the range temporarily
exhausted.

From his camp the herder goes forth at daybreak with his flock of
fourteen hundred ewes and lambs or two thousand wethers, grazing slowly
toward the creek or neighboring water-hole where at noon he lies up in
the shade; and to it he slowly returns in the cool of the afternoon, the
flock moving in loose order among the mesquites, taking a nip here, a
nip there, but ever hanging together and dependent, the most gregarious
of animals. In their unity of action, in their interdependence and
solidarity, the timid sheep are capable of a momentary suggestion of
awe. About weaning-time a couple of large flocks got temporarily
together, and one could see driven by the herder a compact mass of four
thousand advancing over the prairie with a quick step, "a unit in
aggregate, a simple in composite," their impassible countenances gazing
fixedly forward, resembling, it seemed to me, a brigade going into
action. For most of the year it is thought by no means advisable to fold
the sheep in the corral at night, so they sleep at large near it.
Especially on moonlight nights they are apt to be uneasy and to move
from their bed-ground short distances, when the herder quits his tent,
and, rolling a cigarette, follows his fanciful flock about the blanched
and wistful prairie till they subside; then, throwing his cloak over his
shoulder with the swing of an hidalgo, he falls asleep beside them.

The herder's incidents are the fortnightly arrival of his rations and
the weekly or possibly more frequent visit of the superintendent to
count and examine his flock and inquire after the general condition of
things. The Mexican herder invariably denies all knowledge of English
and compels one to meet him on his own ground, which, it is needless to
say, is a far cry from Castile; and in encounters between Juan and the
superintendent the fine feathers of syntax are apt to fly in a way I
shall not attempt to reproduce.

"Good-afternoon, Juan," says the superintendent.

"Good-afternoon, senor."

"How's the flock, Juan?"

"Oh, pretty well, senor."

"No better than pretty?"

"No, senor."

"How's that?"

And then Juan goes on to explain that the recent unusually wet weather
has made many lame, etc., etc., to which the superintendent listens with
a grave countenance. Perhaps some unfortunate ewe has been bitten by a
"cat," or in some way received a wound in which the fly has deposited
its malignant egg: they la