"His coat is thicker than that of most bears at this season of the year.

It will make a bonny rug for your father"s office, Don. When the camp-tender comes we will send it back by him to the home ranch.

Thornton can get it cured for you at Glen City and it will be a sightly present for your father. You are a son worth having!"

"I want to be, Sandy."

"Dinna bother your head. I"ve seen full a dozen lads worse than you!"

was the grim reply.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER VII

A NARROW ESCAPE

It was not long before Donald felt almost as at home in the hill country as did Sandy himself. They pitched camp and stayed in one place until the grazing began to get scarce; then they "pulled up" and tramped on.

Sandy knew the region well and was therefore seldom at a loss to find water-holes. During the night they watched the flock, and as soon as the herd had fed in the morning and was ready to come to rest they left the dogs on guard and slept. Donald usually slept soundly, for the fresh air and exercise kept him in perfect health. Sandy, on the other hand, slept with one eye open--or one ear open--the boy could never quite decide which it was. But the result was the same; by some mysterious means Sandy was always conscious of every move of his flock.

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

To his dogs he was a G.o.d! Still, with all their devotion, the collies evidently understood that the sheep were their first care and they never deserted their watch to accompany Sandy when he went on a hunt for water-holes or more abundant feeding grounds. They were wonderfully intelligent animals--these collies. Donald constantly marveled at their cleverness. They were quick in singling out the slow or wayward sheep and would bite their heels to hurry them along. They also recognized the leaders and it was to them that they communicated the directions Sandy gave them. Yet Sandy seldom spoke to his dogs. A motion of his arm and they would spring forward and follow out his wish. Only when he commanded it did they bark. With their drooping, bushy tails and sharp noses they reminded Donald far more of wolves than dogs. Sandy was kind to all of them, but it was Robin and Prince Charlie of which he was most fond. They had been bred from dogs his father had brought from the Old Country, he explained to Donald. There were few persons in the world for whom he cared so much. Once when Robin had been lost on the range the herder had traveled the hills three whole days to find him.

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

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

"But how do you train them so they won"t?"

"I will tell you. It seems a heartless sort of way, but I had to do it.

I tied them with a long piece of rope; then I called them. As soon as they came I spanked them good and hard, and afterward I"d pat them and give them a sc.r.a.p of meat. They understood in time. They would come anyway--sure thing. If I whacked "em it was all the same to them. By and by when they got so they would mind, I didn"t have to whack "em, and now it is seldom I lay hand to "em. It was no pleasure to me, I can tell you, and I quit it just as soon as I felt sure they would walk up like gentlemen whenever I spoke, no matter if they knew beforehand that they were to be whipped. You can see why this had to be, Don. Of course you know such dogs have the nature of wolves. In fact the better the shepherd dog, the more like a wolf he is. Now a wolf is a born enemy of sheep. Sometimes the wolf in a shepherd dog will get the better of him and he will turn about and kill the lambs instead of guarding them. If a sheep-dog is once a killer he has to die. You can never be sure of him again. So you cannot turn a dog loose on the range unless he will come to you when you speak."

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

"That is just it! He must come even if he knows he is to be shot the next minute. There is no safety for the sheep unless it is so. My dogs would come to me w.i.l.l.y-nilly."

"Isn"t it wonderful?"

"Yes, unless you have been months and months, as I was, getting them to do it; and even then it is rather wonderful. But a thing quite as wonderful as that is that they know every sheep in the flock. Let a ewe from another fold come in and they will scent her quick as lightning.

And there is something else they will do: they understand well as ourselves that sheep will walk right over ledges and into pits, one after another; so the collies will stand guard at the edges of such places and warn "em off. What is that but human, I ask you?"

Donald nodded.

"The men down at Crescent say," went on Sandy smiling broadly, "that I am daffy about dogs--my own dogs most of all. Well, haven"t I cause?

There is not a shepherd in this part of the country but would swap his collies for mine; or they"d buy them. I"ve been offered many a dollar for the two. But I"m no swapping my dogs, nor selling them, either!

Sometimes, you know, we fat up sheep for the market and sell them as muttons. We then have to get the sheep into cars to send them off and it is no so easy if they haven"t the mind to go. Well, you should see Robin and the Prince at the job. They will run right along the backs of the herd, biting the necks of the leaders until they get them aimed where they want "em to go; then they"ll nip the heels of the others till they march up the planks into the cars neat as a line of soldiers. Or they will drive a flock onto a boat the same way. It is a great thing to get dogs that can do that. It takes more wit than a man has. Once a sheep-raiser from California saw Robin down at Glen City getting a lot of sheep off to Chicago on the train and he was hot for having him. He offered me into the hundreds if I would let him take the collie back with him."

"And you wouldn"t sell?"

"The money ain"t coined would tempt me to part with either of my dogs!"

Sandy replied, with a contented shake of his head.

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

There were many of these long silences during those days on the hills and to his surprise Donald had come to enjoy them. At first he had looked forward eagerly to the coming of the camp-tender, who made his rounds three times a week. Not only did this Mexican bring fresh-baked bread, cold meat, and condensed milk to add to the campers" stock of salt pork, lentils, and coffee, but he brought messages from the outside world; gossip from the other herders; and now and then a letter from Donald"s father. These visits were as exciting as to meet an ocean liner at sea. Gradually, however, Donald looked forward less and less to seeing the tiny Mexican burros with their loaded paniers wend their way up the hillsides. He grew into the shepherd life until like Sandy he found himself courting the sense of isolation and almost resenting the intrusion of the camp-tender.

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

"What a lot of things people say that they don"t need to, Sandy," he observed to the Scotchman one day.

Sandy chuckled outright.

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

"I didn"t know you had a brother, Sandy!" exclaimed Donald, in surprise.

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

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

"What became of him--that"s a question that I wish I could answer! He came to Crescent Ranch years ago with my father and me and was about the place for a long time. But he was all for the city. He hated the quiet of the hills. He wanted to be seeing people and to be around in the rush of things, and he begged my father to let him go to some big place and find a job. My father was ever a strict man and he would have none of the youngster"s going off by himself. There came a day, though, when the lad was so sore and unhappy that my father bid him set off for the East. There was no other way to satisfy the boy. But it was a sad time for my father--and for me, too."

"Where did he go?"

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

"Does my father know this?"

"Likely not."

"May I tell him?"

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

"I can"t see why a boy should want to," declared Donald. "Why, my father and I are--well, we are the greatest friends in the world! I like to be with him better than any one else."

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

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

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

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

"And wherefore?"