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

"I guess that was a smooth-skinned sheep," laughed Donald, "or the
shearer never could have done it so quickly."

The man who was shearing overheard him.

"It was a smooth-skinned one," he called. "Still, even the wrinkly
Merinos loose their coats pretty fast. Watch and see. I have one right
here."

Donald watched.

It was fascinating.

"I'd like to try it," he said glancing up at his father.

"I guess you'd have trouble!"

"I wouldn't mind the trouble if I wasn't afraid of cutting the sheep,"
replied the boy.

"Suppose you leave it until you come West the next time," called Sandy,
who chanced to be passing and heard his words. "You mustn't do
everything this trip, or you'll have nothing to look forward to when you
come again."

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

[Illustration: "I'D LIKE TO TRY IT"]

"I shouldn't wonder!" answered Donald good-naturedly.

But what a charm there was in that crisp snip of the shears!

At last, however, Donald and his father moved on to where crews of men
were busy at smooth board tables.

"What are they doing here?" Donald asked.

"They are tying fleeces," explained Mr. Clark.

"But don't they wash that dirty wool before they tie it up?" questioned
the boy, astounded.

Sandy, who had joined them for the moment, laughed at Donald's disgust.

"You'd have us washing and ironing it, perhaps," he chuckled. "No, no!
We used to wash all fleeces before they were clipped, 'tis true. But
your father says that now buyers care little for them washed. Folks will
pay about as much for good wool unwashed as washed. It is a lucky thing
for us, because it saves us much trouble; more than that, it is better
for the sheep not to be put through the water. The thick fleece stays
damp for many days, and unless the creature is range-bred and therefore
used to all weather it suffers a shock, and is liable to be sick. You
can't shear a flock until about two weeks after washing, for not only
must the fleece dry, but new yolk must form in the wool. If the wool is
too dry the shears will not sl