for me, too."

"Where did he go?"

"To some city on the coast, I dinna just know where. We were ever
thinking he would come back some day--but he never did. It is years now
since I have had tidings from him. But sometimes when I am here by
myself I cannot but wonder where he is and what has become of him. He'd
be a man near twenty-five now."

"Does my father know this?"

"Likely not."

"May I tell him?"

"Aye, to be sure. No boy should have secrets from his father."

"I can't see why a boy should want to," declared Donald. "Why, my father
and I are--well, we are the greatest friends in the world! I like to be
with him better than any one else."

"So I figure. He must be thinking now and again that he'd like a sight
of you at Crescent instead of seeing Thornton every day."

"What sort of a man is Thornton, Sandy?"

"What sort of a man do you take him to be?"

"I do not like him!" was the prompt reply.

"And wherefore?"

"Oh, I--don't--know."

"A poor reason. Dinna say that about any man until you get a better
one."

Donald colored.

Sandy had dropped many a curt word that had brought the boy up,
standing. Whatever else the young herder was he was just. Not only did
Donald's liking, but his respect for him, increase.

Ah, what happy days they passed together! Donald became so attached to
the various camps that he hated to leave them. Sometimes he and Sandy
would stay in a spot a week, sometimes ten days; then onward and upward
over the great plateaus of the mountains they made their way. These flat
reaches of pasture-land were like huge steps. It was hard to realize
that they were constantly climbing. Yet up, up, up they went! Each camp
was several hundred feet higher than the last. As they went on the
pasturage became richer, the air cooler. Clear streams from melting,
snowy summits rushed along, leaving pathways of music behind them. With
a hawk's keenness Sandy chose the most fertile stretches of grass for
the flock.

"The weight of the clip depends on good grazing," he explained to
Donald.

"The clip?"

"Aye, the wool. Wool is sold by the pound, you must know. The better the
feed, the thicker the wool. We must look out, though, for poisoned
meadows. There do be many in this region."

"Poisoned meadows!"

"Fields where poison herbage grows. Hundreds of sheep lose their lives
devouring poisonous weeds. Keep your eye out for signs, laddie."

"Signs! Signs up here!"

"Where else? That i