rmons, exposed to their peril, making their
cause his cause, their life his life. What of their friendship, their
confidence? Was he worthy? Would he fail at the pinch? What a man he
must become to approach their simple estimate of him! Because he had
found health and strength, because he could shoot, because he had the
fleetest horse on the desert, were these reasons for their friendship?
No, these were only reasons for their trust. August Naab loved him.
Mescal loved him; Dave and George made of him a brother. "They shall
have my life," he muttered.

The bleating of the sheep heralded another day. With the brightening
light began the drive over the sand. Under the cliff the shade was cool
and fresh; there was no wind; the sheep made good progress. But the
broken line of shade crept inward toward the flock, and passed it. The
sun beat down, and the wind arose. A red haze of fine sand eddied
about the toiling sheep and shepherds. Piute trudged ahead leading the
king-ram, old Socker, the leader of the flock; Mescal and Hare rode
at the right, turning their faces from the sand-filled puffs of
wind; August and Dave drove behind; Wolf, as always, took care of the
stragglers. An hour went by without signs of distress; and with half the
five-mile trip at his back August Naab's voice gathered cheer. The sun
beat hotter. Another hour told a different story--the sheep labored;
they had to be forced by urge of whip, by knees of horses, by Wolf's
threatening bark. They stopped altogether during the frequent hot
sand-blasts, and could not be driven. So time dragged. The flock
straggled out to a long irregular line; rams refused to budge till they
were ready; sheep lay down to rest; lambs fell. But there was an end to
the belt of sand, and August Naab at last drove the lagging trailers out
upon the stony bench.

The sun was about two hours past the meridian; the red walls of the
desert were closing in; the V-shaped split where the Colorado cut
through was in sight. The trail now was wide and unobstructed and the
distance short, yet August Naab ever and anon turned to face the canyon
and shook his head in anxious foreboding.

It quickly dawned upon Hare that the sheep were behaving in a way new
and singular to him. They packed densely now, crowding forward, many
raising their heads over the haunches of others and bleating. They
were not in their usual calm pattering hurry, but nervous, excited, and
continually facing west toward t