rom which to start the march.

Pedro called the two men at the appointed hour, and they reached the flock
just in time for the bedding down. Immediately all hands went through the
sheep, removing bells from the animals that usually wore them, and
fastening them about the necks of those delegated to act as a blind and
cover the advance of the main body.

To a Bar T cow-puncher who knew anything about sheep, the evening scene
would have exhibited nothing out of the ordinary. From the reclining
hundreds came the soft bleating of ewes calling their young, which is only
heard at the daily bedding, the low-toned blethering of the others of the
flock, and the tinkle of bells.

Beside the cook wagon the fire glowed in the trench, and everything seemed
to be progressing normally.

Twilight came early among the trees and brush near the river, but it was
not until absolute darkness had descended over the vast expanse of prairie
that Larkin gave the order to march. Then the main body of the herd, with
Sims at its head, the dogs flanking and Bud bringing up the rear on
horseback, moved silently out toward the unknown hazards of the hogback
pass.

Pedro and his hundred had been ordered to wait fifteen minutes, until the
head of the column should have almost reached the shelter of the hogback.
This he did, and then headed his small flock straight up the open prairie
of the range, amid a chorus of bells and loud-voiced protest. Larkin, half
a mile away, heard these sounds and smiled grimly, for the flocks before
him made scarcely any sound at all.

In the darkness ahead he could hear the low voices of the men talking to
the dogs and encouraging the unresponsive sheep. Overhead were the
brilliant, low-swinging stars that gave just enough light to show him the
trend of the long, heaving line.

For another half-hour there was silence. The sounds of Pedro and his
flock became fainter as the two bodies diverged from each other. Now the
dark wall of the hogback rose up on Larkin's left; the last of the flock
was behind shelter. The going was rough and Pinte chose each step
carefully, but the sheep made good progress, because there was no grass to
tempt them.

After another long space, broken only by the clatter of hard little feet
on stone, distant shots rang out, accompanied by faint yells, and Larkin
knew that Pedro had met with the first of the Bar T outfit.

The sheepman was resigned to losing the hundred, just as cattlemen do