come in and speak to you and Donald, Mr. Clark?"

Mr. Clark laid down his book. He always enjoyed a talk with Sandy.

"Certainly," he answered. "Come up by the fire, Sandy. The chilly
evenings still hang on, don't they?"

"They do so. I'm thinking, Mr. Clark, that now Thornton is back again it
is time I started for the range. Some of the herders have gone already,
as you know; the rest will be off to-morrow. I ought to be getting under
way soon if I want to land my flock in high, cool pasturage before the
heat comes."

"Very true, Sandy. I have kept you behind because your aid in starting
off the wagons and the other herders was invaluable. But, as you say,
there is no need to detain you longer. How soon could you get away?"

"I could start to-morrow if I had my permit."

"How is that?"

"As you remember, sir, we must have permits to graze on the range. You
have paid enough money to the government to realize that."

"Yes, indeed. And I never grudge the money, either."

"What are permits, Sandy?" put in Donald eagerly.

"Well, laddie, long ago people who raised horses and sheep wandered over
all the mountainsides with their herds, and fed them wherever grass was
plenty. It was free land. Anybody could graze there. It was a fine thing
for a man with thousands of sheep not to have to pay a cent for their
food, wasn't it?"

"Of course."

"You would have thought there would have been enough for everybody to
feed their stock peaceably, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, indeed!"

"Well now, it didn't work out so at all. The sheepmen and the cattlemen
came to actual war. The cattlemen declared that their herds would not
graze where the sheep had been because of some queer odor the sheep left
behind them; they argued, moreover, that sheep gnawed the grass off so
close to the roots that they destroyed the crop and left barren land.
The sheepmen, on the other hand, complained because the cattle--loving
to stand in the water--waded into the water-holes and spoiled them. Each
faction tried to crowd the other off the range. Dreadful things
happened. Vaqueros, or cowboys, would dash on horseback right into the
midst of a flock and scatter the sheep in every direction. Often many of
the sheep fled into the hills and their owners never could find them
again. Or sometimes the cowboys would drive the sheep ahead of them over
high precipices. Cattlemen, being on horseback, had a great scorn for
sheep-herders, who were obliged to trai