ntry is doing much on the
range beside merely issuing permits for us to graze there."

"What sort of things?"

"Sandy knows; he'll show you. In spite of the fact that he was born a
Scotchman he is as good an American as I know. He appreciates the
benefits of this wonderful land enough to desire to be a helpful,
law-abiding citizen. He does not accept all the advantages America
offers without giving something in return, you see."

"Sandy is too proud to take everything for nothing, father."

"He is also too honest, son. Now go and get your camping traps together.
I expect by afternoon to have a telegram that will answer in place of
permits until they can be mailed to us. As soon as they come you and
Sandy can start off; and in case they do not come to-day I can send them
after you by a mounted messenger. So I think you'd better set out
anyway. Wear your tramping shoes and carry your sleeping-bag. You better
ask Sandy if there is anything else he wants you to take."

Donald needed no second bidding.

He was in the highest of spirits.

An hour later and he had said good-bye to his father and Thornton, and
was on his way to the range with Sandy McCulloch. At their backs a band
of about two thousand sheep ambled along, the four dogs, Robin, Prince
Charlie, Colin, and Hector, dashing in and out among them to keep the
stragglers well in the path.

The trail Sandy was following led across the open fields and ascending
gradually, made for the chain of low hills faintly outlined in the
far-away blue haze. Beyond these hills loomed more distant mountains,
their tops capped with snow. These mountains, Sandy told Donald, were
the foot-hills of the Rockies.

It was quite evident that Sandy was now in his element. He swung along
with slow but steady gait, carrying his pack easily and swinging his
staff. His eye was alert for every movement of the flock. Now he would
turn and draw some straying creature into place by putting his crook
around one of its back legs. Sometimes he would motion the dogs to drive
the herd along faster.

To an eastern-bred lad who had lived all his life in a city the scene
was wonderfully novel. The great blue stretch of sky seemed endless. How
still the country was! Had it not been for the muffled tramp of hoofs,
the low bleating of the herd, the flat-toned note of the sheep-bells,
there would not have been a sound. The quiet of the day cast its spell
everywhere. Sandy, who was usually chary enoug