}"svay? To meet your partner? Wish there were five hundred dollars on your head. We'd make it, wouldn't we, Phil ? " " We shore would," declared Phil. " You wouldn't make five hundred cents," sneered the lame man. " What you packin' guns for ? 'Feared somebody will step on one of yore woollies? Or 'feared the cowboys will come an' run you off? I reckon you an' yore whole outfit is about where it belongs — herdin' sheep. How's yore old man?" " He'll tell you when he sees you." "How's the sheriff?" asked Phil, quickly. . " I'm not lookin' for the sheriff," answered the lame man. " I'm not lookin' for any trouble an' Fm willin' to let bygones be bygones. An' I'd recommend you boys to do the same. It's a good practice out in this country. Yore old man'll tell you so, even if I did beat him on the draw, that time. Well, I'll go on. I got business ahead." He grinned smartly under his thin moustache. " Don't go shootin' me in the back with yore pop-guns when I pass. Might irritate me, an' I'm pretty quick with my hands, sometimes." He pricked his horse — 2l speckled roan — and started on, at cow-pony trot. While he really could not be said to be riding into the sheep, he did not appear to be avoiding them; and it did seem as though on occa- sion he tried to see how narrowly he might miss stragglers along the edge. AGAIN AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 147 Gazing after, the boys could only helplessly ex- change indignation. " Oh, no; he isn't looking for trouble! " exclaimed Chet. " He'll make some of his own brand. I wish he'd keep away from around here." " So do I," responded Phil, heartily. " Hell have to, when your father and the others know about him. The cattlemen will run him out. That's why he's taken to the sheep country, I reckon." " I reckon so," agreed Chet. Gus was making one of his regular circuits, to keep the sheep within bounds, and meeting him the bojrs related the encounter again with the lame man — ^which did not particularly impress Gus. " All sorts of people ride t'rough the sheep country," he said. " Never pay attention to 'em. W^ien they don't bodder me I don't bodder about dem." He stood, soberly gazing out over the sheep. " That Box boss says he got some notices like we did. Somebody wants to treat us all alike, I guess. Dere iss a sick sheep," he added. He pointed with his staff. Down in an open space a grown ewe was standing stupidly, with head dowTi. Even from the distance could be seen that her head was peculiarly large. It was an enormous head; and they all went down to examine. The ewe's head was swollen so that her eyes were well-nigh closed, and it seemed heavy for her to hold. When the three approached she raised it a little and ambled forward a few steps, to halt again, and stand, drowsy and inert. 148 THE CIRCLE K " She*s got the big-head," observed Gus. "Will she die?" " Sometimes it kills dem and sometimes it doesn't." The head was perfectly immense — so immense and puffed as to be grotesque; and certainly it must be very uncomfortable. " I t'ink somet'ing they eat causes it," continued Gus. " Then dere's a worm that crawl's up their nose while they feed and lays eggs in their brain. That give them a bad head, too. Makes dem crazy. They run around and tumble over. I guess we must keep dem out of that swamp bottom. That is where they are likely to get poison, feeding on the weeds dere and the grass where the bad water has lain." "What do we do? Let her be?" asked Phil, in- dicating the sick ewe. " That is all I know," answered Gus. " Sometimes they get well and sometimes they don't." " We'll drive those other sheep out of the bottom, then," volunteered diet. " Come on, Phil." So they left the ewe with the big head (and the next morning she could not be detected from any of the well ones), and strode into the swamp bed, with wave of arm and masterful step and a few shouts to clear it of the sheep. Naturally, because they were not allowed there, the sheep much opposed being ousted. Just why they preferred that dead grass swamp where the herbage was old and uninviting and the sun was hot, nobody might say. In places the receding water, evaporated AGAIN AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 149 by the sun, had left a dried scum; perhaps this was what had given the ewe her " big-head." Not all the grass and weeds were mashed down; some stood, making little bunches here and there. As trudging one way, while Chet trudged the other, Phil searched about for skulkers, he came suddenly upon one outstretched. He could see first only its hind-quarters, projecting from behind a weed clump. But they were too still — all too still; and stepping forward quickly he uncovered the mangled body of a plump wether, only the soft parts eaten. A coyote again! The coyote, probably. Confound him, any- way. At Phil's "Whoo-ee!" Chet came, alert for what- ever might have happened now. " Look at that," bade Phil, touching with his toe. Chet exclaimed disgustedly. And it was enough to make anybody both indignant and disgusted — this fine sheep done to death, and wasted. " It's that same coyote, I bet you," asserted Chet. " He must have got this sheep while we were talking and walking, all around here." He felt. " It's warm yet. Now, wasn't that nerve ? " " As like as not he was hiding here, and we drove the sheep down for him. He must have thought us obliging." Chet grunted. " There's four more dollars gone," he complained. " Come on ; let's beat this place and see if he's in here yet. He ought to be killed. When you shoot don't 150 THE CIRCLE K you miss him. And don't you shoot a sheep by mistake." " Don't you, either," retorted Phil, a little nettled. He flattered himself that he was no more apt to shoot a sheep by mistake than Chet was ! But Chet intended no slur; only, he was much aroused over the nerve of the coyote. They tramped the dried swamp thoroughly, but never another token of Mr. Coyote did they see. It was easy for him to slink past them. In fact, he could lie perfectly motionless and let them walk past him; for he would be just about the color of the dead grass. With finger upon trigger of his cocked car- bine, and muscles ready to jerk the weapon to his shoulder the instant that his roving eye glimpsed a tawny shape, Phil felt like a hunter about to flush snipe, or woodcock, or tiger! However, all that was accomplished was to clear the sheep and lambs out of the forbidden territory. And by token of the sun, and the course which Gus and Kitty were taking, for tent and nooning, the two boys reluctantly granted the coyote a reprieve and they also made for the tent. Most of the sheep were lying down, to take their own siesta, so that they probably would not stray back, right away, into the danger zone. Upon hearing report of the coyote's work again Gus w^as properly annoyed. " He probably wass laying right there in that dead grass," agreed Gus. " That wass a good place for him. When the wether grazed near, he grabbed him. He iss an old fiend, now, all right. He has AGAIN AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 151 had his taste, and he will do anyt'ing to get mutton. You saw how he ate joost the soft parts? We surely ought to stop him. It iss up to you, boys. I have got no gun. You watch and some day you will get a shot." "Yes; and most days we won't," grumbled Chet. " Looking for one coyote when he has a couple of thousand sheep spread over a quarter-section of sage to choose from is heap uncertain." " One of us can hide in that swampy place," sug- gested Phil. " You can if you want to. But I'm going to take the sheep out of dere, after dinner. It iss not a place for sheep." CHAPTER XII THE SCOURGER OF THE FLOCK Accordingly, after dinner they drove the reluctant sheep from the low sage and the swamp to the approximately higher ground, where the brush merged into scrub-oak and aspen. This was a pleasan- ter region — much like that region across from it, where the sheep had been as mentioned, two or three days before. " If you like to get that coyote," had advised Gus, " one of you ought to go in that timber early and joost sit dere. He will come out about sundown, ready for more mutton. Now he iss sleeping some- where in the shade. He may have a hole. You get somewhere and stay. If you don't, you won't see him while you have a gun." " Phil can go and sit, first. I'll herd," said Chet. " I'll watch that swamp place, too. I can sit near that, and he may come there." This was Chet's flank, anyway, so Phil accepted the aspen and oak territory. Gus, as usual, was in be- tween. And sooth to say, Chet had the more work, for the sheep were bound to drift for the swampy place. Among the slim white-trunked aspens and the shrubby oaks was the best place of all. The shade 153 THE SCOURGER OF THE FLOCK 153 and the sun mingled upon the ground ; tall flowers had up-sprung; and the scent of leafy mould mingled with that of oak and sage. The sheep were sifting through, from the open country, seeking the shade and the de- lightful browsing upon twigs, for sheep are always afraid of the new and yet always questing it. It struck Phil, noting the incomers, that they would rather reach high and grab down one spray of un- known weed, than take the juiciest grass about their hoofs. There was nothing for him to do; there was nothing for anyone to do, yet, before sunset. He chuckled as he thought of Chet, who must guard the dead swamp, but from the quiet which reigned, broken by only an occasional blat, he judged that both Chet and Gus were taking things easy. So he wandered along, among the sparse trees, his eyes ready to select some spot overlooking a likely byway for the coyote. What he had in mind was a spot, screened by tree or bush, commanding an open tract which the coyote would be apt to cross. On the farther side the strip of timber contained cedars and a few pifions, and these in turn ceased at the border of a shallow draw, or flat, where in the spring water would collect, but where now was a mere trace of ooze in the middle, and blotches of alkali to mark the edge. No trees or brush grew within one hundred feet of this edge. This struck Phil as a good post for him. The upper part of the basin narrowed and extended on between two cedared, rocky hills, to make a little gulch. And up in this gulch the coyote ought to have 154 .THE CIRCLE K his home. Whether he did or not nobody could tell, for a coyote is independent, and as Chet had remarked, to look for one coyote in a quarter-section of sheep is uncertain work. A lively odor assailed Phil's nostrils ; and following it gingerly, back from the edge of the basin he came upon the mummifying and decaying carcass of a lamb. It was hard to tell whether this was another coyote victim; maybe it had died naturally. But there were coyote tracks leading around it — imprints in sand and mud and dust like the imprints of a small-footed dog. Phil went back into the cedars, and carefully settled behind a crooked trunk against which were growing purple-flowered weeds. By sitting flat and leaning his elbow upon the crooked trunk he was quite comfort- able. He had a clear view of the basin, of both edges and of the lower end. The scent of the decaying Iamb was pretty bad, but he had an idea that a coyote would smell the scent and would not smell him. Per- haps the coyote, after his siesta up in the little gulch, would pause here for a drink out of one of the cuppy spots where the water still oozed, and for a nice smell to sharpen his appetite, and he, Phil, from am- bush would pop him. Phil sat long almost motionless. Occasionally he must straighten a leg, or shift an elbow, but he did so cautiously; for there was no knowing where the coyote might be. In this pleasant weather he would need no den, and would lie and sleep and digest where- ever he fancied. He might be up in the little gulch, or he might be a mile away, or he might be in some THE SCOURGER OF THE FLOCK 155 hollow among these very aspens and oaks, or out in the thick brush. So sighting him was but a mere chance. However, Phil found the vigil not at all wearisome. The air was perfectly still, not a breath of a breeze stirred it. The fitful baaing of the sheep sounded musically. A magpie croaked with a voice not unlike a jay's. So quiet and obscure was Phil, his carbine across his knees, that under his feet a wood-mouse rustled, burrowing fearfully about for seeds. A gray-blue pine-squirrel ran down a cedar, from somewhere, and scampered across the ground, to shin another tree, and sit and chatter. He saw Phil, which was provoking. But who can fool a squirrel? Finally he went about his business of ransacking the boughs for cones. A sudden silence fell upon the tim- ber, and presently a great hawk with tail gray and under wings white sailed through. Phil could see his yellow eyes bent downward, searching; he hovered low over the basin, and proceeded on, across, to dis- appear. Even the wood-mouse had known about him, and he got nothing. Now a chipmunk, striped with black and yellow, scurried along the very trunk upon which Phil's arm was resting, and the little patch of woodland resumed its life again. As the sheep penetrated further and further, in their greedy, persistent straying, their mut- terings and munchings sounded closer. Phil could descry their van, among the brush and trunks. Soon they would be leaking through to this side. A fat ewe, edging on and cropping busily as if afraid that she might be asked to share her morsels, edged nearer 6 THE CIRCLE K and nearer to Phil, who watched curiously, to see how long it would be before she was aware of him. Facing him, in the middle of a mouthful slie suddenly glimpsed him. She stared, startled, her funny sheep jaws moving rapidly as she chewed. With an alarmed little baa she wheeled and went trotting off, occasion- ally looking back, as if she had been caught at some forbidden act. Phil silently laughed. But other sheep continued to come on; the timber patch was filled with them, old and young, chattering and eating. By their haste anybody would have known that the close of the day was at hand. Moreover, the sun was again low, his beams slanting diagonally athwart the oozy basin and searching the trees. From toward the gulch a querulous and plaintive murmur drifted down; to Phil, listening for every alien sound, it seemed to be kitten voices, and he thought of bob-cats, but soon decided that it was only a family of speckled wood- peckers at supper. Lower sank the sun. The air was balmy and gol- den, with just a suspicion of a chill, heralding the evening and the night. It was time that the sheep were being herded to the bedding-ground, and by the increasing uproar, distant in the sage outside the woodland, Gus and Chet were commencing the even- ing drive. Now the vigil was becoming irksome. Phil eyed keenly the basin, in the direction of the little gulch, for sight of a lithe yellowish form emerging upon a foray. But he made out nothing at all. The basin remained devoid of moving life, and desolate. He would stay until the sun had set, which now would THE SCOURGER OF THE FLOCK 157 not be long, for the hill across from him would swallow it early. The basin and timber would be darkling while yet the open and the sage were flooded with light. He carefully raised his carbine and aimed out over the basin, to be certain that he could see his sights. A few minutes more, and he must arise and drive out the sheep, to join the herd for the bedding- ground. At this instant he heard a sharp report. It was Chet's rifle. The sheep and he, poised, listened eagerly together. Utter silence followed the shot, which seemed to man and beast alike an omen of danger. The coyote! Chet must have seen the coyote! He hoped that Chet had got him, did Phil. Of course, he would prefer getting him, himself — ^but anything to rid the range of the cruel destroyer. The shot probably had spoiled his chances, and he stood, relieved. The sheep were cropping as fast as they could, again; but he waited, for a last look ere stepping out and confronting them to drive them from their coverts. And he saw the coyote! It came trotting swiftly from the lower end of the basin. Its bushy tail was drooped, and its pricked- eared head was held in line, and it moved in business- like, disturbed fashion as if routed from one quarter and making for another and shelter. It occurred to Phil that Chet must have shot at him and missed. Phil impulsively raised his carbine, scarcely venturing to move except to twist slowly so as to bring his shoulder around. The coyote was a hundred and fifty yards away, and the chance of hitting him on the trot 158 THE CIRCLE K at this distance and in this poor hght was slim. But the little carbine would do its best. Even as Phil dropped his cheek to the stock, and held his breath, for steady aim, the coyote stopped short, and sank to his belly on the dead turf. He had sighted or had scented the sheep. A small bunch had sidled to the edge of the trees, and were feeding there — ^gobbling so that they had ears nor nose nor eyes for anything but supper. The coyote was almost in- distinguishable. 'Twas wonderful how he had merged with the ground. He was oblivious to danger behind him, oblivious to the shot which had sent him forth; he saw mutton. His ears pricked and flattened again ; Phil could fairly see the saliva dribble from his jaws as he began a stealthy slinking, nearer and nearer to the cover of the trees which would afford him his stalking ground. The shot must be made now or never. But what a thirsty, bold beast this was, to halt right in the midst of flight and essay another attack! Phil again drew breath, and tried to take very fine, steady aim. The carbine was sighted for the point-blank, or one hun- dred yards. Phil bethought to draw bead just a frac- tion high. He held his breath to the last moment — and pulled the trigger. The coyote was but a blur, as he did so. The sharp report, the slight recoil, and the great leap of the coyote occurred at the same instant. Phil stared exultant; where had been the blur was now a confused, whirling, sprawling mass of dingy yellow. In one direction ran the sheep, baaing affrightedly. THE SCOURGER OF THE FLOCK 159 Throwing in a second cartridge as he went, in the other direction ran Phil. He paused, took quick aim, and shot again. The confusedly leaping and sprawl- ing mass sank, and remained stationary. Phil ap- proached, reconnoitering, carbine again ready. The coyote lay, kicking. Shot through and through, once by way of the fore shoulders and once diagonally along the back, mangled as he was, as Phil drew near he lifted his head and snarled. Then his head dropped, his fierce yellow eyes dulled and glazed, he gasped and was dead. Breathless, Phil gazed down like a conqueror upon him. This must have been the " old fiend." Now the scourge of the lambing range was gone. He might have successors, but he himself would sneak and slay no more. Phil tentatively touched him with a foot. Yes, he must have been the " old fiend ; " proof of his guilt, in the shape of dried blood, was upon his jaws. Yet as Phil stood, surveying the lax, stretched and mangled body and the grinning snout from which the lips had retracted in a last snarl, he felt a little wave of pity. The coyote had but pursued his instinct. However, there were the defenseless, silly sheep to think of. It was death to the sheep or death to the coyote, and bold to the last the wild thing had died defiantly. "Did you get him?" Twas Chet's eager voice, as he now came plunging and running, his face red, his eyes round. " Sure I did," responded Phil. " See him? " "Oh, jiminy!" Chet too surveyed, panting. His i6o THE CIRCLE K exclamation was partly chagrin and partly satisfac- tion. " That's the same one. Look at the blood on his chops? I missed him. Did you hear me shoot?" " Yes. I thought it was you. Where was he ? '* " Right in that dried swamp. I jumped him. He was laying for more sheep. But I didn't get a good chance. It's shore him, though. Gus will be glad. What was he doing? " " Making off, across here. Then he saw these other sheep, and stopped and sneaked for them." " He ran right through the whole bunch. I hoped you'd sight him. Where were you? " " Over there, in those cedars." " Did you hit him both times? " " Yes. I shot the second time to make sure of him." " That's pretty good, anyway," approved Chet. " Those thirty-thirties make an awful hole, don't they!" " I should say. But he wasn't dead. He snarled at me." " A coyote shore takes a lot of killing," observed Chet, sagely. " Phew ! I smell something else dead." '* That's a dead lamb, over where I was. I stayed near it, so the coyote wouldn't smell me/* " There's some class to you as a hunter, isn't there ! " bantered Chet. " I've got to go back and help Gus. What are you going to do? Leave it here?" " I'll take it out far enough to show Gus." THE SCOURGER OF THE FLOCK i6i ** All right. But I reckon he's seen lots of 'em. I've got to go." And away hustled Chet. Phil gingerly picked up the bleeding coyote by the tail, and half carrying him, half dragging him, with the carbine in the other hand, started in to drive out the sheep for the open and the main band. He had no difficulty, this time. The sight and the taint of that carcass sent the sheep scurrying frantically for safety among their fellows, and ranging through the aspens he soon had the field cleared of woolly people. When he emerged, himself, he shouted at Gus, below in the sage, and gleefully held up the carcass. Gus obliqued over, and met him. Phil tossed the carcass down before him. The herder grunted. " Got him, all right, didn't you," he remarked. His face was sober, as ever ; even the sight of the old fiend now made harmless did not cause him to smile; but he kicked the mass, and his eyes snapped. *' You devil," he addressed. '' You get no more of my sheep. You started in right off to live on mutton all summer, but now you are fooled." " I had to shoot him twice," volunteered Phil. *' I shoot dem once, joost once, t' rough the stomach, and then I stand and watch dem twist end for end. They die, but it takes dem a long while," observed Gus, viciously. " You shoot dem that way, next time, and have fun." He kicked the carcass again, and turned away. How he hated the coyote! He had reason to; but Phil could not share the hatred. The coyote's instincts were for mutton, as the cat's are for birds and mice; i62 THE CIRCLE K and when it came to shooting the animal to make him suffer as much as possible, Phil shrank. The cow range and the sheep range, the timber and the brush, have enough of suffering without wantonly inflicting more. Kitty, too, investigated the carcass. Inch by inch she approached, lips curling, bristles rising, eyes glaring, until she could smell of it. Then, with a low growl, she backed away from it. And trotting at Gus' heels, she followed him as he strode to his post behind the sheep. Leaving the carcass lying, in the sage at the edge of the aspens, Phil joined in the drive. Jostling, grabbing, halting, baaing, as usual, the band of sheep flowed on, evidently with never a thought of their late arch enemy crumpled and bloody and ghastly, despised by man and dog, food now for the buzzards and the flies and the worms. His hunt- ings were over forever. CHAPTER XIII [A COMEDY AND A TRAGEDY A WEEK had passed, and now, about an hour after sunrise, the two boys were watching Gus putting coal- oil upon a wounded lamb. This was one of the twins. They had been released from, the hobble, and it was amusing to see how each would run and get the other when hungry and wanting to drink. If the other was lying down, then the hungry baby would butt him and paw him and insist that he rise and come along; for the mother ewe would not give milk to either alone. They must both be there. The baby in Gus* hands had been hurt, somehow, while dragged about by his sister through the brush, and the wound had festered until upon his flank was a sore almost covering it and already swarming with maggots. With rare tenderness Gus was holding him between knees, and was pouring into the sore coal-oil from an old tin-can. The coal-oil was part of the lan- tern supply. " That will fix it," crooned Gus. " Dere, little fel- low. Dey don't like their dose, do dey? See dem coome out. Coal-oil and maggots don't mix." Up through the saturated wool and flesh the pests came squirming and twisting, to drop to the ground as soon as they could get free. 163 i64 THE CIRCLE K " It must sting, though," remarked Phil ; and Chet murmured assent. But the lamb made not a move- ment ; except, when Gus released him, he went off with sundry kicks and curvets, token of his unusual sensa- tion behind. ** That beats dad's hawss liniment," grinned Chet. " Remember how he put some on his shoulder, after the man with the limp had shot him, and he had to run all over the yard to keep from yelling? " Phil remembered. That was during his early ex- periences on the Bar B ranch. " You can't beat coal-oil to dose an open wound like that with," said Gus. " Once iss enough for those flies' eggs. Only, you can't use it on a lamb when he is very young, or his mother won't take him back." " Doesn't she like the smell? " " She doesn't know him. For the first few days a ewe goes by smell, and if the lamb does not smell right, she butts him away. After she get to know his voice, den you can dose him any way you like." "A cow can tell her calf any time after he's born, no matter how he smells," promptly asserted Ghet — champion of the cattle range. " Sure she can," agreed Phil. " She knows his voice right away." " Well, the more you stay around sheep, the more peculiar they get," observed Gus. " And the less sense they show when you want dem to show any" From the tent where she now was tied during these days when the lambs were coming thick and fast, and all the band was nervous and skittish with the care A COMEDY AND A TRAGEDY 165 of the youngsters, Kitty was barking in challenge. A horseman was riding past her, and approaching where stood Gus and the boys. It was Haney the Texan. From under his broad hat and red thatch of hair he grinned. " Howdy," he greeted. " Thought we'd laike to borrow Smith- Jones a minute. Terrible animal done et up a sheep on us, hide an' bones an' all. I'm scaired, an' so is Hombre. Bettuh come ovuh, Smith-Jones, an' kill him foh us, 'foh he knows you're in the country an' lights out." "What is it?" queried Gus. " Dunno, me," answered Haney, calmly. *' Ain't any ol' coyote. Ain't any bear. Ain't any lion. Hombre, he's got a name foh him. I'm too scaired to name him. I'm ridin' to taown, to tell moh people about him." It was hard to guess how much of Haney's tale was earnest and how much nonsense. It was true that he was riding in to town — but that he was after more help was a joke. To pretend fear was one of Haney's favorite amusements. " Yes, suh ; pity the pore sheep-herder, out all alone in his tent among the wild beasts," commented Haney. " Bettuh go right ovuh, Smith- Jones. Hombre's wait- in' foh you." " Somet'ing did that with me up in Wyoming, two years ago," said Gus ; " and we never did find out what it wass." "Let's go over; shall we?" urged Chet, eagerly. " Co ahead," bade Gus, " Might as well ride on i66 THE CIRCLE K to the cabin and tell the camp-tender we're out of sugar and baking powder." So gladly they caught Pepper and Medicine Eye, who grazed below the tent hour after hour and had little to do. Rifle and carbine under leg, the boys galloped off. Phil drew a long breath. "It feels good to be in the saddle, again, doesn't it ! " he said. " It shore does," agreed Chet. And with a shrill cow-puncher yelp he pricked with the spurs and was away at a tearing run. Phil, echoing the whoop, kept pace. After their breather they pulled down and could proceed more soberly. The camp of Haney and Hombre was located about a mile and a half to the southeast ; across the brush, up a ridge, across a wide flat, into a rocky gulch and out again down into a wide draw or shallow valley, on the opposite slope of which began a tract of dense timber, rising to mountain height beyond. It was a wilder site than the site of the boys' and Gus' camp. As the boys neared, the baaing of sheep floated up to greet them. " There's the tent," spoke Chet, pointing where the gleam of canvas, struck by the sun, made a white spot amidst the sage down toward the bottom of the valley. They rode for it, recklessly trotting and glorying in even the jar which comes from such a gait down-hill. " There's Hombre, too," added Phil. " He's doing something on the bedding-ground, to a lamb." Hombre was at the edge of the bedding-ground. As the boys rode to him he had just tied a little lamb's A COMEDY AND A TRAGEDY 167 feet together and was laying it down. He looked up and flashed his sunny smile. '' Buenas dias, Hombre," they greeted. " Bueno, btieno," he answered. " You come fore 'nother carcajou, hey? He keel one wether an' eat her all up excep' hoofs. Haney tell you? " " Yes," answered Chet. " What you doing, Hombre?" '' Goin' to put jacket on dees little bum, an' fool that mammy. She t'ink eet her own lamb. He dead. You see ? She been standin' right there all mornin', waitin' for heem to get up. But heem never get up again, I guess. I t'ink she lay on heem during night an' smash breath out of heem." On the bedding-ground a ewe was standing, alone, over the body of her lamb. Occasionally she smelled of it, and nuzzled it; then she would lift her head and plaintively baa, gazing about as if asking for some one to come and tell her what might be the matter. "If no one drive her off she stay there all day; stay till maybe she starve," said Hombre. ** But now we fool her." "How?" queried Phil. " You drive her off a little way, an' hold her, an' I show you," answered Hombre. The boys dismounted, and drove the unwilling ewe (who dodged and balked persistently) from her place. Hombre went quickly to the dead lamb, and ripping it down the stomach with his pocket-knife deftly re- moved the skin entire, from neck to hoofs ; yes, even the tail. 1 68 THE CIRCLE K " Now I give you nice overcoat," he said, to the trussed lamb, lying v^here he had put it. And raising it, sure enough he did, slipping the limp hide upon the back of the scrawny bum, and tying it there with a cord run around the neck and under the stomach. " There," quoth Hombre, much satisfied, cutting the hobbles from the bum's feet. " You got no mammy, she got no baby. Maybe I mek a trade for you." He threw the skinned carcass into the brush, and put the bum on the spot where the carcass had been. " She can come back now," he called. " You watch. You see somet'ing funny." The boys saw something funny already. The bum — poor, half famished creature — was miserably thin and tottering. He must have been deserted practically at birth. His head and eyes were big, his body small. The pelt fastened upon him gave him eight legs and two tails. Four legs touched the ground, and he of course stood on them; the other four dangled, one at each corner of him. One tail was extended, feebly; the other hung straight down. He straddled, trem- bling, frightened; he baaed faintly. At the baa, the ewe, released from the durance which had kept her away, came trotting. She paused, she stared, she advanced a few steps, and the pitiable little bum, in his eyes and voice hope that he w^as to be granted a sup or two (all ewes looked alike to him, the outcast) tottered to meet her. Suspiciously she smelled of him; he nuzzled frantically, his only thought to get a drink before he was again butted away. A COMEDY AND A TRAGEDY 169 The ewe bleated hesitantly, inquiringly. She was not entirely assured. This was wonderful to her — her baby had been flat and unresponsive, and now, suddenly here he was, on his feet, appearing odd but smelling naturally, and ready for breakfast. The boys pealed with laughter; the ewe gazed back at them reproachfully, as if wondering whether they were laughing at her, and why? Hombre was delighted. '' Bueno ! " he said. " She tek him. We lose one lamb, but we save 'nother. Pretty soon she get to know hees voice, den I tek off pelt, 'fore it get rotten. It dry on heem an' he stick fast. Have to skin dead lambs soon, or pelt too cold an' no good. There, little feller. I guess you bust yourself drinkin'. We let heem drink an' den she tek him off into brush. She t'ink her baby come back an' he t'ink he got a mammy, so they stay together, now on. Ain't that good scheme, hey? " " It shore is, Hombre," complimented both boys. " Have to do it 'fore lambs get very old," explained Hombre, still much pleased over the success of his experiment. " 'Fore mammy ewe knows her baby's voice. If she had learned hees voice, den she won't be fooled. Can give baby lamb other lamb's smell, but can't give him other lamb's voice. That mammy get to know her little bum's voice soon." " Now where's the place the wether was killed, and eaten up ? " asked Phil. "You see over there?" and Hombre pointed. " You see one dead pine, on edge of timber? You go I70 THE CIRCLE K straight in behind that, little way, an' you come to bloody spot an' four hoofs. That what left of big wether." " How do you know it was a wether? " demanded Phil, as he and Chet mounted. " Look like wether hoofs," responded Hombre, simply. " An' I miss one big wether rascal, so I guess it he. I tell him once if he go in that timber place something get him, an' somet'ing did." "What was it?" Hombre shook his head solemnly. " Quien sabe (who knows) ? " he answered. " Bad t'ing — carcajou, I t'ink. No bear. He eat part an' leave rest; mebbe drag it little way. Not cougar. He eat part, too — mebbe tek it off an' cover it till 'nother time. Not wolf. He leave bones, anyhow. Some- t'ing else. I scared ; Haney scared, too. Sheep scared. Dey no want to go near, any more. Speerit t'ing, I t'ink; bad speerit." "Come on," quoth Chet; and he and Phil rather skeptically rode over. They reached the dead pine, and proceeded on a straight line behind it. Both pines and cedars grew here thickly, their branches extending from close to the ground, so that the depths of the timber had an atmosphere of gloom and quiet beyond the ordi- nary. " I see the place," said Chet, obliquing slightly. It was about fifty yards from the edge of the sunny sage, and between two shaggy cedars. As Hombre had said, four hoofs were left, and the sod was A COMEDY AND A TRAGEDY 171 bloody; but fragments of woolly hide also were scat- tered about, and a few splinters of bones. Aside from these, there was no refuse. Whatever had seized the sheep had evidently devoured it all, on the spot ! "Aw, jiminy!" commented Chet. "I don't see what could eat the big bones. Even a bear wouldn't do that." The two boys glanced about apprehensively, search- ing the dark-green recesses. Not a sound, except the baaing of Hombre's sheep far across the sage, could be heard. Branch and twig were motionless. Peace — or a great fear — brooded over the timber. *' And I don't see any tracks, except where the sheep kicked," said Phil. "Look! Pepper's afraid!" For Pepper, beginning to graze, with lines down, skirting the spot drew back with a snort of alarm. " It's the blood," asserted Chet. And probably it was. But the action was ominous. They dismounted, and observed the ground closer. " Somebody else has been here, on a hawss," in- formed Phil, sagely, from back further in the timber, where he was searching. Chet went over. " And here's more blood," Phil added. There certainly were horse tracks — and blood stains ; yes, and the prints of a booted foot. But they did not enter from the direction of the sheep camp; they seemed to have come in from the other direction. 172 THE CIRCLE K However, as the two boys, now upon their horses, riding leisurely in a final circle emerged at the edge again of the trees which held a grewsome secret, they simultaneously exclaimed ; and Phil added : *' What's the matter now, I wonder.'* CHAPTER XIV BAD NEWS FROM THE BOX For diagonally down the opposite slope, spurring through the sage and taking about the course which they themselves had taken when they arrived from the other camp, galloped a horseman. His pace, his seat as he rode with loose rein, even down hill, and let the horse go, his forward-leaning attitude with one hand on the saddle-horn — everything betokened haste and desperation. "Who is it? " demanded Phil. " I don't know. He's not any of us. He's from some other camp," answered Chet. " Come on." And together they also raced, at a free gallop, for the Hombre and Haney tent. In the brush, a short distance from it, Hombre was standing, waiting. The lone rider and the two boys reached him at the same moment The stranger was a young man of twenty-eight or thirty, in checked blouse, old corduroys and broad- brimmed leather-banded hat. He sat his horse (a woful buckskin) loosely, and while he was large- framed and broad-shouldered he was also very spare and was flat-chested. As he drew near his lips were hard set, his brown eyes were curiously glassy as from fatigue and excitement combined, and while his fair complexion was considerably browned, over each 173 174 THE CIRCLE K cheek-bone a spot of glowing crimson burned through the general tan. " Is this a Circle K camp ? " he demanded, as breathless as his horse. '' Yes." " I'm from the Box. They raided our camp last night and killed six hundred sheep." "They did!" *' Santa Maria ! " muttered Hombre. "Who was it?" "What time?" "How many?" The questions assailed him thick and fast. He coughed, long and convulsively. " Give me time, boys," he said, recovering. " As to who they were, they didn't say. How many, maybe half a dozen. What time, about two o'clock." " Santa Maria ! " Hombre kept muttering, aghast. " Was it your camp ? " asked Chet. " Mine and another chap's. We're over one band. I joined the outfit only last week." " How they keel dem? " asked Hombre. " Shoot? Club?" " Both. Mostly club, by the sound and looks. Ugh ! " He closed his eyes, sickly, and reeled in the saddle. " I never want to be in a fracas like that again. Where are your other camps. I'm spreading the word." " There's another across the ridge, south," said Chet. " Did you strike a camp above here, where there's a herder named Gus ? " BAD NEWS FROM THE BOX 175 " Struck a camp. Swede herder. Don't know his name. Didn't stop to ask. Straight over that ridge, south, is it — the next one ? " He coughed violently again, clutching the horn of his saddle; but he lifted his horse's head, preparatory to starting on. " You stay here," invited Hombre, sympathetically. '* You stay an' have one cup coffee. Boys, dey ride on an' tell other camps. But the young man shook his head. All exhausted that he was, and ill besides, he was determined. *' Gratias, senor," he answered ; and with a laugH added, to Hombre's astonishment at hearing the words. "I sabe some Mexicano, myself. No, thanks; I'm only a trifle tired, and I'll see this thing through. But I'd be glad to have the boys ride with me, if they want to. We might save time by it." " Come on, then," said Chet, as customary with him. " We'll shore do it." " We shore will," echoed Phil. Leaving Hombre standing, dazed and aghast with the news from the other side of the range, they all galloped away, for the camp of Ford and Luis the Calif ornian. "Didn't you people do any shooting?" queried Chet, of the Box herder. The young man was riding with an effort, as if he felt the jar of the saddle through every muscle — rid- ing doggedly and uncomfortably, as tired men ride, and the spots of color upon his cheek bones were more brilliant, or else his face was paler. 176 THE CIRCLE K " Nothing to shoot with. No, all we could do was to take to the brush. The boss heard, and came over at a run from his camp, and he did some shooting, but he was too late. He thinks he hit one. But, oh boys ! I wouldn't hear those sheep and lambs slaughtered that way again for ten thousand dollars. It was awful.'* He coughed and coughed, doubling in the saddle. " They killed six hundred, and a lot more will die." " You're out here for your health, I reckon, aren't you ? " queried Chet, shrewdly. " Yes, I'm a lunger," promptly admitted the young man. "What are you two doing? Herding, too?" " Yes," answered Phil. " Maybe you ought not to ride so fast," proffered Chet. " We'll slacken up any time you say so. It's only three miles across to the next camp." " I'll ride as fast as you do," replied the man grimly. " I've got one good lung, and that's enough where there's so much air." He was plucky, was this high-colored, broad-shoul- dered, caved-in chap, who rode wearily but rode stub- bornly; and not to affront him or shame his spirit they tried not to notice his plight. At gallop, trot, and occasional walk, they three hastened through the sage, to spread the news of the attack on the Black Mesa sheep range. The camp of Ford and Luis was right in the midst of a broad flat of sage and grease- wood, with a streak of lighter green through the middle, showing where a boggy spring went trickling on. The sheep w^ere feed- BAD NEWS FROM THE BOX 177 ing a half mile below the tent, and as the tent flaps were open somebody evidently was at home there. It was Ford. At the sound of the horses' hoofs he peered out, and standing in the doorway he waited. Phil waved; he w^aved back. " Come in,'*' greeted Ford, heartily, as they drew up. " I was just cooking dinner." He glanced sharply at the stranger, and his eyes opened in astonishment. He stepped forward impulsively. " That looks like a man I know," he said. " If it isn't Billy Adams I'll eat my hat ! In the name of the great Eli, Billy, what are you doing out here?" He reached up ; they shook hands hard. " Same thing you are. Dexter. Following sheep around," answered the stranger. " I didn't know you were with sheep. Thought you were punching cattle somewhere." " So I was, Billy. But I'm punching sheep now. Get down and come in, all of you. I'm the boss cook, too. I can cook a spud till it's hot. Why, Billy, I haven't seen you since I played opposite you in the line and you smeared mud all over my face. What sent you out here, anyway? Love of sheep? " " No," replied Mr. Adams, laconically. He choked and coughed. '* Bum lungs. Hear 'em?" " He's with the Box outfit, and was raided last night," informed Chet, excitedly. " Killed six hundred sheep, he says, and more will die," added Phil. " That so, Billy ? " demanded Ford, suddenly grave. 178 THE CIRCLE K Mr. Adams nodded, as gravely. " That's so," he assured. " We're doing a Paul Revere ride, to spread the news." " Where are you going from here? " " On to the next camp; isn't it? " and he looked at the boys. " That's the cabin," said Ford, quickly. " But look here, Billy. You needn't ride all that distance. You were up half the night, too, weren't you ? " Mr. Adams smiled oddly. " Sleep was just a little broken, while they were killing the sheep, Deck," he said. " You let the boys ride on, and you stay here. There's nothing beyond the cabin. They can say what there is to say and can come back this way. Mr. Adams and I played football against each other," he explained, politely, to Phil and Chet. " He played for Yale the last year I was with Harvard." And He turned to Mr. Adams again, eyeing him quizzically, yet anxiously. " You didn't have any bum lung then, Billy, as I remember. You nearly gave me two or three, though.'* " Well, I've got one here I'll give away," croaked " Billy." " I've peddled it all over New Mexico and Arizona, and now I'm trying to leave it with the sheep." " You'll stay with me, won't you ? " " Can't, Deck. I'll take a cup of coffee, though. Haven't had breakfast yet." " Sure. Get down and come in. It's ready, I think." BAD NEWS FROM THE BOX 179 " Bring a cup of it out, Deck," pleaded Mr. Adams. " This horse is too high to cHmb again." Ford brought out a tin cup of steaming coffee. " Want some, boys ? " he asked. But Chet shook his head. *' We can get some at the cabin." Mr. Adams finished his draught with a big sigh of pleasure, and handed down the cup. " That will hold me together, all right," he said. " Go ahead, boys ; I'm with you. See you later, old man. We'll discuss blackfaces and Shropshires and lambs and other woolly topics." Ford laughed, and nodded. When Phil glanced back, he had gone into the tent again, to resume his dinner-getting. "He was a Harvard star; played end," remarked Mr. Adams. " That's queer — our meeting out on the sheep range. But it's a small world." In response to Chet's and Phil's gesture Luis the Californian, standing motionless and observant, with crimson shirt and peaked hat and staff, his dog beside him, waved to them briefly as they cantered past. From the flat they dipped into a deep gulch, traversed for a little way its bottom, through which rushed a foaming, leaping stream bordered with willows, and striking a trail crossed by means of a pole and dirt burro bridge, low but substantial. The trail skirted the willows for a considerable dis- tance, before climbing the hills which lay beyond. Chet was in the lead, Phil followed, and Mr. Adams brought up the rear, as in single file they threaded th^ i8o THE CIRCLE K path, between the willows on the left and the thinly growing pines and bushes on the right. The dashing current made too much noise for conversation. The trail turned; Chet's horse pricked his ears, and suddenly Chet was face to face with another rider. The horse's noses almost touched before rein could be drawn. With a muttered oath the other rider instantly swerved his mount and spurred it with a bound into the brush. He was the man with the limp ! He was leading a second horse, saddled and bridled — the sad- dle messily daubed with a dark stain. " Here, you ! " Chet exclaimed. His voice rose shrill. "Stop that man, somebody!" he cried; for bolting on recklessly the man with the limp had forged past Phil also, as if bent upon escape. Just why he should be stopped, Phil did not know. And, anyway, he was too far along, now, to be headed off, except by Mr. Adams. The horses, urged into the branches at a tangent with the trail, recoiled and would have turned back. Asking not a question Mr. Adams unhesitatingly flung himself sideways, and half leaving his own saddle, like a football tackier grappled the man with the limp around the waist. It was a plucky and daring thing to do; for the man with the limp, swearing fiercely, with a dig of the spurs forcing his horse onward jerked loose roughly from the grasp, went crashing off, led horse and all, through the timber, and poor Mr. Adams plunged to the ground. Chet and Phil wheeled their mounts. "MR. ADAMS GRAPPLED THE MAN WITH THE LIMP. BAD NEWS FROM THE BOX i8i "Hurt?" they both asked, alarmed. " No. But he got away from me," panted Mr. Adams, scrambHng up. " Who was he ? What did you want of him? " " I didn't want him. It was Chet who said to stop him/' defended Phil. " I had a hunch, is all," confessed Chet, "Why?" Qiet shook his head. " Don't know — but I had a hunch that we ought to stop him. Something told me so." " Do you know him ? " asked Mr. Adams. " Whoa. Lucky this buckskin didn't run." " Yes, we know him," answered Chet. " He's a rustler and kidnapper and murderer, and everything else. He's always making trouble. Wonder what he was doing with that led hawss." " Stop him whenever you see him, on general prin- ciples, eh ? " queried Mr. Adams. He climbed aboard his horse, and winced. " Ouch ! Must have skinned my shin when I fell." " You shorely didn't wait to ask questions," vouch- safed Chet, admiringly. " When I yelled, you jumped." " Well, there wasn't much time to argue in," com- mented Mr. Adams, with a smile on his face so white and red. " What'll we do — give him a chase ? " " Naw," said Chet. " Let him go. We don't want him, after all." "Another hunch, what?" demanded Mr. Adams, panting from his climb into the saddle and from his i82 THE . CIRCLE K previous exertion. " When we see him again we'll tell him that it was all a mistake and that the wires were crossed." Chet flushed, and answered sturdily: " When we see him again we'll want him worse than ever." And Chet spoke truth. They resumed the trail. It branched; and piloted by Chet, taking the right-hand fork, which left the creek, they wound up the slope of a timbered hill where red spruces grew low and thick. " He was riding the other fork, along the creek," called back Chet — referring to the man with the limp. For no fresh hoof-marks dinted the mold of this bridle-path. They topped the hill, and rounding over, were in sight of the head-quarters cabin, located in the sage of a flat, down below, beside that same stream which has been crossed higher up. " Somebody's there, all right," announced Chet. Smoke was issuing from the stone chimney. "Jess, I guess." The burros all were standing before the cabin, at a respectful distance, in a semicircle, nosing and nipping and waiting as if the smoke had been an in- vitation to them. But the cabin door was shut, and it did not open as the riders approached. This was odd, for Phil, at least, confidently anticipated having it swing and the wrinkled countenance of Old Jess peer out, or else the grizzled, goateed visage of the BAD NEWS FROM THE BOX 183 taller veteran Mr. Simms. But the cabin remained lifeless, safe for the slowly wafting smoke. " Nobody at home, after all, I reckon,'* said Chet, as they dismounted before the door. " We'll get dinner anyway. They must have killed a sheep this morning. See the trail where it dripped? We'll eat some of their mutton for 'em.'* In the dust before the threshold were gouts of blood, as from a fresh carcass. But this was not un- usual; Phil had grown accustomed to seeing car- casses and the traces of carcasses, in shape of pelts and blood and refuse. The sheep range was not in every way a pleasant place. Chet stepped confidently to the latch and lifting it pushed. The door yielded a few inches, and stuck; and although he put his knee to it he could not budge it further. " It's stuck," he complained. " There's something against it." CHAPTER XV THE sheepman's SHOT Phil left his horse, to help, while Mr. Adams, standing beside his, looked wearily on. Chet rapped; then he pounded. There was no re- sponse, by movement nor sound, and the door would not yield further than the mere crack. "I can get in the window," said Chet; "if it's open." The window, square and swinging inward on hinges, was in the end of the cabin. Chet stumped around, and called back: ** It's open." Phil could hear him grunt as he wriggled through. He could hear his footsteps within — and suddenly his voice called sharply: " Somebody's lying across the door ; that's what's the matter?" He panted as if dragging at a heavy object. But Phil did not wait. As Mr. Adams exclaimed behind him he hastened around to the window and jammed through. A great fear was in his heart. Tragedy had occurred. The interior was dusky. He could barely distin- guish Chet bending over and hauling, at the doorway. "Who is it?" he asked, his voice keen with anx- iety, as he sprang across to help. 184 THE SHEEPMAN'S SHOT 185 "Don't know," panted Chet. "Don't think it's dad or Jess, though." Phil felt, and grasped the clothing. The body within was lax and limp and oddly heavy. " Drag it away far enough so we can open the door and see," panted Chet. " I hope it isn't dad or Jess," he faltered, a break in his voice. " I should say so," said Phil, thickly. As together they moved the heavy body, the door was pressed back and Mr. Adams squeezed violently through. ** Who is it?" he demanded. "Somebody hurt? Dead?" Now there was more light. All together they peered over, at the face, which had turned to one side as the head rolled. Both Chet and Phil uttered the one exclamation. " The man with the one eye ! " In the exclamation was much relief. There was no mistaking that cruel face, with the sunken, empty eye-socket accentuated now by the waxy white skin surrounding it. Phil gingerly touched the face, with the back of a finger. It was cold. " Gone, isn't he ? " asked Chet. Phil nodded. " No. Get him on a bunk. Maybe he isn't," urged Mr. Adams. " Work quick, boys. Take his legs. I'll take his shoulders." As they lifted, the body doubled between them " He's dead," grunted Chet. " If he isn't he ought to be. What do you want to save him for?" 1 86 THE CIRCLE K "Who is he?" " Another regular outlaw and cattle rustler and kid- napper and murderer and everything else," declared Chet, giving the man with the one eye his character. " But we ought to save him, if we can, boys," urged Mr. Adams. " He's a fellow human-being. Lay him down gently, now. There. Open that door wide. Phew — what a hole! Shot through the back, and bullet came out the ribs." He straightened, lifted an arm and let it drop. It was leaden. " Yes, he's dead. Where did you know him ? " " He and that man we met this morning, and an- other as mean stole cattle on our range, and they had a girl they'd kidnapped," explained Chet. " And one shot dad plumb through the shoulder, out in the timber. They roped Phil, too; but we chased 'em, and killed the man with the frozen smile and got back Phil and got the girl. Didn't we, Phil ? " "And last summer we met them again, down in New Mexico, and had another fracas. They killed the bristly man, who was their pal and tried to help Cherry " "Who was Cherry?" interrupted Mr. Adams. " She's the girl. They'd stolen her from her tent during a stampede of the cattle. And we chased them." " That was when we met the Rangers and had the fight with the Indians," added Chet. " This dead man and the man with the limp got away, but we found Cherry, all right, and the sheriff and Charley the Ute trailed 'em and captured 'em. The man with the THE SHEEPMAN'S SHOT 187 limp swore against his partner, and they let him go and his partner was sent to the penitentiary, and then he escaped. And the other day this man with the limp came riding across the range where we were, and we met him again this morning." " What was the other fellow doing in this cabin, then? Whom did you expect to find here?" " Dad and Old Jess." " His father is Mr. Simms, who owns the Circle K sheep, and Old Jess is camp tender," explained Phil. " Humph," mused Mr. Adams. His cheeks were still vividly crimson, as from fever, but he seemed too interested to be weak. "Where are they, then?" " How did he get here? " prompted Phil, from the threshold. " Don't see any tracks." They laid a blanket over the face and form of the man with the one eye, and went outside to look. " Here's more blood," spoke Chet. " But maybe it's where a sheep was butchered." "Are those some of your people, coming?'* quer- ied Mr. Adams. All looked; and Chet declared instantly: " Hurrah ! It's dad and Jess, all right. They've got somebody with them. One's your boss, isn't it ? " " Shouldn't wonder." Five horsemen were riding down from the sagy slope across the stream. Phil easily recognized the tall figure of Mr. Simms, and the shorter and more stooped figure of Old Jess; he also recognized the figure of the bullet-headed, derby-hatted sheepman of i88 THE CIRCLE K the Box outfit; tHe other figures appeared as somewhat familiar, but he was not able quite to place them in his memory — until as the quintette was just about to cross the creek, on the rude bridge below the cabin, he ex- claimed : "I know! One's the sheriff." " And that's Charley Pow-wow with him," asserted Chet. And the sheriff of Blanco county it was — his square shoulders, his ruddy face, his sandy moustache, his general solidity, all unaltered. Phil recalled him as the very embodiment of quiet bravery. As with his four companions he drew up at the cabin he nodded. " Hello, boys," he said. " What's in there? " " Dead man," quoth Mr. Adams, shortly. With a muttered exclamation the sheepman vaulted from the saddle and was first into the cabin, followed by the sheriff. He strode with unusual abruptness to the bunk, and jerked off the blanket, uncovering the staring face beneath. " I got you," addressed the sheepman, vehemently. He shook his clenched fist in the waxen face. " You're the man. You come killin' my sheep, but you've paid for 'em. All I wanted was to tell you so, and you've sneaked away on me. But you've paid. Bah ! " and he flung the blanket over again. He straightened and raised his right arm high. " The wages of sin is death," he said, solemnly. " All right, Lem," soothed the sheriff. " Let him alone. He can't talk back. Come on outside, boys." Phil and Chet had crowded in together, to watch THE SHEEPMAN'S SHOT 189 and listen; the others were at the threshold. Now all collected outside, in the sunshine and the sage scent. "Where was he? Still in the bunk?" asked Mr. Simms, of Chet. He looked tired, did Mr. Simms, and so did Old Jess, " No. He was lying across the door, inside, and we had to climb in the window." "Dead?" Chet nodded. ** Yes. We put him in the bunk. How did he get in the cabin? Did you know about it, dad? Where've you been ? " "That's the fellow I shot," was saying the sheep- man, to Mr. Adams. " I've been trailing him ever since you left. Trailed him clear from camp." " All in good time," answered Mr. Simms, to Chet, smiling grimly. " We found this fellow at the edge of the timber, yonder, about all in, early this morning. Somebody's been hanging about, by the tracks, making camp and killing sheep, and when I rode out at day- break for a little reconnoitre, I came on him. Jess and I fetched him in, and put him to bed; he didn't have much blood left to bleed. Then we set out to back-track him, to see where he'd come from, and find his partner, if we could, and we met the sheriff and this other man, heading toward us. So we turned about, and I guess in our absence the fellow tried to escape by the door, and couldn't make it." Old Jess grunted. " Pity it warn't his pardner," he said, " He's the wust of the two." I90 THE CIRCLE K " We met him,'' exclaimed Phil, quickly. '' We met him and Chet wanted to stop him, but he got away. He had a led horse." "Where? This morning?" queried Mr. Simms. " Must have been his pardner's hawss." " On our way over; in the trail down by the creek." " He was in a mighty big hurry, too," declared Chet. " This man grabbed him, but he broke loose." By " this man " he indicated Mr. Adams. " And we saw where somebody had killed one of Haney's and Hombre's wethers up in the timber." The sheriff, biting off the end of a cigar, regarded him keenly. He and Mr. Simms exchanged satisfied glances. " Bueno," remarked the sheriff, scratching a match. " We'll take that trail, I reckon; hey, Charley? " Charley, the fifth member of the squad, was a dark- faced young man, with piercing black eyes, flat nose and large mouth. By these and his unmistakable swarthy skin he would readily be picked out for the Indian that he was. He was son of Chief Billy, head of the Southern Utes. Charley wore moccasins, ragged overalls sagging about his hips, a dingy calico shirt, and sombrero with a bead band. " Yes," he answered. He already had nodded at the two boys. They had met him before. A boss trailer was Charley Pow-wow — and was a Car- lisle school graduate, also. But few would guess that. " The sheriff thinks these two men have been hiding THE SHEEPMAN'S SHOT 191 out in the hills ever since the second one escaped from prison," explained Mr. Simms. " That acounts for the sheep remains, and for other things besides." " And I've accounted for one of them," growled the Box foreman. " But the five hundred dollars don't pay for six hundred sheep. I get that reward, though — don't I ? " he appealed, to the sheriff. " I can show his trail, from my camp straight to where he was picked up." " I reckon," assured the sheriff. "Aw, and he was right there by Haney^s tent!" said Chet, to Phil. " And they thought it was a carcajou. They'll be mad. He fooled 'em on purpose." " We'll have dinner outside, here," proposed Mr. Simms. ** Then we can ride over and look at that Box camp." But there were matters to be attended to inside the cabin, also. And while Old Jess busied himself at the stove, Mr. Simms and the sheriff hovered over the bunk — until, while the rest pretended not to see, they bore out an object wrapped in a quilt, to carry it off into the willows by the creek, the sheepman following with a spade. After that the air seemed clearer, Old Jess, at the stove, sang to himself in cracked voice, and the two boys chased away the funny burros. But dinner was eaten, as had been suggested, out of doors, in the sweet open. The sun was directly overhead and shining hotly down when they started: the two boys; Mr. Simms, veteran of the plains and hills, ex-cowman of the Bar 192 THE CIRCLE K B, now owner of the Circle K sheep; Old Jess Simpson, battered cow-puncher of the Texas Trail and of other days when the cattle business was in its glory, but now reduced, he, to cooking and to tending sheep camps ; Sheriff Ben, of Blanco county, who was the Law and as such arrested men without help and without drawing weapon; Charley the Ute, swarthy, silent, keen and sometimes the white man and some- times the red ; Mr. Adams, the " lunger," Yale football man and herder; and the bullet-headed, derby-hatted, fighting foreman of the Box. He was riding with the two boys. " It's this way," he explained. " Somebody set those raiders on, for hire. I don't believe none of them were cowboys. That dead man was helped to escape from the penitentiary for a purpose, so that he could do dirty work. That was the price of his escape. But he's found out there was another price — an' he's got it. Yes; I've lived a little bit every- where — north, south, east an' west; an' I tell you this, an' the sheriff there will back me up: the man who buys, pays."" *' It's the Law," spoke the sheriff. *' Nobody can beat the Law. The man who buys, pays." " An' the wages of sin is death," continued the sheepman, as solemnly as before. He spat. " Not always that death back there in the cabin — but misery just the same. When a man looses all his self-respect an' better feelings, an' he has no conscience, he is deader than if he were lying cold." *' Where did you meet up with that lame fellow ? " THE SHEEPMAN'S SHOT 193 asked the sheriff, as they rode along, down the further slope of the hill and to the creek there. " Right ahead," answered Chet. " Just beyond where the other trail comes in. He jumped off into the brush, but I guess he went on." " Here's the spot," presently informed Phil. " See the tracks?" Charley the Ute, as if apprized by Mr. Adams, al- ready had veered out; and with " I reckon we'll ride ahead, then, and follow them a ways," the sheriff spurred around the little column and trotted on, out of sight. Nor did he reappear and join the squad, for where the riders turned off to climb the other slope the tracks showed that he and Charley had continued along the creek. And that was the last seen of the sheriff by the Circle K for two months. As the party passed the camp of Ford and Luis Mr. Simms waved his arm to the former, who came after them, horseback. *' Going over ? " he asked. "Yes," said Mr. Simms, briefly; and Ford fell in. Obliquing from the camp here, they took a short cut over the hills, riding steadily, until Mr. Adams re- marked : ** Across that next ridge, and weVe there, aren't we?" Old Jess nodded. " I reckon," he said, laconically. " You can hear those ewes an' lambs bawlin' clear here," commented the Box foreman, as they topped that ridge. " Now, boys," he added, " Isn't that a 194 THE CIRCLE K pity? Ain't that a dirty shame, though? Look at 'em!" A quarter of a mile, down below could be descried a herder's tent beside a small bunch of aspens. Several men were moving about, among sheep collected ap- parently on the bedding-ground and around it. Up- floated from the scene a high, strident bleating — so singularly mournful, and agonized, and appealing, that it was like no bleating which Phil had yet en- countered. He had heard the happy, gossipy bleating of the evening drive, the querulous inquiring bleat of storm and weariness, the chattering, calling bleat of the bedding-ground, and even the frantic bleat of sud- den fright when the coyote charged ; but this plaintive, persistent, high-pitched bleating which now welled as they approached had in it a new note. " There ! " quoth the Box foreman, with sweep of hand, and reining in. " That's what was done to my sheep." The scene was piteous, heart-rending. Great piles of stained sheep carcasses, old animals and young, had been made, here and there, and upon the bloody bed- ding-ground and amidst the sage, trampled and red, of the out-skirts, were standing ewes and lambs, calling, staring, smelling, calling again, and refusing to leave. They seemed dazed. Several herders were moving among them, urging them away. One of the herders was Haney. A number of the animals had been in- jured ; they hobbled painfully on three legs, or dragged hind quarters, or showed bruised heads and gashed bodies. But the worst was the bleating of babyless THE SHEEPMAN'S SHOT 195 mother and motherless babe. Several of the lambs were new ones, and already they had sunk upon their weak little legs, calling faintly but everlastingly for nourishment. Ewes nosed them, but drew back, re- fusing to give them a drink as they frantically strug- gled to their feet again. Phil checked an exclamation; words seemed use- less, diet must have felt the same. ** That sure is tough," remarked Mr. Simms, soberly. " Phew ! Listen to those voices ! " " If every cowman in the country could see this, George, it would put an end to raidin'," said Old Jess. One of the workers paused, and wiped his brow with a bandanna handkerchief. " You're correct," he proffered. " Two wrongs don't make a right. And killin' sheep because the law doesn't keep 'em off is no way to settle the business. And the simple killin' ain't the worst. Look at those lambs. Half of them will die; they're too young to eat grass and they'll starve." He proceeded about his work. Another visitor was in sight, for obliquing down the slope to the north, his horse picking quick but careful way through the brush, approached a man, rid- ing. He was a little man, in ordinary clothes, even to collar and tie and shoes; but he sat his saddle lightly and held his bridle hand high, like a practiced horse- man. " There's the sheriff, now," said Old Jess. Everybody had stopped work, and was waiting. The new arrival was not the sheriff of Blanco county ; 196 THE CIRCLE K he was much smaller, with pudgy round face, as ex- pressionless as a doll's — tanned, however, to brick- red, from amidst which looked out a pair of light blue eyes ; and they looked out very steadily and very pene- tratingly. He pulled up, and surveyed the men and the scene. " Howdy, gentlemen," he said. " Hello, Lem. Well, they threw sheep around right careless, didn't they.'* And he continued to survey. He removed his flat-brimmed, drab hat, and scratched his nose with it, as if thoughtful. His hair was as red as Haney's, but had been clipped short, to bristles. ** Some," answered the Box foreman, crisply. The new-comer cast a leg across the horn, to sit side- saddle. " Tell me about it," he invited. *' There isn't much to tell," asserted the Box fore- man. " They rode this camp down about midnight, five or six of 'em, an' drove the herders into the brush ; nobody but they had any guns. Then they set about clubbin' an' shootin' sheep — till I heard the racket. My camp's across the ridge. / had a gun, an' I come shootin'. That was more'n they bargained for, an' out they skipped, but I got one. They clipped me through the ear — see?" And he turned to show a tear in the upper lobe of his left ear. " An' I got the man that did it. He'll never kill another sheep." The foreman's voice rose savagely. " No, he'll never kill another sheep," and he glared about him, with his small head on his long neck, as if challenging dis- pute. THE SHEEPMAN'S SHOT 197 "Who was it?" queried the sheriff. "Ask them. They know more about him than I do," directed the Box foreman. The sheriff gazed inquiringly at the Circle K group. " Well," he asked, of Mr. Simms, " what do you know about him, and where is he ? " " He's not anybody, now," replied Mr. Simms. " He zvas that one-eyed fellow who escaped from the penitentiary. He's got a history too long for telling, here — and he's out of the way at last. We found him near our central cabin early this morning, about dead from this man's shot, and before coming over here we put him under the ground to wait for the coroner." " Bueno," approved the sheriff of Rico county. He rolled a brown-paper cigarette, and lighted it. " Reckon you'll apply for that five hundred dollars, Lem?'^ " I shorely will," declared the sheepman. " But five thousand wouldn't hardly pay me for the dam- age." " Maybe not." The sheriff of Rico county glanced about. " Didn't recognize any of the rest of the gang, did you?" " These boys and Adams think they met one." " How was that? " The sheriff looked at Phil. " His name is Joe ; he's a lame man, and he and this man with the one eye were pardners." " I remember," nodded the sheriff. " Turned state's evidence at the trial." " We met him this morning when we were riding 198 THE CIRCLE K over to the cabin, and Chet yelled to stop him, but he went around us, in the brush." " What made you want to stop him ? " " I just had a hunch," said Chet, sheepishly. " But it was a right hunch, anyway. He was leading an extra hawss, saddled." " You said you had another hunch to let him go, after he got away," reminded Phil, slyly. Chet blushed, and grinned acknowledgment. " Which way did he go, then ? " persisted the sheriff. " On along Cataract Creek," informed Chet. " But the Blanco sheriff and Charley Pow-wow are after him. They took his trail, just a little while ago." " All right," declared the Rico sheriff, as if relieved. " What about the rest of the gang, Lem? " " I can show you their tracks — comin' in an' goin' out." "All right," quoth the little sheriff. He put his feet into the stirrups again. " Guess I'll follow *em a ways. Some of you'd better get word to the coroner, and let him know about that killing." " A man's gone in already," answered the Box boss. He and the little sheriff rode aside, and the sheep- man pointed out the hoof-prints of the invasion and of the consequent flight. " They'll probably scatter out before they go far," remarked the sheriff; "but I'll follow this cracked hoof, just for luck." He turned his horse, and without another word jogged away unconcernedly through the THE SHEEPMAN'S SHOT 199 brush, as if he might be going to market or to court. He was little in stature, but evidently he was capable of doing big deeds. The Circle K could not be of much assistance to the devastated Box camp, and with a " Well, boys — '' Mr. Simms lifted Monte's head, to leave. Haney ceased his friendly ministrations to the dead and wounded animals, and wiping his hands mounted his horse to ride back with his colleagues. " See you again, Billy," said Ford, to Mr. Adams, as they trotted away. " Ought to have set Smith- Jones on the trail," claimed Haney. " Nobody would stand much show with Smith- Jones aftuh him. Terrible man on the trail is Smith-Jones." " Do you think they will be caught ? " hazarded Phil, of Old Jess, ignoring the Texan's banter. " With two sheriffs an' an Injun follerin' 'em some- thing ought to happen," grunted Old Jess. " An' one of 'em a red-haided sheriff, too," observed Haney. *' Red-haided men are bad men when they get riled up. I'm red-haided myself." CHAPTER XVI A LITTLE SURPRISE PARTY The Circle K (as presumably the Box also) re- sumed the even tenor of its daily way. Gus agreed with Mr. Simms that there would not be another raid ; the sheriffs of two counties were out, and public sen- timent ought to be against the barbarous custom. " But if dose raiders are caught, any of dem, there will be not'ing done to them," asserted Gus. " Who- ever set dem on will stand back of them and protect them. You will see. They were not cowboys. They were outsiders hired to do the job, by people who want this range. That iss a great pity; but that iss often the way. Men are hired to come into Wyoming or Colorado clear from Utah or New Mexico, and pile up the sheep, and skip out as quick as they can. I t'ink dis killed man knew he would be got out of the penitentiary; but he had to pay for being got out, by killing dose sheep. And that odder man helped him." The coroner came to the cabin and the body which had been interred back of it was examined; there seemed to be no question but that the Box foreman was to get the five hundred dollars reward. This was some satisfaction — although, as the foreman had stated, the reward did not pay for the sheep, in which he had a half interest. aoo A LITTLE SURPRISE PARTY 201 And now the Black Mesa range might settle back to its long, sunny, peaceful days and its cool, starry, peaceful nights. Still were arriving the lambs, so that all the brush was filled with their high bletherings, and proud, nervous mother ewes ever were calling and fondling. The lamb crop was going to be almost one hundred per cent, claimed Gus, who appeared delighted thereby; a banner lambing season, this. The coyotes did not bother; the retribution wreaked upon the old fiend must have been published widely, and have served for warning. All that the boys and Gus needed to do was to loll in the sage and the aspens, and watch the straying of their shaggy charges; occasionally turning back the black-face ewe and the brown-legged wether. But even these two ring-leaders were less fractious than formerly, as if cowed by Phil's oft- repeated injunction: " The raiders will get you if you don't watch out." Sitting now at dinner in the tent, the boys and Gus had a visitor. Outside there was sound of hoof, and jingle of bridle; Kitty growled, and thrust her head forth, to look. Chet, who was nearest the flaps, arose and joined with Kitty to investigate. " Howdy," spoke somebody. " Howdy," Chet responded. " How's the grub pile ? Any chance for another hungry man? " " I reckon so," said Chet. *' Get down and come in." With creak of stirrup leather and thud of foot the 202 THE CIRCLE K rider dismounted, and presently followed Cliet into the tent. Phil and Gus looked at him and nodded. " How are you? " they exchanged, with him. For the guest was a slender young man, with blue eyes and tanned skin and a generally jaunty, careless air. A cow-boy, he, by his chaps and gauntlets and high-heeled, small boots, by his straight-brimmed hat and the blue 'kerchief loosely knotted about his neck. He grinned, half impudently. " Always room for one more at a sheep camp," he quoth, drawing off his gloves. " I was riding past so I thought I'd stop." " Help yourself," bade Gus, stolidly. " Mutton sure tastes good after veal for nine months," remarked the guest, as he seated himself, and began to help himself, also. It seemed rather good, to Phil, to be in a cow-puncher atmosphere again; and he momentarily wished that he too was wearing the chaps and spurs, and the gaunt- lets and the 'kerchief, riding for the old Bar B. Sheep might be a good business for making money, but life in a sheep camp w^as life afoot, whereas life in a cow- camp was life in the saddle. And chaps were superior to overalls. " Who you riding for ? " queried Chet, casually, and with small regard for grammar. " The Saddle Cross. We range over beyond, around the Blues. Haven't seen any Saddle Cross cows, have you. I'm out hunting strays." No, they hadn't seen any Saddle Cross cows, or any other cows. '' All sheep in here," informed Phil, A LITTLE SURPRISE PARTY 203 "That so?" answered the guest, as if innocently. " I hear one of you sheep outfits got piled up some the other night." " That wass the Box. They did have a little trouble," said Gus. " But it wass not cowboys. One of the men wass killed and he wass a outlaw." ** Well," commented the guest, as he mounted his horse, " this is shore cattle range, all this country; and I should think you fellers would feel mighty uneasy, after the dose that other camp got." " We will be here until we get t'rough. We are harming nobody," called Gus, after him. The rider only turned and grinned tauntingly. And without thanks for the meal (however, no thanks were expected, in this free open) spurred into a gallop and dashed away. Chet and Phil, indignant, gazed after him. His parting words had been almost a threat. " That certainly was some nerve," spoke Chet. " He stopped off just to size us up." " I t'ink he joost would Hke to frighten us. He iss only a boy," asserted Gus. " There will be no more trouble on dis sheep range dis year." Mr. Simms, riding through that afternoon, smiled grimly when he chanced to learn of the little call. " We won't lie awake over how he'd feel if he was in our shoes. I reckon he was talking cow-puncher talk. I know how it is. Those boys think it's all right to drop in and eat sheep-camp grub, and then ride off with a sassy word and no thanks. How's the feed, Gus ? " he asked, abruptly changing the subject. 204 THE CIRCLE K " It iss pretty thin. We have eat it all up." " I'll have Jess come over and move you in the morning. And Mr. Simms rode on. So, the next morning, the camp was moved; Old Jess coming over with some of his burros, packing the bedding upon the horses and the other equipage upon the jacks, and traveling down the draw, while the boys and Gus, on foot, drove the sheep. This was no easy jaunt, for the black-face and the brown-leg turned off at every chance, into the brush, tolling with them their foolish followers, and the herders and Kitty must constantly be hot after them. The new camp was established about three miles away from the old, and by that much nearer the Circle K corrals. For the time was approaching when the little lambs must lose their tails and be branded with the paint-stamp. This was the regulation next step in sheep-tending on the Western range. However, there was an interruption. Chet it was who, the second morning after the moving of the camp, issuing from the flaps in the early dawn almost ran against a placard stuck in a cleft stick planted in the ground before the very tent door. It was embellished with a flaring skull and cross- bones, rudely drawn with charcoal; and it said, in lead pencil : " The next move you make you move right out of the country, and you better move quick. This means YOU. We are after you. CATTLE. A LITTLE SURPRISE PARTY 205 " Bah ! " said Gus. " Now I know they are trying to scare us. But I am not afeared of pictures/' Chet was angry. Chet did not often blaze up, but when he did he was hard to extinguish. His tanned face flushed, his blue eyes winked violently, his mouth set like his father's. " I'm going to take this over to dad," he growled. " We'll make whoever they are laugh out of the other side of their mouth, if they get too gay. You wait." So he rode to the cabin; and arrived back again, more gleeful but still w^arlike, reported. " Lookee here," he bade, dismounting just as Gus and Phil were issuing from the tent, after nooning. " I got dad's big old Colt's. When she goes off three times they can hear her clear to the cabin, almost; Haney and Hombre can hear her, anyway, and they'll come over." He tossed the great weapon and car- tridge-studded holster into a corner of the tent. " Gus can have my rifle," he said. " If they shoot my dog den I shoot back," informed Gus, calmly. " But it iss a foolish risk to go shooting when it iss only the sheep. Dese raiders would as soon kill a herder as not, if they are given an excuse." Now that struck Phil as odd; that Gus would will- ingly dare death by storm and cold and hunger for his sheep, and yet he would not fight men for them. It was different being shot, from being frozen, evidently. The afternoon passed. Evening came, and the herding of the sheep upon the new bedding-ground. The night settled down, over tent and range. Mind- ful of the warning notice, both Chet and Phil felt in 2o6 THE CIRCLE K the air a certain menace, as if the camp was being reconnoitered by enemies all ready to pounce upon it. But Gus was as unconcerned and as phlegmatic as ever. He told a story: " T'ree years ago I wass herding for the Serro Sheep and Cattle Company, on the desert. That wass a bad winter, and I wass snowed in with t'ree t'ousand sheep for t'ree weeks. For the last ten days there wass not'ing for my sheep to eat except each odder. I must go ahead of dem, and tramp a path for dem, and that took time, for the snow wass up to my neck all around. So I would not freeze I must sleep right in with the sheep, and I must kill some and drink their blood warm so I would have strength to break a trail. When I got dem out, they looked like they had been sheared by a poor shearer, for they had eat the wool off of each other's backs so. Yes, we pretty near all died. But I lost only about two hundred out of the t'ree t'ousand. My bosses in my wagon died, and I must burn the wagon up for fuel. I first chopped the box, and den the tongue, and den the wheels, and pretty soon I was all out doors with just the stove. I had to pay for the wagon, which took most two months' wages." " That sure was mean, to make you do that," sym- pathized Chet. " Yes," agreed Gus, evenly. " But I did not have to pay for the bosses and the sheep. I wass lucky." The blattings of the sheep upon the bedding-ground died away, the wind soughed mournfully along the sage around about the camp, and very soon after the lantern was extinguished Gus was asleep. Phil was A LITTLE SURPRISE PARTY zoy certain that he himself lay awake, prepared to jump up and grab his weapon, half the night, and Chet was very certain that he was awake the other half; but Phil asserted that Chet had slept right through — ^and Chet asserted the same of Phil. Whereupon in the morning ensued quite an argument. Only Gus was certain of what he had done, and was uncontradicted. Gus had slept, and did not deny it. Another day passed, and came another night. Although Phil was again certain that he had lain awake, keeping watch and ward, he was aroused, sud- denly, amidst the darkness, by Gus stirring and by Kitty growling. The interior of the tent was black and chill. But Kitty was growling, and Gus sat up. Outside, on the bedding-ground, the sheep were fit- fully murmuring, sleepy lambs and nervous mammies inquiring, answering, reassuring. " Somebody iss about," said Gus, in undertone. " Kitty, she hears dem. So do the sheep. I do not t'ink it iss a coyote." Phil 's heart was in his throat, and thumping wildly. "Chet!" he whispered, nudging. "Get up!" Chet resented. " Quit ! " he stammered. " I'm awake. What is it? What's the matter? What you punchin' me for?" " Somebody's about." Chet threw off the covers and tried to get up. " Don't make any light," bade Gus, who was as cool and phlegmatic as ever. ^' Coom in here, Kitty ! You stay by me. You get shot," 2o8 THE CIRCLE K " What'll we do? " whispered Phil. " I don't hear anything. Is it a crowd to raid us? " " I hear dem," muttered Gus. " Listen ! Hosses, and men, too. We will crawl out under, the back- way. Dey will shoot holes t'rough the tent. It iss not safe to stay in the tent." Harking, Phil could distinguish, above the increased murmurings of the sheep, a faint, intermittent jingle and thud, a low laugh, and a word or two in under- tone, all muffled by night and distance. " I hear 'em ! " exclaimed Chet. " Where's dad's gun? Wish I could light a match. I got it. Come on. We'll show 'em. They try to raid this camp and they'll get burned." " Easy, easy," quoth Gus. " We crawl out the back way. You had better put on your boots, or you will cut your feet bad in the brush. Shut up, Kitty. You stay with me, or you may get hurt." Phil fumbled and fumbled, and found his shoes. He tugged — the shoe felt queer, it was the left boot on the right foot, but he did not stop to change. He picked up his carbine. Gus was fingering at the edge of the tent, behind the bed; he jerked the canvas loose from the stakes there, and a draught of cooler, fresher air rushed in. He crawled under, with Kitty, growl- ing and whining, wriggling after. Chet followed, and Phil pressed upon his heels. This seemed rather cowardly, sneaking out the back way and deserting the tent, but it was the best strategy. The sheep were all aroused, now, as if intuitively apprehending danger. The stars were bright, the A LITTLE SURPRISE PARTY 209 atmosphere dimly illuminated ; overhead rode high the great dipper. Into the brush scuttled Gus, until at some distance from the tent he halted, and squatted, with a grunt. " Dis iss all right," he said. " I t'ink if one of you stay here, and anodder go a littler furder along, den Kitty and I will go a little furder still, and whoever they are will get a surprise. But I would not shoot straight at dem. If it iss a yoke, to scare us, we do not want to kill any of dem; and if it iss not a yoke, we do not want to get killed ourselves. It iss a bad t'ing to kill or get killed." " We'll shoot in the air at first, but they mustn't get too gay," grumbled Chet. He left Phil, and went, stooping, to another station. So did Gus. Gus, in spite of his peace ideas, had Chet's rifle. Phil was left to himself. Crouching, he listened, holding his breath. His heart still thumped tremen- dously, annoying him because it interfered with his listening. But he could hear the approaching horse- men. They seemed to be chuckling. Now he could even distinguish shadowy, vague forms, in the gloom, against the brushy slope. He peered, and dared not move. From the camp issued not a sound except the uneasy mutterings of the sheep. But abruptly the silence was shattered. All in an instant arose a clamorous medley of yelps and hoots, and a volley of shots, and the shadowy mass came charging like phantoms across the sage. Pandemonium raged. High pealed the frightened cries of the sheep — Kitty barked furiously — and like 2IO THE CIRCLE K a cannon bang! bang! bang! boomed from Chet's place the heavy six-shooter. Phil elevated the muzzle of his carbine, and pulled trigger. The jets of fire spurted into the darkness. " Give it to 'em! Give it to 'em! " could be heard Chet's excited voice, making more noise than anything else. Pellmell the sheep (poor beasts) were pouring off the bedding-ground and bolting wildly in all direc- tions through the sage. They fairly ran over Phil, as he knelt, firing and with clumsy, hurrying fingers filling his magazine to fire again. A woolly, baaing body collided with him, and glanced off at a tangent. It almost knocked the breath out of him. The brush was full of the sheep. On the bedding-ground the air was punctuated with flashes and reports and shouts. The flashes were darting downwards and upwards; the invaders were firing at the sheep as well as into the air. One flash jetted horizontally; and out of the corner of his eye Phil noted a flash from Chet's six- shooter spring to meet it. Look out! They were shooting at each other! This was getting serious. He leveled his carbine, in readiness to join, in earnest, if need be. But quickly as the charge had been made, as quickly was it over. Wheeling with clash of stirrups and jungle of bridles, the attacking squad turned and dashed madly off, into the gloom again, still shooting but delivering mainly a chorus of taunting laughter, and cowpuncher whoops of de- rision. Then the forms were swallowed in the dusk, and A LITTLE SURPRISE PARTY 211 except for a spasmodic shot and occasional *'yip/' marking the retreat, the invasion was over. Far and near the frightened sheep were baling piteously. Chet was upon his feet, and was running forward. Gus also was standing. " I got somebody. They shot at me and I shot back, and it cost 'em a hawss, anyway," was calling Chet. '' Didn't you see him go down? I did." He went stumbling and panting through the sage and the sheep. Phil followed. Kitty came running. Morning must be near, for the world was perceptibly graying. Beyond the bedding-ground could be made out a blackish mass, upon the ground. That was the horse. " There it is ! " cried Chet. " There must be a man around here, too. I didn't see them double up, any of 'em. Did you? If there is a man he'd better not try any tricks or he'll get plugged, too. They'd no busi- ness shooting at us, or at the sheep. Watch out for a man in the brush, you fellows." " Kitty will find him," spoke the voice of Gus. " But we will not have any more shooting. It iss a yoke carried too far." Kitty had found him. She barked angrily. Chet ran. So did Phil. So did Gus; for if anything went wrong with Kitty, he wanted to be on deck. " Hold up your hands ! " ordered Chet, crisply, in a voice almost his father's. " 'Way up — and you stand up, yourself." His big revolver was leveled; he stood sturdily, aiming apparently at the down horse. The morning 212 THE CIRCLE K was come; gray had succeeded black; things could be seen quite plainly. Whatever was making Kitty bark was behind the horse, for she was glaring there and scolding apparently at it. " Don't 3^ou shoot. I got my hands up. Can't you see? Please don't shoot, mister." And just beyond the horse a figure stood, as out of the earth. It was a man — his hands were elevated. "Look out! I ain't doin' nothin'. I got my hands up. Don't you pull that trigger. I'll tell you all I know. Really I will, mister." The plaintive voice sounded rather familiar. " Go up and search him, Phil," directed Chet, in his gruffest tone. "If he monkeys with you I'll bore him right through the stomach like I would a coyote." Big talk this was, for Chet; but he meant it. " Yes," added Gus. " He will find that raiding a sheep camp iss no big yoke. We are bad men, in dis camp." Big talk was this for Gus, also. Now rapidly nearing, through the brush, sounded galloping hoofs. " Some of our men coming, I t'ink," spoke Gus. " You hold dis feller and I will go and see." " Ain't you goin' to let me put my hands down? " whined the figure standing behind the body of the horse. " Search him, Phil," directed Chet. " Stand at one side, though, so I can see him." " Oh, Chet," laughed Phil. " Do you know who it is? It's Hungry Joe! " HOLD UP YOUR HANDS!' ORDERED CHET. A LITTLE SURPRISE PARTY 213 " Shucks ! " muttered Chet, disgusted. " I thought it was a man. Search him anyway. Keep your hands up, you. Don't you move, either.'* " He hasn't anything on him," reported Phil. " Come on, Joe. You remember us. You wrangled the hawss herd on that drive last summer." " Can I put my hands down? " whined Hungry Joe. " No," ordered Chet. " You come along with 'em up." With hands painfully elevated, the figure preceded Phil back to where Chet was vigilantly waiting. Now it w^as quite light from the eastern horizon, and the captive could be easily scanned. He was a very thin, almost cadaverous youth, of perhaps twenty years, with petulant, long features; he wore flapping- brimmed black hat, red " neckerchief," flannel shirt, leathern chaps, elaborately fringed, and high-heeled boots with large-rowelled Mexican spurs. From his sagging belt dangled an empty revolver holster of large size. " Aw, put 'em down, if you want to," bade Chet. " You killed my hawss ; you needn't go to killin' me. You won't kill me, will you, Chet. I'll tell you everything I know. I didn't do no harm. I didn't want to come. They made me," whined the captive, well-nigh blubbering. " Is your hawss dead ? " " You shot him. He fell over on me. He might have hurt me, too. Now, I'll have to pay for that hawss. He ain't mine. I lost my revolver, too." " Here are Haney and Ford ! " cried Phil. 214 THE CIRCLE K The two riders whom Gus had met came gal- loping up. " Why, hello, Hungry Joe," greeted the Texan. " What you doin' here. Af tuh mutton ? Nevuh did see anybody wantin' to eat so, all the time." " They made me do it," whimpered Hungry Joe. " Reg'lar caow-boy, ain't he," commented Haney, to Ford, with mock admiration. " Look at those big or chaps. Wish I could be cow-boy again." "Where did you come from, Joe?" demanded Ford. " Over on the Big Blue. It was all a joke. Didn't anybody tell me it was you fellers who were here. We thought it was just common herders an' we'd scare 'em." " Weahs a big ol' gun, too, don't he ? " admired Haney. " Look at that holster — hengin' daown laike a hawgshaid. Where is youah gun, Joe? In youah pocket?" " I lost it when I fell," complained Hungry Joe. They all, except Gus, knew him well; he had been the dyspeptic young man picked up down in New Mexico last summer, and enrolled as wrangler over the remuda or horse-herd on the cattle-drive up into Colorado. " He popped in my direction and I popped back," vaunted Chet. " There's his hawss, dead in the brush." " You'll have to pay for it, too," scolded Hungry IJoe. A LITTLE SURPRISE PARTY 215 " You will have to pay for our dead sheep. There iss several dead and hurt," accused Gus. " Here comes the bavvss. Now you all can explain to him," remarked Haney. Mr. Simms, and Old Jess, were racing across the sage, making for the camp. The sun rose, flooding the brush with broad pale-pink beams. The sheep were baaing and baaing, seeking missing children and mothers and friends. '' What's all this trouble ? " demanded Mr. Simms. His face was stern and gray with anxiety. He and Old Jess glanced sharply through the group and around through the brush. "Who's this? I heard shooting." , ** Everybody was shootin','* drawled Haney. " They-all shot, an' we-all shot, an' Ford-all shot, an' now you-all — you-all come. An' it's nobody but pore Hungry Joe, lookin' foh mutton." "Any sheep killed?" " One, iss all," answered Gus, who had been dili- genth' searching. " And that iss the brown-legged rascal. But some are hurt." " What were you up to ? '* demanded Mr. Simms, severely, of Hungry Joe. " Where did you come from?" " From the Big Blue. It was a joke. We didn't mean to pile 'em up." "Who was with you?" " Just some boys from over there.*' " Whom you riding for ? " " The Saddle Cross." 2i6 THE CIRCLE K " He's a shuah cow-boy. See them Southwest chaps? " advised Haney. "I killed his hawss under him," informed Chet. " I wouldn't have done it, only he shot right at me." " Who set you on, to do this thing ? " continued Mr. Simms. **We done it just for fun," whined Hungry Joe. " They made me come. I didn't want to." He was a most abject specimen of cow-boy. '' Bah! " said Mr. Simms. " Turn him loose. Get out of here." " Ought to string him up an' switch him," grumbled Old Jess. " Can't I have a hawss? You killed mine," accused Hungry Joe. "Hawss? Yes — saw-hawss, with a quirt laid across your back," retorted the cowman. " Get out of here, pronto." " Can't I find my gun? I lost my gun," persisted Hungry Joe. "Iss this it?" asked Gus. He held up a Colt's bigger even than the one Chet had borrowed of his father. At least, it looked bigger. " Yes," said Hungry Joe, eagerly. " It iss too heavy for you to carry when you walk," remarked Gus. " And if the sheriff would meet you he would take it away. Here he comes now." The sheriff of Rice — yes, indeed, the little red- bristled sheriff of Rico was riding down, through the morning sunshine and the freshness, while the sheep, browsing, many of them, parted before him; and A LITTLE SURPRISE PARTY 217 ahead he appeared to be driving another horseman — another cowboy. The sheriff rode jauntily; the cowboy rode sullenly. " By the great horn-spoon. He's got Buster," ejaculated Old Jess. Chet giggled. " It shore is Buster," he quoth, to Phil. " Wouldn't that kill yuh. He was in the raid too, I bet." All waited and watched. The sheriff, arrived, halted, and threw his leg across the saddle horn. He smiled cheerily — although by eyes and mien he was weary. The cowboy was in well-worn puncher garb — a real puncher, he, lithe, tow-headed, but albeit now flushed as he met the looks of the Circle K. '*Why, hello. Buster," greeted Mr. Simms. "What's the matter?" " Ask him," answered the cowboy, with a jerk of the head at the sheriff. "Hello, Buster," addressed Phil. " Hello," grunted Buster. He was another old acquaintance — a former Bar B rider, of Mr. Simms' cow outfit when Phil had ridden the range with Chet. " Met him out pretty early, and some in a hurry, so I fetched him back with me," informed the sheriff of Rico county. " Calculated some of your sheep might identify him. I heard talk that you might be piled up. I was coming this way, anyhow." "Were you in that gang. Buster? " demanded Mr. Simms. "What gang?" 2i8 THE CIRCLE K " He was. He was, too/' accused Hungry Joe, shrilly. " I can tell you all about it. He was, an' so was a man they call Flap-Ears, an' two or three other fellers. They went off an' left me layin' on the ground, an' I pretty near got shot for it, an' that dog nearly bit me, too." Buster glared at him venomously. " Listen to that, will yu ! " he said. " An' he calls himself a man, an' wears leather pants! We didn't know it was yu, Mr. Simms, an' we didn't intend to hurt yore sheep. A Saddle Cross boy said there was two kids an' a Swede herder over here in a tent, an' we thought we'd scare 'em. Yu know how I hate w^ool- lies, but I shore wouldn't have come if I'd a known it was yore outfit. Did we kill any of the baa-baas? " " One, they say. You ought to inquire into these things before you start what you're liable not to finish." " I'd just like to give you boys a good dose," said the sheriff. " If I thought any of you were in that other gang that piled up the Box sheep I'd sure have you pounding rock for it. This sheep killing in my county has got to stop." " Well, we weren't none of us in that Box deal," retorted Buster. " But we don't want any sheep on this range. This is cattle range — or it soon will be." " What'll I do with him, George ? " inquired the sheriff. " I'll take him in to town — I'll take 'em both in, if you say so." " No, yu don't take me along with that coward A LITTLE SURPRISE PARTY 219 there," snarled Buster. *' I'll go in peaceable, but I won't go with him." " Aw, you ain't goin' to arrest me, Mr. Sheriff, are you ? " pleaded Hungry Joe, groveling again. " I'll tell you all about it. I'll turn state's evidence. Truly I will, Mister Sheriff, and Mister Simms too. You won't hang me, will you ? " " A-a-ah, shut up, yu coyote," snarled Buster. " Yu're worse'n a sheep. Yu make tracks as quick as ever yu can, an' don't yu show yoreself where any of us can get at yu! " "Let 'em both go," said Mr. Simms. "You're sorry, are you, Buster?" " I shore am, Mr. Simms. I hate sheep, but I ain't mean enough to go back on my own outfit, whether it runs beef or mutton. Yu ain't Circle K to me; yu're Bar B." " Skip, then," bade the ex-cowman. " Well," said Buster, regretfully, " adios. Yu fel- lers won't be bothered any more." He rode away — followed by a wail from Hungry Joe. " You ain't goin' to leave me. Buster. Don't leave me. I ain't got any hawss." Buster rode on. " A dead hawss is hawss enough for you," grunted Old Jess. " Yuh pack that saddle an' take a pasear ; you're spoilin' this range. Sheep won't feed where you are." Whimpering, Hungry Joe, the disgraced, hastily tugged and pried at the cinches on the dead horse. It 220 THE CIRCLE K was a scrawny black. Chet had shot it right througH the neck. The heavy Colt's forty-five had torn a great hole. They all let Joe alone, to work out his own problem. " Don't I get my gun ? " he called querulously. " No," said Gus, tucking the huge thing into the waistband of his overalls. " But if you should want to shoot yourself with it, come to me and I will den give it to you." The sheep had scattered widely, and everybody set to work to gather them and head them aright. The sun was bright, the day was fair. " There he goes," directed Phil, to Chet. And they must laugh, for Hungry Joe was staggering dolefully away, through the sage, lugging the heavy saddle and encumbered by his stiff chaps. " Sentenced to hard labor ; that's plenty," observed the sheriff of Rico county, who had paused to chat a moment. " Well, I'll be going, myself." " Nothing new in that Box mess, is there? " queried Mr. Simms. " Nada — nothing. Might be, if we could f oiler high enough. I have my suspicions ; and I tell you, I could mention names that would surprise you. Way-up people, who ought to be ashamed to meddle with a poor sheep-camp," and the little sheriff shrugged his shoulders. " How's that other sheriff doing? Heard he found the hawss with bloody saddle — and that's all." *" That's all, far as I know," responded Mr. Simms. "Well," remarked the little officer, again; *' adios. A LITTLE SURPRISE PARTY 221 I guess there won't be any more trouble on the mesa, this year." He rode away. " I said that not'ing would come out of investigating that Box raid," declared Gus. '' No. Not'ing ever does. Anyway, we got off easy. Sheep not hurt much. I t'ink we should t'ank dem for killing that brown-legged rascal for us. I wish somebody would come and kill that old black-face fool; and den we could travel nicely. I wass going to kill that brown- legged one myself, in a day or two, when we needed meat" CHAPTER XVII WHEN LAMBS LOSE THEIR TAILS Now had come the time on the lambing range when all the little lambs must be marked — must lose their tails, the little boy lambs slices of their ears also, and must take the paint brand of the Circle K. This was the last event for the lambing range ; following it, the Circle K would take the long trail for the high coun- try of Ptarmigan Flats, there to spend the remainder of the summer. The make-believe raid upon the camp was a matter of ten days past and the camp had again been changed to fresh pasturage, when riding in from a short tour of the other camps Gus reported his news. " To- morrow we will trail the band over to the marking- out corral. I met Old Jess, and he said that they would be ready for us. Haney and Hombre's band wass marked out yesterday. They lambed ninety-t'ree per cent. I t'ink we maybe can beat dem." " Shore we can," declared Phil — who really did not know anything about it. The marking-out corral was built of the slim stems of aspens and pines, secured without the use of nails by being laid between pairs of posts. The whole corral had not a nail in it, but was erected out of material to be found in the nearby young timber, 222 WHEN LAMBS LOSE THEIR TAILS 223 It was divided into several pens, with a narrow pas- sage or shute running between, and was located about two miles from the cabin, in the open amidst the sage already trampled by the preceding band of Haney and Hombre. The boys and Gus had made camp nearby, on the preceding evening; and now, letting the sheep graze while they ate their own breakfast, at five o'clock they were interrupted by Mr. Simms, Hombre and Luis the Californian arriving together. Evidently the marking-out process required quite a " gang; " and so it did, to push it through in a hurry. Only an occa- sional late lamb was now being born, the other Iambs were waxing large and strong, the days were becoming hot, the spring herbage was tough, and suddenly into the atmosphere had crept a fever of impatience for the high country. The breakfast dishes must wait, to-day; with shout and gesture and with bark of Kitty, Gus's dog, and Bonita, Luis's dog, tied to the brush that they might not interfere, the sheep were driven into the largest pen of the corral. There they baaed tremendously. The air was rife with their musky odor. The lambs pressed close to their mammies, as if afraid. Connected with this large pen was a smaller pen. Luis, Hombre and Gus it w^as who stayed in with the sheep (" Three are enough! " called Mr. Simms, from outside) and with waving of arms and of gunny sacks forced a portion of them, midst a cloud of dust, into the second pen. Speedily this pen was filled, and the gate was closed. 224 THE CIRCLE K " You boys work that jump gate," directed Mr. Simms. " Bueno. I show you," proffered Hombre, with his sunny smile. The jump gate proved to be a gate about two- thirds along the shute, set against a post, right in the middle, and swinging both ways. Here were two exits; and opening one exit the gate closed the other. The sheep, young and old, of the smaller pen were being urged on to fill the shute. " Eet is dees way," directed Hombre, to Chet and Phil. " When leetle lamb he come along, you must turn gate quick an' let him into dees pen on the right. When old sheeps come along, you mus' turn gate quick and let her into other pen, on left. Lambs, dey all go into right-han' pen; sheeps, dey all go into left- han' pen. Savvy? That so we have each kind to- gether. Sometime dey come so fast you got to work fast, too." Down the shute were crowding the animals, prodded from behind by Gus and Luis to make them move. The first was an old wether. He looked up with his snaky yellow eyes, at the two boys, leaning over, their hands upon the gate; he looked up even intelligently, and as the gate was swung, to bar his passage to the right and open it to the left, he almost nodded, and scuttled through obediently, with a little kick-up of delight as he entered the yet empty pen awaiting him and his mates. " Look out! " exclaimed Chet, jerking at the gate; WHEN LAMBS LOSE THEIR TAILS 225: for now a lamb had darted forward and had tried to follow the wether. "No, you don't!" warned Phil, as with Chet he jammed the gate hard in the other direction. It bumped the lamb on the nose ; he recoiled, astonished, and with a blat of alarm scuttled into the lamb's pen on the right. So fast came the procession, nose to tail, and lambs mixed close with the elders, that swinging the gate required quick eye and hand. Twice ewes got through the wrong opening — for the mammies especially had a trick of suddenly taking a leap and bolting for the hole through which the lambs had disappeared. Very stupid and head-strong were many of the old sheep, while others were easily managed. These errant ewes were promptly seized by Hombre, who was in ambush just beyond the gate, and lifted by the hind legs were deftly and unceremoniously dumped right over the partition into the rightful pen. They landed with a thump upon their sides, to pick themselves up and gaze reproachfully about. " Dere ! " addressed Hombre. " Now you stay." Several times, also, lambs sneaked in with the sheep, before the gate could be swung to block them; and Hombre must leap over in and throw them, likewise, into the proper compartment. But he did it more gently. Pen-full after pen-full was run through the shute, until about nine o'clock the band had all been as- sorted; one pen was jammed with the ewes and wethers, one pen with the wobbly, woolly lambs, some 226 THE CIRCLE K large, some quite small; the majority white, a few black. High rose the blattings, as lambs called to their mammies, and mammies answered. Standing in another enclosure, against the rail fence which divided it from the lamb pen, Luis the Cali- fornian, his hat off and crimson shirt-sleeves rolled high up above his swarthy elbows, was sharpening a pocket-knife upon a little whet-stone. Beside him was standing Mr. Simms, examining a paint stamp (like the paint stamp wielded by Old Jess at the shearing corral) ; a bucket of paint was hung from one of the rails. ** All right. Pass dem up," said Gus ; as sweaty and grimly he vaulted into the lambs' pen. Hombre imitated him. *' Come on ; we can help. They're going to cut off the tails," spoke Chet, to Phil. " You'll see." " All ready," announced Mr. Simms. Luis, feeling the edge of his knife-blade, nodded. Gus, knee-deep among the lambs, seized one, and lifting it to the top rail of the fence presented it upside down and tail-end first to Luis. With one stroke of the keen knife Luis cut off the tail, about two inches from the body! A tiny thread of blood spurted up, and struck Gus in the face as the stump curved with pain. The lamb gave a baa of protest, Phil uttered a shocked exclamation. The sight almost sickened him. But he had seen calves branded and ear-marked, and he steeled himself to this also. With another quick motion taking the lamb's left ear between thumb and blade Luis snipped a long triangle, or swallow-fork, WHEN LAMBS LOSE THEIR TAILS 227^ in it. From the ear also spurted a tiny thread of blood. Phil winced. But the worst was over for this lamb ; Gus stepped aside with him, turned him over and offered his back to Mr. Simms, who pressed the wooden stamp upon it, leaving a black Circle K. Gus reached over and lowered the lamb to the ground in the empty pen, and it went kicking and bucking away, feeling a decided smart before and behind. Hombre was holding another lamb for Luis to mark, and Gus picked up a third, to have in readi- ness. "What do they cut the tails off for?" demanded Phil. "Whew! It must hurt." " No want tails on sheeps," replied Hombre. " Gather to much dirt an' stuff, an' sheeps no need 'em. Tails no good. Hard to carry 'round. Now I guess meat what goes into tail, goes into mutton, after tail he gets cut off." " Luis doesn't mark the ears of all the lambs. He skipped one then," observed Phil. " We ear-mark the wether lambs, is all, to pick them out easy in a bunch from the ewe lambs," explained Mr. Simms. " Let's get over in. We can catch lambs for them," invited Chet, tired of the inaction of being spectator. So into the pen they went, and about their feet dodged the lambs. When Phil caught one he w^as more sorry for it — so warm and soft and babyish it was. But the law of the sheep range was as stern as the law of cow range; and man was master to inflict 22d> THE CIRCLE K whatsoever he choose. Phil passed his lamb to Hombre. In due time the lambs grew perceptibly scarcer, and must be chased before they could be caught. It was no longer a case of stooping, grabbing, and passing as fast as hands could work. Furthermore, the lambs were growing heavier. No easy job was it, this rais- ing fifteen and twenty pound animals, who kicked and wriggled and must be held tight; raising them one after another without stop. The boys puffed and per- spired ; Hombre and Gus were puffing and perspiring, and they and Luis were streaked with the blood from tail stumps and cleft ears. Along the fence were scat- tered the tails — queer, limp things, like shreds of wool. " How many do we do to-day, I wonder," panted Phil. " Do dem all," assured Gus. " Yes. One good man to cut, with odder good man to pass him the lambs fast and right, can mark out t'ree t'ousand in a day. We have not got t'ree t'ousand, of course." " Si," confirmed Hombre. " An' Luis, he good man. We all good men." Gus grunted, as if doubtful. He did not like Luis. There was no pausing for nooning. But presently Mr. Simms paused, and wiped his brow with his paint- black hand. He left a smear, which matched another on his cheek. " Those boys can pass up the rest of the lambs," he said. " You two men might go over and help Ford bring on that band of his. We'll get at it to-morrow." WHEN LAMBS LOSE THEIR TAILS 229 ''All right. We can; can't we, Phil?" declared Chet. " Sure," said Phil. Gus and Hombre resigned their posts. Hombre paused a moment, good-naturedly to watch and to advise. Phil's turn was first, as he was ready with his lamb. He held the little fellow firmly, offering it to Luis upside-down as he had seen the two men offer their lambs. It was warm and palpitating in his grasp, he could feel its heart throbbing, it lifted its head and looked with babyish eyes into his face as if inquiring: " What are you doing with me ? " But Luis mechan- ically and mercilessly stretched with one hand its tail, and with the other slashed with the knife. Off came the tail, the lamb gave a surprised little blat, and quivered through all its frame; Phil felt a qualm of sickness, and would have shut his eyes, but Luis flung the tail down and he knew that he must turn the lamb head- foremost that its ear might be clipped. That was not so bad, and gladly he passed on with the luckless youngster to Mr. Simms. Holding it hunched with back uppermost he presented it; its hide wrinkled ap- prehensively under the branding stamp, but that did not hurt it any, and he might drop it gently over the top rail. Away it scampered, to join the other initiates grouped in the sunshine in the far end of the pen. But before he had time to grab another lamb, there was a sudden outburst of shouts and growls mingled, from the brush behind, and a quick exclamation from Luis. Instantly he leaped the fence, ran through the lambs* first pen and vaulted that also. His dog and 230 THE CIRCLE K Giis's were having a tremendous combat. Hombre was hurrying to the scene. Gus was warily circling the twain, watching for opportunity to separate it. "Fight!" cried Chet. "Look at *em, will yuh!" Mr. Simms gazed. " They certainly are having it/' he commented. The two dogs were rolling over and over in the sage. Kitty had been untethered by Gus, to accompany him ; but Bonita, Luis's dog, was still tied and therefore was at disadvantage. Now Kitty had her down, and was boring with sharp nose into her throat, while she chewed at Kitty's fore leg. There was something wolf-like and savage beyond words in their furious tussle. What had caused it who might tell ; but they must have exchanged challenges during the marking out, or else there was the same jealousy which marked the attitude of Gus toward the Calif ornian. Now Luis had arrived. His red shirt darted upon the field. Gus might have been seeking a good op- portunity to seize Kitty and drag her off, but it did seem that he was unnecessarily delaying, giving Kitty plenty of time to work. Luis must have felt that way, for without a moment's hesitation he flung himself upon the fighters and with vigorous toe sent Kitty fairly flying through the air. She vented a grievous yelp, and lay struggling out of breath a dozen feet away. The impact of the boot against her side was plainly heard, at the corral. " By thunder, that will mean trouble," said Mr. Simms. With a bellow of rage Gus sprang at the Indian — WHEN LAMBS LOSE THEIR TAILS 231 but Luis' knife thrust straight at his face, and he jumped back. '' Look out ! " called Mr. Simms. " None o' that ! '* He threw down his branding stamp and likewise leaped the fence. Phil was quicker, for he had noth- ing to discard. He, too, sped, followed by Mr. Simms and Chet. Without a word Gus had turned and had run for his saddle. He fumbled there and whirled with Hungry Joe's great revolver in his hand. Luis glanced from side to side, as if for shelter; then poised, knife in hand, his upper lip drawn back exposing his white teeth in a ferocious snarl. He was not going to beg, not Luis. " You kick my dog ; now I shoot your heart out,'* bellowed Gus. His face was inflamed, his blue eyes, ordinarily so placid, blazed. Vainly Mr. Simms shouted; vainly shouted Chet; Hombre danced; he picked up a piece of rail, and with swift motion circled behind, like a panther. Murder was in his eyes also, for he was the champion of Luis. Up rose the revolver. Gus squinted over the long barrel ; but he was just pressing the trigger when Phil flung himself upon him. He never gave a thought to himself, did Phil; the act was so involuntary, as if he were making a football tackle. His only thought was, that murder might be committed, and that he must beat that shot which was forthcoming. Hombre, wild with rage for his friend Luis, had swung aloft his stake, with a hiss; he brought it down, the report of the revolver rang out, but stake and revolver both missed their aim, for Phil's rush sent 232 THE CIRCLE K Gus staggering backward and the revolver went hurt- ling into the sage. With a snarl Gus sprang forward. One thrust of his great arms flung Phil aside like a mere pillow; Luis, crying out, also sprang, now, knife pointed dangerously; Hombre leaped with stake again uplifted. Chet's frightened voice shrilled high, bidding Phil keep back. But Mr. Simms was the bulwark. " Get that gun, Chet ! " he ordered, sharply ; and his spare but tall and muscular form interposed between the Swede and the Indian. Chet darted for the re- volver, in the sage, and grabbed it. " That's enough," spoke Mr. Simms, sternly, to the two men. ** I won*t have any fighting in this outfit. You can quit it, or you can take your time and get out." ** He kick my dog," accused Gus, glowering. ** Well, your dog was killing his," retorted Mr. Simms. " Good riddance. If I had that dog I shoot him/* muttered Gus. Luis, bending over Bonita, who was whining and licking his hand, turned his head and retorted, under- tone, with some angry, contemptuous comment in Spanish. Gus now walked grumpily aside, and examined Kitty, who was still whining and gasping. He felt of her ribs, but evidently discovered nothing broken. *' Give me that gun," spoke Mr. Simms, to Chet. " And you might as well drop that stake, Hombre. Now you two men get on your hawsses and go over WHEN LAMBS LOSE THEIR TAILS 2zz to help fetch in that other band, as I told you to. And you can be thankful, on the way, that this boy prevented likely a double killing. Now we'll all quit this foolishness and get to work. I don't want to hear any more about it." Saying nothing, Gus caught his horse, and mounted. Hombre did likewise; they rode off; and if anybody feared that a quarrel would arise on the way, nothing was said. Kitty, only, was still openly pugnacious. With a growl in the direction of Bonita she trotted after Hombre and her master. Mr. Simms unloaded the revolver, pocketed the car- tridges and tucked the weapon itself into his coat, which hung on the fence. Luis left his dog licking her wounds (which on account of her thick coat did not amount to much), and followed Mr. Simms to the corral. ** You shorely were just in time," remarked Chet, to Phil — with a note of honest admiration in his voice. " He would have killed that Luis plumb dead, and then Hombre would have killed him." " Somebody had to do something, mighty quick," answered Phil. " And I was first on the spot. Won- der if Gus will have it in for me, now." " Naw," said Chet. " He'll be all over it by night. He just flared up. But Luis is liable not to forget. He's an Indian." And Luis didn't, although his memory took a differ- ent course from what might have been expected. The work of marking out was resumed. The re- mainder of the lambs were passed up, were graduated 234 :THE CIRCLE K into sheep. Many really did not seem to mind the knife, much. They made no sound; and it occurred to Phil that perhaps they were not afraid of pain, and therefore did not feel it so keenly. The fear of pain is the worst thing about it — like fearing the dentist for a long time, and then knowing, when the work was over, that it had not been so bad after all. Many of the lambs, as said, did not utter a sound and scarcely made a movement, and when they were released they presently began to nibble at scanty grass and brush, in the pen. But others shrank under the cut, and walked weakly away, when released. And Phil felt sorry for them all. He was glad indeed when the last youngster had been handled, and there were no more in that band to be mutilated. Now it was hot mid-day. The marked lambs' pen adjoined the pen where the older sheep were confined; and it was pitiful to see the ewes sticking their noses between the rails, baaing for their children, and to see the children, smarting and thirsty, sticking their noses back, to be licked and comforted. But not yet were the families to be reunited. The elders were to be attended to. So all the ewes and the wethers were driven into the shute again, and Mr. Simms and Luis passed along, scrutinizing them, sometimes feeling of their bodies, sometimes opening their mouths and examining their teeth. " Dees one," called Luis. And bringing over the paint pot, with a stick Mr. Simms daubed a straight line across the sheep's broad haunches. WHEN LAMBS LOSE THEIR TAILS 235 " What's that for? " demanded Phil. " That's what we call ' barring/ We bar the unfit sheep, and sell them. If you noticed, her teeth were no good. She'll go in to market as mutton — and I pity the man or woman w^ho tries to eat her. It will take better teeth than she's got," asserted Mr. Simms. Each sheep looked up imploringly, as inspected. " T'ree, is all," announced Luis. Mr. Simms recorded the number of the unfit and barred upon an envelope. " Let 'em go," he bade, to Chet, who was at the exit end of the shute. The gate was swung, and out went the sheep. They kicked up their heels as they filed into the open, and several blatted with glee. "" They know," observed Mr. Simms. " They know they're through with this bother. A year-old ewe or wether understands the shute perfectly/' When the sheep all had been passed and had been released, the gate of the lambs' pen also was swung. The lambs edged forward, the mothers edged in. A tumult of baas arose. Little f ellow^s sought frantically here and there; were repulsed, were welcomed, as the case might be. The lucky ones immediately began to drink; the others cried loudly and nosed and were nosed, until the very last baby had found his mammy. Mothers comforted by licking and nuzzling, children thirstily gobbled warm milk; and not the very sorest of the urchins was neglected. The spectable was so human as to be pathetic. Phil, for one, was heartily relieved and amused. ** I know what, now," exclaimed Chet. 236 THE CIRCLE K In the lambs' pen, along the fence where the knife had been wielded, he began to gather up the tails. '' What you doing? '' asked Phil. " Going to count 'em. Come on." Odd to the touch were those neglected, lifeless tails — so limp and dangly; not unlike large, fuzzy, torpid worms they seemed. They were piled into a heap, and counted. " How many? " queried Mr. Simms. " Two hundred and sixty-one, I have," answered Phil. " Two hundred seventy, here," answered Chet. " And there were five hundred forty ewes," re- marked Mr. Simms. He figured, on the envelope. " That's just a little over ninety-eight per cent of lambs. Good enough ! " " I said we would beat that Indian's band," com- mented Gus, later, when told. " He iss no good ; he or his dog." So jealous was this Gus, of any rival to Kitty. CHAPTER XVIII THE RIDER OF THE FLOCK All together, the lambs numbered a fraction over three thousand ; so that, the barred or unfit sheep hav- ing been driven by Mr. Simms and Gus to the railroad, for shipping, the flock of the Circle K now boasted eight thousand and more, for trailing to the summer range. From the railroad Gus came not back ! This was a surprise to the boys. He had said not a word of leav- ing, but in his characteristic, stolid way had ridden off with Mr. Simms, and thence had proceeded on his way, bound for Wyoming. That was just like Gus; he was no great talker, but he had silent determina- tion, nurtured by many lonely months amidst the brush where he alone was master. " He thinks of going into sheep on his own account. He has a little bunch, already — he and a partner — up in Wyoming," explained Mr. Simms, quietly. " And I was about to let him out, anyhow. We don't need so many men, now, after lambing. You boys can take the band. He left you his hook, he said." " We'll be plumb herders, then, with a band of our own ? " asked Chet. " Sure enough herders," responded his father. " I reckon you can manage by this time." 237 21,^ THE CIRCLE K " I reckon we can," swaggered Chet. ''Shore," supplemented Phil. ''We'll take turns carrying the hook. Or you can have it, if you want it." And it did fall to Chet, for Phil came in for some- thing else. Luis was the next to leave — discharged as an extra. He, too, rode silently, stolidly away — and the boys knew nothing of it until Hombre came over, one noon, with Bonita. " Luis, he say for Meester Phil to tek Bonita," he announced, happily. " Luis muy fine man. He t'ink Meester Pheel save hees life that time, an' mebbe save Bonita's life too." " But where is Luis ? " asked Phil, astonished. " He not here any more. Gone back to Californy. But it too far to tek Bonita. She stay with you, I guess. You want her? Muy fine dog. Not mean dog like that Swede dog. Luis, he know her father an' her mother. Dey all Spanish dogs — Pyr'nees dogs. Been in Californy one hundred years; mebbe more. You want her?" Hombre put the query anxiously, and Phil was quick to answer. " Want her ! I should say so ! Here, Bonita, old doggie. Here, old girl." She pricked her ears, and gazed at him with her soft, bright brown eyes. He knelt and put his arms about her neck. He had not been permitted to pet Kitty, but this was his dog, and he could pet her as much as he chose. She pressed her head against his breast, and licked his hand. Then she licked his face. Phil was overjoyed. Ever since THE RIDER OF THE FLOCK 239 he had touched Kitty and had watched her graceful, knowing ways, the desire of his heart had been to have a dog her equal. " H you don't want her, I'll take her," advised Chet, enviously. " You can have the hook," laughed Phil. " But TU let you pet her. I won't be like Gus." *' Bueno," quoth Hombre, delighted. " She your dog. Bonita — that mean what you call ' nice,' * pretty,' ' good little one.' She muy fine dog. What you call ' lady dog.' Now I go back. You stay with Meester Pheel, Bonita. He your pardner. Not Luis; Pheel. Adios. I see you all again. Pret' soon we go up in Ptarmigan Flats. To-morrow, mebbe." " I ought to thank Luis," called after him Phil. "Where is he?" " Sometime. But he say you save hees life. He cannot tek Bonita. You have her. She stay." And Hombre galloped madly away, for his camp. Bonita gazed puzzledly after him. "Here," said Phil; and with lowered ears and de- mure expression upon her sharp-nosed countenance, she turned and followed her new master. A beautiful dog was Bonita: long-haired, black as to body and bushy, flowing tail, but white collared and white chested and with two white feet. Her legs were so slim and she trotted so daintily and lightly that she seemed scarcely to press the grass. She was thoroughly an aristocrat. From that moment she stuck close to Phil, obeyed his every word and gesture, and although she recognized Chet as a friend she did 240 THE CIRCLE K not recognize him as being in an authority. And as he did not try to interfere and boss, and accepted the hook as his share of herdership, the camp got along very nicely. The strange thing was, that Bonita appeared to un- derstand English as thoroughly as she understood Spanish— which was the language of her former master Luis. This proved that she was a dog extra- ordinary. After the initiation of the lambs at the corral when they were made full-fledged members of the Circle K, the camps remained almost within hailing distance of one another, while the youngsters recovered from the ordeal. Bonita could now be used, for the old sheep M^ere no longer skittish with the arrival of the new babies, and the babies themselves were becoming big boys and girls. Phil and Chet had no difficulty in turning their charges out in the morning, and in gathering them at evening. Phil directed Bonita, and Chet waved his hook. They both cooked, as happened. In their overalls and rusty boots (Gus had worn brogans, but he had worn them off when he went), their trudging and their cooking, they were graduate herders. They were responsible for some three thou- sand sheep and lambs — and they liked it better than when Gus was around. But within a few days after the departure of Gus and Luis, from headquarters issued orders to take the trail for the high country and the summer range. The bands were re-divided, after a fashion, so as to make them more equal. Chet and Phil, with Bonita, THE RIDER OF THE FLOCK 241 were over one band; Hombre and Ford were over an- other; and Hombre was the herder over the third. But he was equal to any two ordinary men, for he was a Mexican, and a mighty good Mexican, and he " knew sheep." Clever indeed was Hombre. Early in the morning Old Jess made the rounds, packing the camp outfits on his burros; he and Mr. Simms struck out, ahead; and the three bands, three thousand strong, each, followed, their herders mounted, making for the great hills, and Ptarmigan Flats, thirteen thousand feet up. So they marched: veteran Mr. Simms and veteran Old Jess, with the burro train, in the advance ; Hom- bre and his blatting woolly band, the boys and their blatting woolly band. Ford and Haney the Texan and their blatting woolly band, following, at intervals, making a procesion half a mile long, winding through the draws and ever climbing. And ahead misty and mysterious, opening upon the view and closed off again, waited Ptarmigan Flats. On Pepper and Medicine Eye, with Bonita trotting soberly in their wake, or occasionally chasing aside to investigate gopher or bird, the boys were very con- tent. The saddle felt good. Higher and higher ascended the untrodden way. The grazing country for ordinary herds was left far behind, and a mining country was entered. Prospect holes were to be seen, in the sides of the rocky slopes — holes that resembled big ant holes, with the dirt taken out and piled at their mouth. Several deserted and ruinous mills were passed, and wandering pros- ■2^2 THE CIRCLE K pectors, afoot, or ahorse, and driving their burros, were met. The streams were icy cold, the sage brush low, herbage was a brighter green, aspens were leaving out as in spring, and flowers which had withered on the lower levels were here just bursting into bloom. Looking behind, the boys could see their nine thousand feet lambing-range, which once had been deemed so elevated, reduced to a hazy patch far down. The third evening out camp was located in a wide but rocky draw, with the boys' tent pitched at the foot of a steep wall — the base of a mountain which towered, pine clad and frowning, still two thousand feet above. All about were other frowning, heavily timbered giants, their stern crests bare and jagged, brown and yellow with fires extinguished a million and more years ago. It was a wild scene. Beyond the tent, and glimmering whitish in the gloam, were the tents of Hombre, and Ford and Haney, and Mr. Simms and Old Jess, erected in likely spots where were wood and water, and proper bedding-ground for the sheep. The dusk had settled quickly, this evening, for the west was thick with black clouds, as if a storm was rising. Far and musical could be heard the tinkle- tinkle of the bell-wethers, leaders in the other bands, as Hombre and as Haney and Ford were making their nightly gather. Phil, with Bonita, and Chet, with his hook, started on their circuit, to complete their own gather ere they should feed and house themselves. For this was the part of the good and efficient herder : to attend to his flock and establish them safe for the night, regardless of his personal comforts. On the THE RIDER OF THE FLOCK 243 trail there could be no dirt-hard and salt-baited bed- ding-ground; but it was the herder's duty to inspect his band, at the close of each day, and to know the whereabouts of every sheep before he himself ate or slept. Already Pepper and Medicine Eye were hobbled and grazing. Through the gloom Phil with Bonita trudged in the one direction, Chet with his hook in another. The sage brush had been succeeded by the stiff buck-brush, dear to sheep, and this was mingled with boulders and rock-masses; stunted cedars, their tops forced flat by persistent winds of winter and by the heavy snows, grew here and there in clumps. Even in the brief period while the tent had been pitched, and the horses turned loose, the sheep had strayed, sillily seeking the better forage which they ever anticipated grew a little higher or a little farther on. " Around. Way 'round, Bonita ! " commanded Phil, with a wave of his arm; and Bonita, needing not another word, loped off, ahead, to circle and turn. She could cover the higher ground, w^hile Phil and Chet covered the lower where climbing was not re- quired. And presently the sheep came pouring down, with her barking behind. The sheep turned by the boys joined them, and in a mass they all went obedi- ently trotting and noisily baaing, for the open pastur- age where they should spend the night. But to Phil's ear and eye alike there was some- thing odd about the band's behavior. The center of the mass swarled and eddied, in a confusion, and* the 244 THE CIRCLE K sheep voices that lifted were discordant and fright- ened. " What's the matter with 'em, I wonder," called Chet, across. " They're acting queer." He, too, had noticed. " So's Bonita ! " answered Phil, suddenly. For her bark had become, like the sheep voices, ex- cited — but it held a new element : that of defiance and rage. She was madly racing from side to side, some- times leaping high into the air, as if trying to sight something obscure; and that something seemed to be among the sheep ! Phil peered for the intruder; another dog, perhaps, or a strange sheep, possibly a wild one, may have entered the band. Chet's cry pealed alarmed and com- pelling: "I see it! Something's on the back of a sheep! Clear in the middle of the herd ! " The mass of the sheep was dim and confused, in the dusk ; and stooping Phil sought to bring the backs against the sky-line. And sure enough, there in the midst of the band a dark hump broke the general plane of lifted heads and shaggy rumps. About this hump the sheep were milling and recoiling, voice and action showing great dismay. It was like to rock upon which a current eddied and broke. "What is it?" "Do you see it?" "Yes. What is it?" Another dark shape broke the plane of backs — but it was Bonita, darting in, weaving here and there and THE RIDER OF THE FLOCK 245 leaping high to make her course. She was not uttering a sound. *' Bonita! look out! " called Phil. " Come on/' bade Chet. They too ran in, dodging and leaping, sending the affrighted sheep right and left. " I know ! It's a lynx ! " exclaimed Chet, who was on the shorter course. " Jiminy, but it's a big one ! " Scurrying and baaing, the sheep had entered more into the open, free of the gnarled, stunted cedars and the boulders, and where the last twilight reached from a gap amidst the great battlements to the west. The dark hump was thrown into momentary high relief — and the boys could see it plainly limned: a huge furry cat, large as any water spaniel, riding the flock. There it sat, crouched with cruel tight grip of claws and legs upon the foreshoulders of a sheep, it and its hapless steed occupying a clear little spot all their own. No sheep would help another sheep, and the great lynx rode on. It must have sprung from out from a cedar clump, as the animals passed. But although the other sheep had left their comrade to stagger along with its dreadful burden until it died, Bonita, the dog, was of temper very different. Scarcely had the lynx raised its round, tufted-eared head, its green eyes glinting balefully, to snarl de- fiance at the two boys, when like a big black ball the form of Bonita bounded into the little cleared space. At that instant the poor sheep fell; it had borne its hard rider as far as it could. But the lynx stayed on top; and still seated in the saddle, as it were, squat- 246 :THE CIRCLE K ting close, with flattened ears and low head snarled viciously from the body of its victim. "Bonita! Here, Bonita! Get out of there!" called both boys, in alarm. Half circling, with a tremendous leap into the air Bonita, uttering only a whine, charged. There was a fearful catawauling, mingled with growls; upon the sheep two figures, closely joined, swayed and struggled ; and suddenly with a yelp of pain and anger out shot Bonita, head over heels, as by a single resistless kick. The cat's powerful hind legs must have ripped into her hide and flung her away just as she jerked loose. For the lynx, like any cat, fights by seizing with its fore legs, biting, and kicking with its hind legs. Chet exclaimed. He dashed forward. So did Phil. " Bonita ! " they called, frantically. " Come away ! " " She'll shore be killed ! " cried Chet. " That's no bob-cat. That's a lynx — a regular big lynx. It'll kill any dog." Bonita sat, a moment, whining. But as if en- couraged by the reckless approach of the two boys she swiftly circled again — while on its spoil, in the center, growling and spitting, the lynx constantly faced her. It certainly was a fearsome looking beast ; it was almost a demon in its fierce rage and defiance. Its green eyes glowed like incandescent lamps, and all its thick fur stood out until it was swollen like a prickly porcupine gone mad. A man, let alone a dog, might well have hesitated attacking such a creature. But with another high leap Bonita was upon it THE RIDER OF THE FLOCK 247 again. The cat half rose to meet her. There was an- other tremendous caterwauling and growling. Phil rushed forward. Chet rushed forward. The two ani- mals rolled off the sheep carcass, and continued to struggle violently along the ground. Bonita seemed to have the cat by the neck, but with a mighty writhe it turned under her and with one stout forepaw clutch- ing her by the head ripped again and again along her stomach with its powerful hind quarters. Phil would have rushed in with only his hands; but Chet warned hotly. "Look out! Wait." And he circled eagerly with hook upraised. Whining and wincing from the keen punishment Bonita struggled to free herself, and to swing about so as to clear those murderous, ripping claws. With a heave she wrenched away, but retained her neck hold, hanging on and worrying as a terrier would a rat. She dared not let go. But the cat clung, too, so that the wrench dragged it half over and exposed its back. Phil danced imploringly, for it seemed that Bonita was going to be killed. Down like lightning descended Chet's hook, landing squarely across the lynx's arched spine, inflicting a stunning blow. The staff broke sharply in two. With a startled yowl the big cat straightened out, limp. Chet grunted exult- antly and raised his club again. Bonita whined eagerly, and suddenly would shift her hold to another and more deadly one, but Phil had her by the collar and hauled her backward. For the lynx was not past danger; not yet. That blow upon the spine had 248 THE CIRCLE K stunned but had not disabled. Now those strong hind quarters began to thresh and kick vigorously, the head lifted and grasped at nothing, the open mouth flashed long, white fangs, but down swooped Chet's club, smiting the round head. The lynx, stricken sorely again, stiffened and quivered, and struggling more and more feebly as Chet belabored it, died there beside the body of the sheep. Phil released Bonita, and she had a splendid few moments worrying her defenceless enemy. The boys stood over the stretched body of the lynx, and in the dimness eyed it. Hideous it was in death, as it had been fearsome in life. It was a compact, thick-bodied animal, blue-gray in color, with lighter chest; its tail was short and stubby, its head round, its ears were surmounted with a distinct tuft or tassel, its fur was so long as almost to make a ruff about the neck. But what particularly was to be noted were the large, furred paws, armed with tre- mendous claws; and the terrifically long, strong hind legs. " It's shore a regular Canada lynx," declared Chet. ** I never did see one before." " I never did, except in a menagerie," said Phil. ''Here, Bonita. Did it scratch you up very bad? Brave doggie ! " They examined Bonita's wounds. Her thick hair had saved her considerably, but the cat's claws had digged through, just the same, and had fairly ploughed the hide open in long red furrows adown her stomach and across her ribs. Her neck and ears, too, were THE RIDER OF THE FLOCK 249 bleeding. But she was a good dog yet, and ready, evidently, for another tussle. Chet patted her approvingly. " Not many dogs would tackle a lynx," he praised. " You broke your hook," reminded Phil. "Well, W'e had to do something," responded Chet. It was dark; during the combat the sheep had scat- tered widely again, and leaving the lynx and the wether with torn throat, its victim, they and Bonita must set to work and make another gather. They let the lynx lie, until morning. Twace ere they settled to sleep Bonita trotted out of the tent to make certain that all was well. As she came in after each time with fresh blood on her lips, she must have visited the dead cat and mouthed it a little more, as further notice not to stir. In the morning the news was spread; and dangling from a spruce the arch-enemy of the sheep was viewed with wonder by the rest of the Circle K, ere the day's drive was begun. CHAPTER XIX A MEETING ON PTARMIGAN FLATS The country of Ptarmigan Flats lay at the top of the roof of the world. Here began streams, trickling as rivulets from the snowbanks of August, and a mile and more below becoming rushing rivers ; here the patches of drifts never disappeared ; here flowers grew and grasses were sweet and green, or else everything was brown and frozen or covered with snow, for it never was summer. It was spring, or winter — May or December. Hail and sleet drove across the flowers and the grasses, from June to November, and from November to June there were many snows. A wide, open, rolling region it was, close to the light-blue sky and to the scudding clouds ; windy and calm by turns, with boggy vales and great fields of slide-rock, hedged by jagged battlements rising bare and sharp all about, bathed in the warm sunshine and the thin-crisp air by day, and frosted every night, and very lonely save for the yearly visits of the sheep. Pines and cedars had been left behind, in the final climb; and in this thirteen thousand feet region grew only some willows and aspens, and a very few sprawl- ing cedars not higher than a man. The bands of the Circle K were located right on a pass — right on a broad, gently rolling swell of turf and rock which 250 A MEETING ON PTARMIGAN FLATS 251 formed an easy route from western slope to eastern slope of the highest Rockies. In fact, it was really an ancient crater, and the tent of Phil and Chet was pitched beside an icy stream, amidst some willows, upon a site of now forgotten fires. For around about extended a clear rim of rock, five hundred feet high, broken down and crumbled in many places, and colored red and purple and yellow and brown. Under- foot, as the boys trudged about, were masses of yel- lowish ash packed like clay, and quantities of black slag. Below the tent, beside a burro trail leading across the pass, was a small pile of rock, surmounted by a stake crowned with a ram's skull. And a round brass plate, riveted into a boulder, read, in a circle like a seal : 12866 ft. U. S. Geol. Survey. So there was no doubt about the height. This was only sheep country, and from the first week of July until the last week of September this air was melodious with bleatings and tinkling of bells. Then, might it be supposed. Ptarmigan Flats was glad of the company, for other guests it had none, except the eagle and the buzzard, in the sky, in the rocks the big-eared coney storing away straw, and in the timber and brush the bear and the cat and the coyote. Oc- casionally a forest-ranger rode through, bound from point to point. The Circle K sheep were permitted to stray almost as they pleased, during the day, and at night were 252 THE CIRCLE K only loosely herded. The Circle K tents were all within a radius of a mile, so that there was visiting back and forth. Mr. Simms and Old Jess estab- lished headquarters, and periodically made trips down to the lower country, and to town, for supplies. Around about were other outfits, also. The Box proved to be across the crater rim, on the east. Mr. Adams came riding over, one day, and the bul- let-headed foreman passed through, another day. Further along was a third outfit, of which the herders all were Mexicans. Hombre was delighted. Yes, it was a fine country for sheep. The Circle K lambs, the loss of their tails forgotten, waxed big and fat ; for there was nothing to do but to eat and sleep. Bonita's wounds had healed, and the affair of the lynx was ancient history, when one morning from his seat upon a rock, overlooking lazily the sheep which grazed along the crater slope before him, Phil descried, topping the open rise which marked the pass, and evidently following the burro trail that led over and down again, a string of horses and burros, like a pack-train. Sitting motionless, observing, herd- er-style, he decided that it was a camping party. Whither they came and whither they were going he did not much care; this was a big country, and a free country, and he felt a fine independence, sitting there upon his rock like a prince upon his dais. It was his country, his and the sheep's. A rider detached himself from the file and came galloping along. Even then Phil did not stand, still deeming it beneath his dignity as a sovereign and an A MEETING ON PTARMIGAN FLATS 253 independent unit to show much interest. But the rider also had keen eyes ; evidently he was a Westerner, then; for he swerved and directed himself straight toward Phil. He was lank in the saddle and wore a huge flapping-brimmed black hat; and he rode well at gallop, trot and walk alike. With his horse picking quick way through the low brush and across the rocks he came on — until Phil, who had been staring more and more in amazement, at last stood. ** Is this the trail to Roaring Pine Forks?" called the rider, as he drew near. " Don't know," called back Phil, with a shake of his head. *' Isn't your name Pete? " The rider, peering, continued. He halted. A grin overspread his lean, freckled face, and swinging down he stuck out his hand. ''Well, if it ain't Smith-Jones! What you doin here, Smith-Jones ? Gone into sheep ? " He was Pete, round-up cook, and cook on the New Mexican drive. Very thin and lank was Pete, with small, shrewd, freckled face and keen gray Irish eyes. His specialty was that great flapping hat, and his uniform good nature. But he wouldn't stand much imposition, and he was always ready for a fracas. " Yes. We're all here. The Bar B's the Circle K. There's Chet, watching us. Ford and Haney are over that little rise, and Hombre and Mr. Simms and Old Jess are east about half a mile. What are you doing?" 254 THE CIRCLE K Pete laughed gleefully. "Me? I'm guide an' cook both. I'm takin' a party through, on a campin' trip. Who you think I got ? " Phil could not guess. " You know 'em. They're that muley professor we found last summer, an' Cherry; an' then I got another girl, friend o' Cherry's." "What!" exclaimed Phil. Pete nodded triumphantly. " Them's shore the people. Come on over. They'll want to see you. But where does this trail go? That's what I rode over to find out." " I don't know, Pete. It's all new country to me." Pete grunted disgustedly, and wagged his big hat. " Never did meet up with a sheep-herder who knew anything except where he'd come from an' where he was goin'," he complained. " But I reckon now you folks are here my party'll want to camp for a day or so, an' by that time I'll learn the country for myself." With some conscious importance, as guide and coun- selor, Pete mounted. " Comin' over?" he asked. " Better." " Yes, sure," answered Phil. He walked along beside Pete's stirrup. " That yore dog? " queried Pete, indicating Bonita, who followed close at Phil's heels. *' Yes." " Looks as though she might be a good one," ad- mitted Pete. " Best sheep dog in the country," declared Phil. A MEETING ON PTARMIGAN FLATS 255 *' She got pretty badly clawed up, the other day. Tackled a lynx." " That's a big contract, for one dog," said Pete. "Kill it?" " No; but she held it while Chet broke his hook on it and stunned it." " Bueno," approved Pete. " I reckoned she must be a good dog. Some o' them sheep dogs are more human than some folks. In my private opinion I'd heap rather be a good dog than a bad man." The camping party and the pack train had waited, on the top of the rolling pass, while Pete had ridden to inquire the trail. Phil could see the man who was the professor, and the tw^o girls, one of whom w^as Cherry. *' That's Cherry, on the boss," observed Pete. " Her friend's on the ground, huntin' for things to pick an* carry off. She's the wust little maverick I ever did see, for a tenderfoot. Alluz is thinkin' the West is ' so romantic' Even when one o' them jacks brays, it's romantic. Fm romantic," and Pete chuckled. Yes, they were the professor and Cherry, all right. They evidently did not recognize him, as they waited and looked. And he walked in upon them — the regu- lation sheep-herder in faded blouse and overalls, his sheep-dog at his heels. Cherry's face brightened. The professor, her father, straightened in the saddle and stared, aston- ished. And there were exclamations and shaking of hands, 256 THE CIRCLE K " Is Chet here, too ? And my daddle ? " demanded Cherry, much excited, her cheeks aflame. She was the same Cherry of old — quick as a gopher and heartily enthusiastic. The professor, her father, was not now wearing the skull-cap which had given him his horn- less or " muley-cow " appearance when found sense- less after the stampede last summer; he was wearing a narrow-brimmed little round " crush " hat, which set jauntily above his full-bearded face. " Yes, they're all here. There comes Chet now," answered Phil. " He knows something is up." Cherry waved, and then went galloping forward. The girl on the ground, who seemed to have been for- gotten, looked bewildered. She uttered a little cough, as if inviting attention to the fact that she was being omitted in the general greetings. Phil had noted her, politely, out of the corner of his eye. She was a rather pensive but pretty girl, with light hair and blue eyes. It was an awkward situation, for the professor smiled blandly, and was asking questions, totally oblivious of the hitch in affairs; and of course Pete could not be expected to make introductions. However, Cherry could be depended upon, every time. She abruptly had wheeled and was galloping madly back again, without having met Chet. " Why," she exclaimed, out of breath, and much perturbed, " I never introduced Molly ! And I know father hasn't thought. Molly, this is Phil. You know Phil who helped rescue me from those men. And this is my best girl friend, Molly Gibson, Phil. She's from Chicago, like you are, but she loves the West." A MEETING ON PTARMIGAN FLATS 257 " Yes. It's so romantic," asserted Miss Molly. " And isn't this romantic — for you two to meet, here in the wilds, again." Phil murmured that it was, and put on his hat, which he had gallantly removed, battered and weather- beaten though it was. Chet arrived. There were greetings renewed, and another introduction. He blushed, at Cherry's praises; and Miss Molly was once more impressed w^ith the romance of it all. " Chet's father is my other father. I call him daddie, and papa is father,'^ explained Cherry. Phil in turn introduced Bonita. They all made much of Bonita — all except the burros of the pack train. " There's another friend of ourn around here,'* an- nounced Pete. " The sheriff of Blanco county. We met up wnth him back a ways — him an' that Injun Charley. They were on a trail, I reckon; but they didn't say who or where, an' we didn't ask no ques- tions." Chet and Phil exchanged a quick glance. The man with the limp must still be at large — and he must be headed this way, or else prowling about. That was bad; bad especially because now here was Cherry, whom he had stolen twice, and whom he probably would like to steal again if only for meanness. And he surely was a disagreeable neighbor to have, anyway. Outlaw and bad man, willing to risk anything for his own gain, he was worse than hungry coyote. But it was just as well that Cherry should not be 258 THE CIRCLE K told now that her arch enemy, Joe, the man with the Hmp, was at large. It would make her little visit un- pleasant. However, the time came when the boys, and the others of the Circle K, wished that they had warned the party. The camp of the party was located just below the camp of Phil and Chet; and before nightfall all the Circle K had called or had been called upon. Grizzled veteran Mr. Simms, and wrinkled, stiffened Old Jess were surprised and delighted beyond measure, as Cherry kissed them both; for she was their child by adoption. Haney the Texan reddened redder with a pleased " Howdy? " and Ford of Boston and Harvard was brother and gentleman in one as he shook hands. That night a central camp-fire was made, and came riding into its circle of light the sturdy sheriff of Blanco county, and the swart, silent Charley the Ute. They unsaddled, and prepared to spend the night at the headquarters' tent, with Mr. Simms and Old Jess. The moon, now waning toward its last quarter, was just emerging over the jagged battlements in the east, and was sending glamorous beams over the v/ild country of turf and rocks and ashes and crags, beneath it, when with Cherry and Miss Molly, and the profes- sor and Pete, the two boys rode back to the twain camps. Like a wolf Bonita trotted behind. " So romantic ! " sighed Miss Molly. "What is, now?" demanded Cherry, briskly. " This night, and everybody, and — and everything out in the West;" declared Miss Molly, rapturously. A MEETING ON PTARMIGAN FLATS 259 " Oh, I should just love to be one of you boys, and live this v^ay — 'tending the lowing sheep daytimes, and basking around the blazing camp-fire nights, while the wolf howls and the bear growls and the wind sings to the pines." *' That sounds like what you read about," blurted Chet. "But it's not all a picnic, is it, Phil! Wait till you've had to chase sheep all day, in the snow or rain, and eat when you can, and get your own supper after dark, and go to bed in your wet clothes and get up before sunrise and start at it again, and you wouldn't see much romance, I guess." "Yes," agreed Phil. "It's like the cowboy life you read about. Sounds like play till you try it, and then it's mighty hard work." " You bet yuh ! " chimed in Pete, wagging his big hat. " Same with cookin' for the round-up. Buckin' bosses and wet nights an' wind that blows yore fire into the pots — they're all bunched together in the real thing; but they're left out o' books, I reckon." " It's romantic, though," insisted Miss Molly, earnestly. " I find it all so romantic. I should love to be a real Westerner." ** There ain't many," declared Pete. " That Charley the Ute is the realest Westerner. He was born West, an' his daddy an' mammy before him, an' all the rest of his ancestors. I ain't a native Westerner, myself. I was born in Kansas City, an' that's plumb East." CHAPTER XX EPHRAIM COMES FOR MUTTON The Pete party decided, of course, to stay several days. The professor was immensely interested in the volcanic evidences all around. His vocation was archaeologist for Oklahoma University ; but his avoca- tion, or recreation work for fun, was investigating anything ancient, be that rocks or human tokens. He was glad to stay, so as to poke about with his pocket microscope and a hammer; and the girls were glad to stay, so as to poke about also, and to enter into the sheep-camp life; and Pete was glad to stay, to rest the " bosses." That trail did lead to Roaring Pine Forks ; this he speedily found out. It was the morning after the reunion about the camp-fire, and Phil was again watching over his stray- ing sheep, when a figure rode for him, and presently Charley Pow-wow, the Ute young man, dismounted beside him, and gravely squatted. "You like this better than cow-punching?" asked Charley, leisurely. " No. But it's not so bad after you're used to it. I'd rather ride than walk, though," answered Phil. Charley grunted. "Where is the professor?" he queried. 260 EPHRAIM COMES FOR MUTTON 261 " He went off prospecting around, somewhere. Went over toward that ridge." "Where the two girls?" '* They rode off to see Hombre. He doesn't know they're here." Charley grunted again. His dark face was set and sober, as he chewed a sprig of weed. " They ought not go so far from camp," he said. " That lame man, he is liable to be in here. We've trailed him, and I think he is hiding out here. It is outlaw country; very wild." " You're still trailing him, then, are you? " prompted Phil. He had been curious to learn, but he had not ventured to ask, lest the sheriff should not be ready to answer. *' Yes. We lost him, but we are finding him again. We'll get him. You tell the professor, and those two girls. I came over to warn them." " I hate to scare Cherry," deplored Phil. " She'll be so afraid that she won't sleep nights, even. You know how." Charley nodded. " Yes. But better she afraid than stolen. She stay in close a little while, until we get him. He may not want her, but we do not know ; and he is very desper- ate. Maybe we have to shoot him on sight, this time. I dunno." *' Where's the sheriff?" " He's shoeing his boss ; he and your father. He thought we ought to tell this professor. Maybe ought to tell them last night. I dunno. Good-by/' 262 THE CIRCLE K Charley arose. " ril tell them, when I see them. I'll see you again, too, won't I?" " Maybe. I dunno," grunted Charley. He had been white-man, in his conversation; but now he suddenly was all Indian. Phil knew that noth- ing more could be got out of him, and so let him go. The news was communicated to Chet. " Shore. I knew it," affirmed Chet. " That sheriff doesn't stop till he gets his man. He's a terror on the trail; and so's Charley. That Joe might as well quit, and hold up his hands. But this is an awful mean country to corral him in." " We'll have to tell the professor and Cherry," said Phil. " It's dangerous for them to be where he is. He's had Cherry twice, and he'll want her again and hold her for ransom. He has it in for all of us, now, I reckon." " I reckon," concurred Chet, nonchalantly. *' All right; we'll have to tell 'em as soon as we see 'em." But they did not see the professor, nor the girls, during the day. And Pete himself had ridden on, to inspect the Roaring Pine Forks trail, on the other side; for there were rumors of washouts. The day passed. Now that they knew the man with the limp was in the country, the boys were uneasy. They wished that Cherry and Miss Molly would show up; they wished that Pete would show up. Of course, the whole re- sponsibility of the Circle K did not rest upon their shoulders, for Mr. Simms and Old Jess and Hane}^ EPHRAIM COMES FOR MUTTON 263 and Ford and Hombre were in the vicinity, to form a body-guard if necessary. But the camp of Pete and party was here beside their own camp, and that kept them keen. The sun was seeking the bare, pointed parapets to the west, when Phil was a little curious to see Chet saddling up, at the tent, and presently to come riding over upon Medicine Eye. He had his rifle, in scabbard under his left leg. " You and Bonita can round up the sheep. Fm going over to Hombre's and bring those girls back. They might start back alone." "Go ahead," bade Phil. "We can handle the sheep." So away rode Chet; through the low willows and buck-brush of a boggy swale beyond, and over the yel- low ash ridge where the ancient volcano had breathed its fiery breath and died, and dipping down he dis- appeared. Phil spoke to Bonita, and trudged to locate the out- skirts of his sheep, so that he might simplify the even- ing job of bunching them. The sun seemed destined to make an early setting behind the ramparts of the west, for a cloud-mass was rising to meet it and hurry it in. But sharp and clean stood forth the ramparts of the east, forming a portion of the old crater's rim. The light fell full upon their face, displaying the weird yellows and reds and purples and browns which had been burned into it. Perhaps because they had not been well bunched, the ni^ht before, owing to their herders' haste tp visit 264 THE CIRCLE K with the Pete party ; or perhaps just out of their natural contrariness, the sheep had to-day wandered far, trick- ling into all the little byways of their pasture as if seeking the newest nooks they could find. Keeping on the up side, so that they could oversee, Phil and Bonita proceeded over the rocks and the scanty herbage of the steep slope, above which jutted the great wall of the crater. They really were circuiting by the midway tier of an enormous amphitheater — larger far than the Coliseum of Rome and much more ruinous. The sheep ran baaing down, from the niches where they had climbed. The arena of the amphitheater, which was the bottom, extended up into the sides in many long fissures, seaming the tiers of vari-colored rock. These seams were strewn with the buck-brush and with dwarfed larches and with flowers, until, ascending still, they were marked by only loose rock and ashes. With Bonita Phil paused to rest and take breath. They were well up, on the slope — the only spectators of the panorama unfolded below and around about. The tinkle of the bell-leaders in the band (he and Chet had promptly belled the old black-face fool, too, when they had assumed charge of the herd) floated musically up, as the sheep drifted along toward the flatter pastur- age. The sun shone level from the west, and showed them specking the herbage; lighted every inch of the hither side of the amphitheater, where were Phil and dog, but cast the further side into shadow. Bonita pricked her ears, and Phil's gaze suddenly halted and stayed, with the same interest. A black spot had emerged from a seam, on before, and EPHRAIM COMES FOR MUTTON 26^ was traveling rapidly across the open area at its mouth; traveHng as if with a distinct purpose in mind. Bonita growled, low and menacing. The spot was a third of a mile distant, but she seemed to see in it something that Phil did not see, although he strained his eyes, and watched closely. Person? No; not a person. Too large for a person, and did not move like a person. Horse and rider? That was hard to de- cipher. Might be. Might be somebody from the other sheep camps — from the Box or the Mexican gang of the Three A. And yet it did not appear as a horse and rider. It was more like a loose horse ambling along. And loose horse he would have decided it to be, had Bonita not persisted in pricking her ears, at it, and growling. Fairly in the open it seemed to quicken its pace — it launched into a sudden rolling motion like a gallop — and covering the space rapidly it had charged straight for the nearest sheep ! Now while Phil gazed, appre- hensive, it was into them, where they huddled and scampered. Their thin, frightened blatting rose to him and Bonita. But even before it had reached them Phil knew. This was no horse. It was a bear! His heart in his mouth he went running down, shouting loudly, while boldly in advance of him loudly barked Bonita. Now he wished that he had been carrying his carbine. But herding sheep did not require a weapon, he had found, and the carbine was stowed in the tent for emergencies only. When he hail 266 THE CIRCLE K it, he never saw anything to use it on; and when he didn't have it, then of course he needed it, as here. But he had not time to go to the tent after it. Straight through the eddying sheep had charged the black object, and now had turned and was charging back again. It swerved in erratic course, as if allured hither and thither ; and trying to keep his eyes on it as he stumbled and slid Phil saw that it had stopped and was holding to one station. It must be eating a sheep. He could imagine it planted upon a palpitating woolly carcass, and tear- ing and gulping. Plunging down the loose slope of rocks and soft turf they had almost reached the bottom, and were nearing the scene. Bonita now raced ahead impatiently and indignantly. Her barks, shrill and angry, awak- ened the echoes. Phil continued to shout. His voice sounded empty and powerless, amidst that vast arena thirteen thousand feet in the air. And this impressed him with the thought that he would be just about as powerless, facing a bloody- jawed bear, among the panic-stricken sheep, his only weapon his fists and feet and a dried stick which he had picked up. But he must save the sheep. The bear loomed large. Yes, a bear it was — stand- ing, as he had pictured it, upon the prostrate body of a sheep, and tearing away greedily. Three other sheep were down, where striking right and left the charging beast had thrown them. Either their necks or their backs were broken. One was struggling and feebly bleating. EPHRAIM COMES FOR MUTTON 267 But the bear never noticed. He never noticed Phil. He was eating. Big? A rich brown he was, as large as a cow and as burly as a bull. Only when Bonita went barking and growling in upon him, disturbing him, did he lift his head, from the platter (so to speak), and with a look out of his piggish little eyes, and a rumbling snarl which displayed shining white teeth, bid: *' Get out! Don't bother me." Bristles stood up, over his huge shoulders, and maintained warning as he proceeded with his eating. He was at once hoggish and terrifying. Phil must pause. The sheep were wildly fleeing; looking back, trotting on, looking back again, and again trotting. He and Bonita were left with the bear and the carcasses, there in the open of the arena itself. The buck-brush grew irregularly, like patches of hazel- brush, and amidst it towered the bear, devouring his sheep. Bonita, with tail drooped and lips curled back, bris- tles up, so that she too might look as fearsome as possible, sidled about the bear, watching for a chance to nip. Vainly Phil called to her. Occasionally, as she drew too close, the bear would barely lift his broad head, and would rumble. Once she made a dash — and quick as a cat the bear had whisked his hind quarters around, so that he faced her; Bonita precipitously retired. The bear left the sheep which he had been mauling and guzzling, and stalked majestically to the next carcass. This sheep, not yet lifeless, raised its head an inch or so from the ground and baaed pleadingly 268 THE CIRCLE K in his face. But he calmly stepped upon it, and nosed it as if seeking the best place for his first chew. Phil could not stand this. Somehow, he did not feel especially afraid of the bear, anyway. He had seen bears so often, in zoos and menageries, and had heard so many stories of them, that he had grown accustomed to the idea of them. According to everything that he had heard, the ordinary bear was a peaceable creature if let alone, and usually preferred getting away with- out a fuss. This bear made him mad. The colossal nerve of it, killing half a dozen sheep at once, and then stalking about, irritated because it was disturbed. One would have thought that it, instead of the Circle K, owned the sheep ! ** Get out ! " he berated. " Get out of here ! Come away, Bonita! " he searched about for a stone. If he only could hold back Bonita, and hit the bear with a few rocks, he might make it move. But Bonita kept stirring it up, by snipping at its hind quarters; and thus prevented retreat. Phil found a rock, and threw it. It struck the bear on his flank, and he instantly whirled, resentful, for attack. Seeing opportunity, Bonita rushed, and nipped like a wolf. She would have darted in and out again, nimble as a sword-thrust — but she was not quite nimble enough. With a roar and about-face instan- taneous the bear whipped out his paw for her; he caught her, all right, just as she was midway of her backward spring, and Phil witnessed her hurtling through the air, with a yelp, higher than his head, to EPHRAIM COMES FOR MUTTON 269 crash into the brush twenty feet away. Yet it seemed to him that the bear scarcely had touched her. This infuriated Phil beyond measure. He cared for the sheep, but he cared more for Bonita. He in- stantly pictured her lying crushed and struggling, in the brush where she had landed. But before running to her, to see, he threw a second rock at the bear. " I'll break your head for that, if I get a chance," he yelled. The rock thudded squarely on the bear's slavering jaw; and as if now infuriated in turn, the great beast, with another roar and squeal combined, rose and towered, standing on his hind feet. Much higher than Phil he was; taller than a man, broader and heavier than a man. He was a giant, and his brown bulk filled the landscape. Phil stared, well affrighted, and ready to run. As he did not accept the bear's invitation to step forward and wrestle, the animal, with a wheezy, complaining grunt, lowered himself lighly to his fore- feet again and rubbed his jaw with a paw. Suddenly he stayed his head, and raising his nose, sniffed. There was a sharp, smart crack, from behind Phil, and the bear, collapsing, crumpled in a brown heap. His body twitched a little, and he was still. Much startled, Phil dared to look around. He saw, standing about twenty paces in his rear and to the right, a strange figure. It was an old man, with copious white beard, and white hair that hung about his face and down upon his shoulders. He wore upon his head a heavy, broad-brimmed, round-crowned hat ; his cloth- ing appeared to be leather; and at the moment he w^s 270 THE CIRCLE K energetically ramming a charge or a bullet down the barrel of a long, muzzle-loading rifle. He flipped out the ramrod, stowed it in place underneath the barrel, from a flask shook a little powder into the rifle's lock, and jarring it to position, evidently satisfied re- turned Phil's gaze, and smiled. He came forward. "Dead b'ar?" he queried. "Must be. I drawed bead 'twixt eye an' ear, an' my ol' woman never missed mark like that yet. Yes, gone b'ar," he added, peer- ing over the brown heap. " An' gone dog, too, I reckon, jedgin' by the way he went sailin' through the air. Nope, thar she comes," for Bonita was limping back again, curious but more cautious. She did not seem to be much hurt. " Well, I'm much obliged," said Phil, as he patted her. " That shore was a good shot you made. I didn't know what he was going to do next. He'd killed my sheep." " So I suspicioned. But I knowed I'd got him, when I fired. I stayed back to reload the ol' woman, though. That's the plan. Never rush with an empty gun. Quite a sizable b'ar. Cinnamon. Wall, my name's Grizzly Dan; that's what they call me. I'm an ol'- timer. I was with Fremont, when he come through this country over fifty year ago." " My name's Phil Macowan,'* responded Phil. " I'm herding sheep for the Circle K. Thaf s our camp, over there." " I see it," nodded Grizzly Dan. " I'm a trapper. I've been a trapper more'n sixty year. Go ahead with THE GREAT BEAST ROSE, STANDING ON HIS HIND FEET. EPHRAIM COMES FOR MUTTON 271 your sheep, an' after I take the skin off'n this animile I'll be over. We'll have b'ar steak an' fixin's for supper." ''Don't you want help?" proferred Phil. The old man laughed, chuckling in his beard and twinkling in his heavy-browed, small, shrewd eyes. The suit he wore was buckskin, blackened as by smoke and by grease. The coat was like a shirt, hanging out- side his trousers which were more like leggins, being open at the thighs. On his feet were plain moccasins. " No, thank 'ee. I reckon I can butcher my own meat, from buff'ler to Injun." He laid his rifle carefully against the brush, and drawing a long-bladed knife from a sheath at the belt he wore, knelt in business-like manner beside the body of the bear. Phil left him, for it was time that the sheep were col- lected and bunched for the night. He had not thought to ask the old man how he happened to be on hand so opportunely, nor how or whence he had come. But as he turned his eye caught sight of a spotted pony back in the buck-brush. ' That must be the old-man's horse. Having again gathered the sheep, Phil scarcely was at the camp ere the old man arrived, on foot, rifle on shoulder, leading his spotted pony piled high with meat and skins. There were not only the bear pelt, but the pelts of the sheep; all lashed fast. " I've been seein' your camp, but I don't mix up much with travelers through," grunted the old man, as he began to unfasten the load. " I make my own trails. But when I seed you an' that b'ar, I reckoned 272 THE CIRCLE K I'd better interfere. That b'ar was beginning to get reel angry. I give him a pill out o' my ol' regulator, though, that sweetened his stomick. Sally, she knows how to perscribe." Sally took Phil's eye. She was the rifle — and she was a flint-lock. Yes, an old-type mountain-and-plains gun, with long, heavy barrel, big hammer and pan, and slim-necked, well-curved stock. But if she was a flint- lock and a muzzle-loader, she was enough, for her owner had settled that bear with a single shot. How- ever, flint-lock rifles were nowadays to be found mainly in museums — and old Dan himself might have been found there. But of course this comment was not to be made aloud. " Yes, we'll have b'ar steak an' fixin's," mumbled the old man. He laid aside the sheep pelts, and un- rolling the bear pelt exposed a quantity of dark red meat and white fat. " That b'ar had been livin* high. Thar were three inches o' grease on him. This your pardner comin'? Got wimmin folk with him; two gals. An' 'nother man besides.'* Grizzly Dan had quick eyes and keen eyes; Phil now for the first time descried Chet (or probably Chet) approaching, riding across the flat, through the dusk ; with him three other figures. These proved to be Cherry and Miss Molly and Pete ; and Phil felt a surge of relief. The girls were safe, then. But the pro- fessor had not returned. " He must have stopped at one of the other camps," asserted Chet, for Cherry plainly was worried. The darkness was thickening. The air was frosty. And EPHRAIM COMES FOR MUTTON 273 evidently she had been told about the quest of the sheriff, for Joe the lame man. " Yes/' agreed Pete. " I'll ride 'round after supper, an' make sure." So for a short time chief interest centered in Grizzly Dan, as he puttered about the stove, crooning and mumbling in contented way, while frying a wonderful sandwich-like concoction of bear meat and fat mingled in strips. '' Yes," he was saying. " I war with Fremont, in '48. I come out to the Injun country when I war fif- teen, an' I've been hyar ever since. I knowed Kit Carson an' Jim Bridger an' Bill Williams an' all of 'em. I'm a Fremont man an' a Kit Carson man. I'm eighty- six year old, but I can trail an' trap with anybody, an' I reckon I've got jest about one more Injun fight in me. Who you pow-wowin' about?" he asked, ab- ruptly, hearing the discussion over the professor. " My father. He's out somewhere and he hasn't come in. I'm afraid he's lost, or else that a bad man who's around has got him," said Cherry. '' Shortish man, with round store hat 'an' whiskers, on a bay hoss with four white feet?" demanded the old trapper. " Yes," exclaimed Cherry. " That's shore him," agreed Pete. " Wall, I seed him," announced Grizzly Dan. " I seed him. Who's that other man you spoke of, gal? Slim, Greaser-faced feller, with black-moustache 'bout as big as a beaver's, an' one foot crippled? Ridin' a speckled hoss ? " 274 THE CIRCLE K " Yes, yes ! I don't know about the horse, but it's Joe. Oh, it is Joe ! Did you see him too ? " cried Cherry, breathlessly. Grizzly Dan nodded, solemnly, and poked his meat. " Yes, missy. Seed him, too. Seed 'em both to- gether, shortly after noon to-day. They was ridin' along, in Cinnamon Gulch, an' I sat on the hill, an' watched 'em." **0h!" exclaimed Cherry. She sobbed. "He's got my father. He didn't get me, but he got my father." " Don't cry, dear," comforted Miss Molly, putting her arm around Cherry. " Please don't. We'll find him again. But how thrillingly, dreadfully romantic! " " Oh, pshaw ! " muttered Phil, in dismay. Chet and Pete also exclaimed. Joe the lame man had the professor, probably to hold as hostage. The price of liberty and freedom from pursuit would be the professor, poor m^an. But amidst the general consternation and Pete,s excited avowals that he was going at once to follow the lame man and kill him on sight, Grizzly Dan took the reins. ** Wait till mornin'," he said; "wait till mornin'. Thar won't be nothin' gained by startin' out on a dark night an' an empty stomick. They'll have to camp, themselves, unless they know these trails better'n I do — an' they don't. When I seed 'em they was bound up Cinnamon Gulch; but I know a short cut we can take in the mornin' an' if thar ain't a leetle ha'r-raisin' due 'fore we've had to travel very fur I'm pore EPHRAIM COMES FOR MUTTON 275 beaver. You got an Injun, you say? Wall, Injuns are good on the trail, but I can out-Injun any Injun that ever wore moccasin — or at least, I uster could. So we'll wait till mornin', an' we'll fill our meat-bags full o' this hyar b'ar fixin's. Don't she smell good? Needn't cry, gal. Your dad's safe to-night. He'd be no good to that feller, dead; so he won't be hurt.'* CHAPTER XXI GRIZZLY DAN ON THE TRAIL "Yes/* said Grizzly Dan, riding easily. "I talk some Ute, an' I talk Shoshonie an' 'Rapaho an' Sioux an' some Blackfeet. But sign language is enough. If you know signs, you don't need to talk." It was the next morning, and the Circle K was afield, on the trail of the man with the limp and the professor his captive. Mr. Simms and Old Jess, Pete and the sheriff of Blanco county, the two boys, Charley the Ute and Grizzly Dan : forth they had ridden, with dawn, leaving behind Ford and Haney and Hombre to care for the sheep and the two girls. The old trapper, in his dingy buckskins, upon his pie-bald pony, long rifle across hollow of left arm, rode in front, with Charley Pow-wow. When he had en- countered Charley he had eyed him askance, and then had grunted a few words to him. Charley had grunted back. The Ute language seemed to be mostly grunt, anyway, Phil remembered. Now the old trapppr was speaking over his shoulder, to Phil and Chet, who rode behind him. " This boy doesn't know me, mebbe, but I reckon his father does. The old men know me. I've font zvith 'em an' I've fout agin 'em. The Utes war mostly the trapper's friend, but a red niggur's a red niggur, I've found, when he's out for scalps." Z76 GRIZZLY DAN ON THE TRAIL 2']^ " Charley's father is dead. We saw him get killed last summer," replied Chet. Grizzly Dan addressed a few words to Charley. Charley grunted gutturally back — in almost a single syllable. "No; he says not. Got well," declared Grizzly Dan. "Did he, Charley? Is Chief Billy alive?" asked Phil, astonished. For he and Chet had witnessed Chief Billy reel from the saddle, in response to Hungry Joe the wrangler's long shot. Charley did not answer. He was Indian again ; and when that mood was upon him he declined to respond to English. It was news, anyway. And Phil was rather glad that the fat old Ute chief was still on earth. The old trapper had halted his pony, to point. The cavalcade also halted. " Cinnamon Creek lies over yonder, acrost that thar leetle divide," he informed. " Whar I seed them two men war right south, on 'tother side, down below that white patch. The creek flows nice an' easy for half a day's travel, through willow an' this hyar brush, an' then it enters among slide rock an' stuff whar it's the dickens to pay to gtt out." " That's a new country to me," said the sheriff. " And I wager you it's a new one to Charley." " It ain't new to me," asserted the old trapper. " I've been high an' low ; I war in hyar fifty year ago, crossin' over an' huntin' beaver on 'tother side. I've seen this country when it war full o' buffler, driven 278 THE CIRCLE K acrost by the Injuns, an' when elk war as plenty as them sheep. Many a beaver I've made ' come ' lower down on Cinnamon. That lame feller may think he knows the country, but he don't stan' no show with me. We'll short cut, for that saddle — see it? — an' we'll strike his trail fresh, at the creek below, or I'm a Injun myself." They rode on. Grizzly Dan led by a peculiar rock- ing trot which covered the ground at a surprising rate, for his pinto or spotted pony seemed to be making no effort. Charley the Ute rode beside him, and the others followed: the two boys, Mr. Simms and Old Jess, the sheriff and Pete, each with a rifle in scab- bard under leg. But the old trapper could not carry his rifle in scabbard under leg. As said, he carried it loosely lying in the hollow of his left arm. And Mr. Simms had only his big Colt's six-shooter, thumping at his thigh. For two hours more they rode, at that constant trot which would have galled any ordinary horseman; for after a while a steady trotting becomes irksome as one fails to find new places to sit on, in the saddle. They reached the ridge, and at the base a pause was made. Charley the Ute shrugged his shoulders, and glanced to the west. He spoke a word or two of Ute. The old trapper nodded. " Coin' to squall," he said. " Feels like it," agreed the sheriff and Jess. In the southwest were gathering drab cloud-masses. They welled out of the serrated peaks there, as if they were being breathed forth by giants ; and misty squalls GRIZZLY DAN ON THE TRAIL 279 of either rain or liail could be seen drifting slowly across the mighty uplifts. This was not an unfamil- iar spectacle, for it always was storming somewhere, within sight, on this high, broken plateau. The ridge which confronted the Circle K squad rose stupendous in a long, steep slope covered thickly with jagged chunks of rock. The color was a dull gray, with the sun's rays here and there glistening upon mica. The footing was loose and treacherous, and only in spots was there trace of a faint trail; but the old trapper slapped his horse with his moccasinned heels, and started up. "Mountain sheep cross over this way," he quoth; ** an' I reckon we can go where they can." The horses stumbled and toiled. " Oh, gee! " quoth diet. " Fm going to get off." And he did. ** A hawss is liable to break a leg. I don't want to have Medicine Eye tumble here while I'm on him." Phil also dismounted; and so did the others, to ease their horses on this insecure way. But the old trapper and Charley the Ute continued to ride. The squad proceeded single file. Where the rocks were too jumbled the trail was lost; but always they emerged upon it again. Grizzly Dan led without a falter. When from the first rock jumble they came out upon an open, smoother tract, of gravel and loose shingle, a great company of speckled birds like chickens ran out from under the horses' hoofs, and chirping gaily pecked about for food as they fearlessly moved among the debris. 28o THE CIRCLE K "Those are ptarmigan/' said Chet. "That's why this country is named Ptarmigan Flats. They turn white in the winter. Aren't they tame, though ! " Evidently there were not many hunters up here to molest them. Little rivulets of water were trickling down, from snow-banks upon the crest of the ridge, above. The route pursued mounted the slope in a long oblique; and from the shingle and gravel the little squad in its single file entered upon snow itself. The sun had suddenly paled; its light faded, and instantly a cool breath fanned across the vast slant of rock and gravel. Clouds were filling the sky above, and now came driving athwart the trail a storm of sleet and hail. " Nice summer weather," called the sheriff, jocu- larly, as they all turned up collars and hunched over, to receive it, while they plodded on. " Now I reckon people down below in Denver or New York'd give a good deal to have this storm in August ! " " Ask that man when we cross the ridge," called Mr. Simms. " Don't cross it," grunted Grizzly Dan. " Not yet for a while. Thar's a little pass, ahead, yonder, whar we can get through an' not be seen. When you're bein' follered keep to the high ground, so you can see; but when you're follerin', keep to the low ground, so you won't be seen; that's my principles." Mr. Simms was silent under this rebuke, and Chet must chuckle. The storm passed, and the sun shone out again. GRIZZLY DAN ON THE TRAIL 281 Now filing along half way up the slope and parallel with the ridge above, the party continued, perspiring in the moisture of sleet-soaked earth and clothing. A queer climate, was this, thirteen thousand feet up in the solitudes. The old trapper veered and cut abruptly to the right, entering a dip or saddle of the ridge. They all fol- lowed. Here in the shelter and the reflected warmth grew amidst the rocks a few flowers, white and pink, like daisies. The old trapper held up his hand, as signal, and rode forward while the others stopped. Chet and Phil, with a sigh of relief, accepted the op- portunity to climb into the saddle again. That had been a hard tramp, over the rocks and shingle, some- times hauling the horses and sometimes almost stepped upon. Grizzly Dan disappeared around a shoulder of the little pass. He was reconnoitering. It must have been half an hour later, and Mr. Simms and Old Jess were fidgeting with impatience, and Pete was grumbling, and the sheriff and Charley, stretched in the sun, had gone to sleep, when he returned. " I don't see 'em," he reported. " But they may be down in thar jest the same. Old Cinnamon flows deep, so's a man can't see out, occasional. But we'll split when we ride down, an' come in ahead an' behind, an' if we don't strike sign I'm much mistook." He shook the lines against his pony's neck, and wheeling led off as before. They pressed through the little pass, all riding expectantly. It was open, smooth, and shallow, and of gentle incline; in five 282 iTHE CIRCLE K minutes they had traversed it, and were upon the verge of the farther slope. The pass debouched upon another wide expanse, where the rock and shingle fell away into a canyon- like vale five hundred feet below. Along the bottom of the vale, wooded, probably by willows, in spots, glinted the waters of a creek; and upon the opposite mighty slope which rose bare and forbidding floated shadows of the clouds. There was room in that vale for armies; and the Circle K squad was hunting for two men. Very small felt Phil, as on this brink he sat his saddle and peered down. " Divide up. Half of you ride to the right, p'intin' about for that snow-patch acrost yonder; the rest of us'll skrimmage off in 'tother direction. When you cross sign, foller it. It'll be thar, or I'm pore bull." Charley the Ute, the sheriff, and Old Jess turned off, and made diagonally down the slope, to the right; Grizzly Dan, Pete, Mr. Simms and the two boys took the left. It was treacherous underfoot, for the shingle and large rocks were loose; but the old trapper sent his horse ahead almost at a trot, and the other horses must keep up with long, plunging strides. Everybody must stand in the stirrups, leaning forward with hand upon saddle-horn. The opposite slope was strangely tinted, with black and reddish-brown; and Phil noted that this slope which they were descending was strewn with blocks of stone also black and reddish-brown as if rusted. The black was dense and flinty, ringing to the hoofs ; the reddish-brown was like rust, staining the black. GRIZZLY DAN ON THE TRAIL 283 Even the shingle was dark, being composed of slabs mottled dark-green and black, in a froggy effect. Down they plunged, in another long diagonal, Grizzly Dan ahead, heavy-barreled rifle now across horn, his shaggy locks tossing to the steps of his horse, as with head up he scanned the vista below. He might have been a Remington figure of some early-day plains or mountain scout. The other party, who had taken the right, were half way down and riding rapidly. Presently a little swell hid them. " They'll reach bottom 'fore wt do," commented Grizzly Dan. " But that's all right. If they find game they'll drive it out whar we can ketch it." Plainly enough the old trapper expected that the man with the limp and the professor his prisoner were down in that creek-bed, and that the divided party would come in behind and ahead of them. As least, the trail would be crossed. There was a rumble in the southwest; by another one of those constant changes of weather in this high country a thunder-storm was swelling above the op- posite slope. But thin and clear was wafted to the little party's ears another sound: the sharp, ringing report of a rifle, " Wagh ! " shouted the old trapper, and his horse leaped forward. " Come on I " cried Chet, spurring Medicine Eye. Phil, not to be out-done, spurred Pepper ; Mr. Simms and Pete lunged in a sudden jump of their mounts 284 THE CIRCLE K also. And they all went pelting down the long, rocky slant, into whose softish face the horses sank above their fetlocks, every jump. This was surely hard riding. It reminded Phil of chasing wild horses — only it was worse. Pete's broad brim flared back in the breeze which he made, and the old trapper's shaggy locks streamed like a mane. Phil hung on to his saddle-horn — and he did not care, for he saw that Chet was doing the same. But the old trapper rode " straight up." He was a corker, was Grizzly Dan. They saw him — the lame man! He was out from the covert where the Cinnamon flowed through chan- nel more constricted, and was into the open vale. He was alone, and he was riding rapidly. *' Wagh ! " again shouted the old trapper. " Thar's the critter. I knowed it. I told you thar'd be sign, or better." Flourishing his long rifle above his head he increased the pace. His spotted pony, keeping the front, plunged on, with stiff forelegs and lowered haunches, making quick goat-like leaps and slides. Snorting and grunting, the other horses raced just behind, spreading in fan shape. "I don't see the professor," panted Chet. "Jim- iny! If he's hurt the professor! '* " I should say ! " bemoaned Phil. Mr. Simms had jerked his six-shooter from the holster at his right thigh, and holding it high as he rode was gazing with lips sternly compressed at that lone, hotly spurring figure below. Phil struggled to draw GRIZZLY DAN ON THE TRAIL 285 his carbine from beneath his leg; but this was no easy matter, with Pepper bucking down that soft slope. Chet was grumbling over the same difficulty, while Pete, with thrill cow-puncher yelps, was trying to catch up with Grizzly Dan. CHAPTER XXII THE SMITING OF THE LAME MAN The lame man had seen them, of course. And it looked as if he was going to beat them. Before they would reach his trail he would have passed. Mr. Simms must have read this, for suddenly he exclaimed : " Some of you men with rifles will have to stop him. I can't, yet." " Give it to him, Phil ! " urged Chet, excited the more over the prospect of their arch enemy getting away. " Can't you give it to him? " There was a crack! crack! — Pete had begun to shoot. Chet's rifle was out, at last, and he, too, pulled trigger. Phil worked hard; his carbine had wedged fast under his leg, and as he tugged almost forced him out of the tossing saddle. But finally (it seemed to him an age, and he was wild with vexation) he got it loose. He momentarily let the reins hang loose on Pepper's neck, while he tried to aim. But who could aim, from such a seat. He fired, and he really was relieved to know that the lame man would be hit only by accident; for it seemed a hideous thing, to draw deliberate and deadly bead upon a human being, no matter how truly he deserved the death. However, if this lame man had killed the professor, who was a ?86 THE SMITING OF THE LAME MAN 287 fine scientist and was Cherry's father ! And Phil hardened his heart, and tried to aim a little more care- fully. " Aw, shucks ! " complained Chet. " Nobody can't hit him." Chet's grammar was apt to be a little off, in great stress of mind like this. The pursuit was surely falling behind. The lame man was full two hundred yards below, and forging ahead. And now the elements were taking a hand. Louder had been pealing the thunder, and down the opposite ridge, so bare and forbidding, was sweeping a line of mist. It was another squall. The lame man defiantly shook his hand at his pursuers, above him. He might have been snapping his fingers at their plight. " Wagh ! " grunted Grizzly Dan." " I can't stand that. You fellers watch ol' Sal. She ain't much on looks, but she's got a long tongue." He reined in his spotted pony, sharply, so that it slid like a rabbit trying to turn, its hind hoofs under- reaching well-nigh beyond its fore hoofs. He clapped his hand against the lock-plate of his muzzle-loader flint-lock, jarring the priming into place; and swiftly and easily raising the heavy weapon to his shoulder, laid eye adown the long barrel. Hauling back hard, the party would hold in their horses also, and await the result of the shot. His hair falling about the rifle-stock, the old man squinted ; the muzzle steadied for an instant, and there broke from it a whiff of smoke and a whip-snapper report. Phil's eyes sprang to the mark, below. The 288 THE CIRCLE K " spat " of the bullet floated upward, and the lame man dived headfirst to the rocks, as his horse lurched to its breast, and rolled, kicking and tossing, upon its side. " Hooray ! " cheered Pete. " Got his boss, anyhow. That was some shot ! " " Come on ! " urged Chet. And they all dashed downward again. But Grizzly Dan, as on the run, in the saddle, he deftly reloaded his cumbersome piece, muttered angrily. " A pore guess, a pore guess,'* he scolded. " Jest an inch higher an' I'd a raised his ha'r, certain." The lame man had quickly left his horse lying and struggling feebly, and turning up the slope opposite was climbing furiously. The squall met him and en- veloped him. He did not pause. Through the veil of mist which now hung straight down between the two slopes, the pursuing party could dimly see him clambering nimbly but laboriously among the shingles and the boulders there. His lameness bothered him — his progress was painful to watch — but he was getting away! Pete was shooting, Chct was shooting, Phil blindly shot; and even Mr. Simms' six-shooter Colt's pealed its challenge. " Can't see, can't see," declared Grizzly Dan, peer- ing. "Drat that storm, anyhow." Only for an instant the veil hung; then it came apace, drifting fast. It caught the party still one hundred and fifty yards from the bottom. The thun- THE SMITING OF THE LAME MAN 289 der fiercely bellowed, the lightning flared, and the horses, turning tail, refused to advance another inch. There was crash after crash, stunning reports like re- ports of dynamite, splitting the very air — but the storm was not rain; it was snow! A snow thunder- storm ! " Snowing up here. Raining below," commented Mr. Simms. Phil felt a violent twitch in the arm which held his carbine, and almost lost his hold. A little ball of fire rolled down the short barrel and dropped from the muzzle. And now the rocks about seemed fairly aflame with the electricity, and shook with inces- sant reports. The horses shivered and shrank. " Wagh ! " exclaimed the old trapper. " This hyar red and black rock is iron rock. We'd better be gettin' out o' hyar. But he's in a wuss fix, over acrost. That's magnet rock, an' it draws lightnin' like a dead buffler draws buzzards." Hunched and powerless to move, with heads twisted they watched the lame man, as, seen so dimly through the driving snow, he still climbed. The lightning flamed and glared all about him — and a dreadful spectacle this was, of the bolts hunting him, amidst the flakes. It seemed as though he was being pelted, not with snow-balls, but with fire-balls. Or it seemed as though an airship might be above him, drop- ping bombs upon him. The lightning was constantly taking the form of these balls of fire, and as he climbed, the lame man dodged and ducked. Some- times he slipped, sometimes he halted, briefly, as if 290 THE CIRCLE K panting and exhausted; but he never cowered nor turned back; he went right along. Twice Grizzly Dan raised his rifle to his shoulder, to sight; and twice he lowered it. " No use burnin' good powder," he grunted. ** An' no use invitin' lightnin', either." The others had quickly thrust their weapons into the scabbards. '' Bad enough sittin' on these here horse-shoes," said Pete. " They must be lightnin' conductors, I reckon." " But I wouldn't be that fellow over there ! " de- clared Mr. Simms. *' He's getting the wust of it." " He shore is," murmured Chet, as if aghast. They watched. Phil was fascinated. He wanted not to look, but he could not help looking. Small and obscure in the storm, this Joe, the lame man, was being made the sport of the lightning. It appeared to be playing with him as a cat plays with a mouse. In a rain of bolts it struck all about him. With shoul- ders high and head down he pushed on, slipping, toiling, staggering, recoiling when a ball burst right in front of him, but clambering again undeterred. Was he going to escape? Was he? Was ? And suddenly rang out Mr. Simms' voice, in tone high and savage. "Got him! It got him!" They all had witnessed; only, the cattleman and sheepman had spoken the first. From the sky above, where even now flecks of blue were showing, two bolts had descended at once; midway to the opposite slope, THE SMITING OF THE LAME MAN 291 right above the laboring lame man they had joined, and falHng in a single streak had enveloped him with a coat of flame. Even yet (he had made such marvel- ous progress) might it have been thought that they had struck and missed, had not the lame man stayed where he was — stayed while the Circle K squad held breath and watched and waited. He did not move ; he made a black and white spot among the other black and white spots. "He's dead!" gasped Chet. Phil's heart beat rapidly. Grizzly Dan bared his head, and passed a hand across his brow. '' The wrath of the Lord is sometimes mighty slow," he said, calmly. " But it's gcner'ly powerful sure. Now we got to find that other man. This one will stay whar he is." The storm was done. That had been practically the last flash. The blue sky was everywhere, again; the cloud enfolding slopes and vale melted as if dis- solved by the sunshine which streamed through, and the snow amidst the rocks began to vanish in a steam- ing vapor. But the black spot remained, sprawled out upon a grayish rock which glistened with wetness in the rays. Picking careful way down the slippery descent, the party reached the bottom. Pete dismounted, and went hastening up again, to the black spot. " Want to see if he's playin' possum," he called back. Watching narrowly, they bided his report. He 292 THE CIRCLE K half circuited, a little above, and approaching slowly, scanned. Then he came plunging down. " That's all," he remarked. " He wore a six- shooter about his neck, an' that's what the lightnin' hit first, I reckon. It's layin' there with its handle burnt plumb off, an' the barrel busted. The ca'tridges must have exploded, for his shirt's torn all to pieces in front an* riddled; an' the soles of his shoes are off, too. I reckon the lightnin' went in at the revolver an' come out at his feet. Anyway, he's considerable dead." Yes, he must be. Phil recalled that he wore his revolver in a Texas sling against his breast, whence he could draw it and fire with wonderful quickness and precision. Mr. Simms could bear attest to that! " I knowed he war dead," said Grizzly Dan. " Now for 'tother man." He turned up the creek, in the direction whence the lame man had come. They all followed. Clatter of hoof, and almost collided with them a loose horse, empty stirrups swinging, bridle lines dangling. With a snort it would have turned, but the old trapper reaching forward, grabbed a rein. ** That's his boss!" exclaimed Pete. "Yes, sir; that's his boss." " That other crowd may have him," suggested Mr. Simms. " Hope so." " I hope he isn't hurt, anyway," spoke Chet to Phil. And Phil nodded. THE SMITING OF THE LAME MAN 293 " We'll jest ride on till we meet up with those fellers," quoth Grizzly Dan. " But 'twon't do any harm to keep an eye out 'long the trail, both sides, in case he got cached away. Too steep, though, right through here. Blame that thar rain an' snow; they washed out the signs." Yes, through here the slopes of either side were too steep for anybody to have climbed and hidden a man; but Phil and Chet kept sharp outlook, right and left, for any possible place. Faintly the bridle trail led among the willows, and these filled the narrow passage between creek and farther bank. *' Ought to be meetin' those fellers, hadn't we ? " hazarded Pete, after about five minutes. " Hear 'em now," declared Grizzly Dan, suc- cinctly. So, in another minute, could Phil. There was sound of hoof striking against stone; and presently there was thud of trotting; and around a curve, where the little gorge widened, suddenly the two squads were face to face. Charley the Ute was foremost, in that second squad. They must be tracking. They did not have the professor. Both squads reined up. "Where's the professor?" queried Mr. Simms. " We got his hawss." The sheriff shook his head. " Haven't seen him. Thought you had him. We heard you shooting. Where's that lame man? Did he get past you ? " Mr. Simms smiled grimly. 294 THE CIRCLE K '* Not quite," he said. " Sure, this time, arc you ? " grunted Old Jess. '* Pete knows. He inspected." Pete grinned, and wagged his big hat. " Considerable dead, when I last saw him," he averred. " Where ? " demanded the sherifif. " Back a ways, up on the side of the moun- tain." " But we didn't do it, Ben," explained Mr. Simms. " It was a bad job taken off our hands — and a bad job well done." '' Lightning," further explained Chet. ** Grizzly Dan shot his hawss, and he was climbing in the rocks. They were magnet rocks and you ought to have seen ! " '' Oho," murmured the sheriff. " So we're at the end of our trail, Charley. Savvy? " Charley, who had been listening intently, nodded. " But we've got to have that professor," objected Mr. Simms. " There are two bosses, along here, so far," said the sheriff. " All w^e had was a glimpse of some- thing, away ahead of us, and we fired a shot for warn- ing and to start things going. But we've been fol- lowing a trail of two bosses. Seems as though those two bosses are accounted for now." "Wall," remarked Grizzly Dan, easily; ** we have the hoss, but you didn't get the man. So I reckon he oughter to be right in here somewhars. Spread out, for sign." THE SMITING OF THE LAME MAN 295 As told, the little gorge of the Cinnamon had here opened to form a small park between flanks more gently sloping, where grew some buck brush and where were scattered ledges and boulders. At Grizzly Dan's words Phil pricked Pepper and rode to the right, just for luck, while Charley and the old trapper moused about for sign, and the others ob- served their movements. And he had not ridden far at all — not more than one hundred yards — when propped, half reclining, under the sharp slant on the up side of a big rock, he came to the pro- fessor ! So quiet and undemonstrative was the figure, that Phil scarcely could believe his eyes; but the figure, disturbed, raised its head and looked around at him observing. " Why-— hello," stammered Phil. " This," addressed the professor, amiably, '* is a very rare specimen of fluorspar." He held out a bit of crystal, which he had been scrutinizing with a pocket magnifying-glass. '' But, goodness sakes, professor! Are you hurt? " exclaimed Phil. He whooped, and beckoned for the others. Then he sprang out of the saddle. *' Can't you get up? " ''Not very well; my feet are tied," informed the professor. "Couldn't you untie them, yourself?" asked Phil, hastening to the knots. " 1 suppose I could ! " admitted the professor, some- what astonished. " Certainly I can. That never oc- 296 THE CIRCLE K curred to me. You see, in the first place my hands, too, were tied. And after I had wriggled them free, I got hold of this fluorspar and I really did not bestow much thought upon my feet." Phil speedily loosed the knots. " But did you hear the shooting, or shouting ? We've been looking for you." " I did hear something," admitted the professor. He beamed upon the rest of the company, now ar- rived and curious. " Well, well," he continued, stiffly arising; *' here we all are again. I'm afraid I must have created quite a commotion. You see, this desperado who captured me, before I knew it, yes- terday noon (I presume that he wished to hold me in order to gain immunity for something that he had done), made me travel so fast and so steadily during the afternoon and early this morning that my horse, not being properly shod, was foot-sore. Then later this morning, when he knew that we were being pursued, after dismounting me he tied my hands and feet and placed a gag in my mouth and stuck me under this great boulder. Then he spurred away, with my horse. No doubt he planned to hide me here, for future use. I managed to free my hands, and to remove the gag, and why I did not loosen my feet, also, I cannot say. So I stayed here, quite uncom- fortable until I chanced to note this specimen of fluorspar, and as I had my pocket glass with me I spent the time very pleasantly and profitably examin- ing the curious phases of the crystal. I heard some gun-shots, and the sound of hoofs, but I was not THE SMITING OF THE LAME MAN 297 certain what I should do or what was happening. I really was thinking more upon the fluorspar than upon being found. But of course I knew that somebody would come. I thank you all. I shall take this fluor-spar back with me and put it in my cabinet." The party were so relieved to find him safe and sound, and were so dumbfounded by his innocent explaining (fancy him waiting for his feet to be un- tied! What an odd man!) that in silence they watched while Phil held his horse and he clambered with a sigh into the saddle. Then Pete spoke . " You don't get out o' my sight again/' he scolded. " I'm goin' to night-herd 3aih an' day-herd yuh, both." " I think you'd better," agreed the professor. " The man with the limp is killed. He'll never bother you or Cherry again," announced Phil, as they rode down again, to the trail. "Dear me," murmured the professor. "How?" " Lightning. We saw it." " How terrible ! " answered the professor, vaguely. "Was there a storm?" But although the professor, with his absent-minded way, made an unsatisfactory hero, he waked up to his late peril when, bringing him back in triumph, they were sighted from the tent by Cherry and Miss Molly. How he was hugged and kissed ! " I had no idea; I had no idea," he avowed, through his beard, as his eyes glistened moistly behind his 298 THE CIRCLE K spectacles, and Cherry hung upon one arm, Miss Molly upon the other. *' But I suppose that I was in some danger." And Miss Molly repeated over and over: " How dreadfully romantic ! " CHAPTER XXIII BACK TO THE LOWLANDS '^ It'll be an 'arly winter," quoth Grizzly Dan. " An' if you don't calkilate to get your sheep snowed in up hyar, you'd better be movin' 'em down." A quaint character was old Grizzly Dan. He was full of stories and expressions of by-gone trapper days; the present was nothing to him, he lived in and loved the past, and never was tired of inform- ing that he was with Fremont the Pathfinder and knew Kit Carson, the mountaineer. And he cer- tainly was wise in the ways of the wilds, was Grizzly Dan. Now it was a full month after the affray when the man with the limp had met his end. The professor's party had moved on, for the lower country and thence for home "out east in Oklahoma," as Pete put it. Cherry had proudly borne away the pelt of the bear, given to her by the old trapper. "A pore pelt, too," he said. "But you can cut it up for a muff, mebbe. Time for b'ar pelts is in the fall an' 'arly spring." But to Cherry it had been a beautiful pelt; and to Miss Molly it had been " romantic," also. They had ridden away — they and the professor and Pete, and the sheriff and Charley with them ; and the camps had 299 300 THE CIRCLE K settled back to the routine of watching over the fat sheep. Grizzly Dan had stayed. He had brought over his own camp — which was only some blankets and skin robes; and had constructed a kind of wigwam or teepee, out of boughs and branches and the skins, among the willows near the boys' tent. They were glad to have him, to vary the monotony of herding, days, and getting supper and going to bed, nights. Occasionally he would mount his spotted pony and ride off and be gone half a week, " jest scoutin' 'round," he claimed; and when he returned it was always with some new story. "Why an early winter, Dan?" asked Phil. " That b'ar was puttin' on fat already, to feed off of in his hole. An' these hyar conies are puttin' away more hay'n ever I saw before, since eleven year ago. When animiles act this how, time for humans to take notice." Yes, it was true that the bear had been unusually fat. And certainly the conies (those rat-like, gopher- like little chaps inhabiting the rock crannies) were ever on the stir, all day long, carrying bristling mouth- fuls of grass and weeds into their hidden nests. But whether old Dan's predictions were believed or not, Mr. Simms decided that it was time, anyway, to seek the lower country. Through long days of sun and of squalls, here high above town and valley, river and forest and mesa, cropping the crisp, tender herb- age of constant spring the sheep had been waxing fat and fatter. Why, those wobbly lambs which had BACK TO THE LOWLANDS 301 been nurtured so carefully when they arrived on the Black Mesa, now could scarcely be distinguished from their elders. Little did the flock guess that following the summer of peace and plenty was impending a w^holesale tragedy; but down in the lower country awaited the shipping pens. Perhaps it was just as well that the flock had no inkling of the fate ahead for many of the members. The drive down promised to be a final joy. Again the camps were packed; and again the Circle K took the trail. By long and easy descent, through- out all the broad eyries of the high plateaus other out- fits likewise were making for the low country, the shipping pens, and thence the winter range ; retreating, they, in good order from the advancing snows which began to sweep down in earnest from the peaks. In truth, Chet and Phil and all the Circle K were satisfied to make the change. Perched up here amidst the sun and frosts, the great expanse of rolling low brush and of crater rock and ashes, never were human beings more isolated, and it seemed to Phil that town and people would frighten him. And yet it was a little hard to leave this free, desolate realm to the winds and drifts of winter. He felt that as soon as the last herder had disappeared over the last ridge, Ptar- migan Flats would have forgotten all about them. But gaily caroled Haney the Texan, as with their band he and Ford led the way down. " Oh, I want to be a sheepman, An' run a woolly band ; Some wool upon my whiskuhs, A sheep-hook in my hand ; 302 THE CIRCLE K The sage-brush foh my pillow. The blue sky foh my roof; An' learn to talk in Baa-baa With mutton on the hoof! " " Yes, suh ; powerful glad to day-herd mutton when it don't bite me," he declared. " But I'm shuah scyared o' smellin' so laike a sheep that caows won't graze where I walk. Aftuh I get down Fm gwine to take a hair-cut an' a bath, an' then I'm gwine to keep on gettin' lower till I'm in ol' Texas. Lots o' fine land in Texas, foh a rancher. Pity the pore caowboy, an' pity the pore sheep-herder; but needn't pity the rich rancher, raisin' hawg an' cohn-pone an' fried chicken. Nevuh want any moh mutton, me. When I see mutton, 'fraid I'll say ' Baa ! ' to it. " The aspens were yellowing by the nightly frosts; the scrub oaks and the sumac were turning brown and orange. Day by day as the downward march pro- ceeded, the country ahead and behind on either hand, as opened the vistas, lay spread gorgeous like an Oriental rug. The grasses had cured to a dead drab, and were heavy with seeds, so that as they went the sheep fed greedily. Grizzly Dan rode a day's journey with the boys; but after the supper he prepared to mount again and return to his camp among the willows up on Ptar- migan. " I'm restless," he said. " Too many folks about, an' too much sheep makin' a noise. I reckon I'll jest spend a few days in quiet high up, an' then I'll make a cache for myself down in a little valley I know of, BACK TO THE LOWLANDS 303 whar the deer stays all winter, an' thar's fodder for the hoss critters, an' whar I can be right comfort'ble. But you two lads come out 'long with me nex' year, an' I'll show you some country an' any animile from b'ar to beaver. We'll see if we can't get whar thar ain't these blame sheep eatin' down the forage an' spoilin' 'arth an' air. We'll make one last big ol'- time hunt, an' live like white Injuns." "/ shore will, if dad'll let me," agreed Chet, his tanned round face flushing. " So will I," agreed Phil. " Wall, you drop me a line, 'long in the spring. Jest * Dan Humphrey, Placer Valley Postoffice, Colo- rado.' I'll get it when I come in after supplies, an' I'll answer tellin' you whar I'll meet you. 'Bout the middle of May is a good time to start in low an' work up." *' We will," they promised. Without another word Grizzly Dan climbed upon his spotted horse and, long rifle in hollow of left arm, long hair veiling his shoulders, in his buckskins and moccasins rode away at trappers' trot through the moonlight. It was still four days to the railroad and the ship- ping-pens. But at last, with the ill-fated sheep destined for the butcher Phil rode in to the station. He must shake hands with Hombre, who remained with the flock reserved for the winter range upon the Utah desert, and must bid him " Adios." But at the station he was to part with Haney and Ford, and Mr. Simms, Old Jess and Chet; and, hardest of all, with Bonita. 304 THE CIRCLE K For it seemed a shame to take Bonita away from tHe sage and the open, and put her into city yard and city streets. No, that would not do. " You can keep her," he said to Chet. " I'll lend her to you. But she's an awful good dog." " She shore is," responded Chet. " And I'll take care of her for you. You can have her back again whenever you want her." " But you'll have to come and get her," decreed Mr. Simms, meaningly. " Well," said Phil, " I will. Maybe we'll take her on our big hunt next summer with Grizzly Dan." The train whistled, approaching. He was to leave on it, ahead of the freight by which the sheep would be shipped. The empty cars for them were standing waiting. After the sheep were shipped, then it was Texas for Haney, Boston for Ford, the Utah desert for Hombre and Old Jess, and town and school for Chet, with his father to guard him. But for Phil it was now once more " Adios " and " Good luck," and " See you again," and then the train, and home, home, home, where sheep were known only as they came upon the table in roasts or chops. He must shake hands all around again. As he did so he suddenly realized what an odd-looking crowd they were — their hair, gray, red, tow, brown, and black, shaggy and uneven and as long, almost, as Grizzly Dan's, their overalls torn and faded, their brogans and boots scuffed and ragged. Veterans they were, who had brought the Circle K sheep safely through from birth to market. Man nor beast nor BACK TO THE LOWLANDS 305 weather had daunted the Circle K, and he felt that they all had won sweaters with the letter upon the front ! But no sweaters were needed. Out this way men did their duty and asked no special reward. Some had the duty of the cow range, some the duty of the sheep range, and there were deeds and honest work in plenty, of various kinds, but of one quality. A man could be a man, wherever he was put. He shook the hands that gripped his earnestly and warmly. He gave Bonita's silky neck another squeeze and her sharp muzzle another loving stroke or two; and, a choking in his throat and a curiously hot mist in his eyes, he sprang aboard — a real Western sheep- herder honorably discharged from service. The familiar blatting of the sheep, in the pens, followed him as a farewell — for he could not look back to see Chet's wave or to risk the reproachful gaze from the puzzled Bonita. FOURTEEN DAY USE RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED This book is due on the last date stamped below, or on the date to which renewed. Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. 8Aug'55HJ inLy.5l955Ll' ^B^iy^?r,r^= Vn^^^r... YC 53273 M13734 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY