ing sheep.

"She's afraid of that 'breed,'" he thought, and tried to find comfort in
telling himself that there was no occasion for alarm, with her mother,
hard-visaged as she was, within call. Yet as unconsciously he kept
glancing back at the lonely roadhouse, sprawling squat and ugly on the
desolate sweep of sand and sagebrush, the only sign of human habitation
within the circle of the wide horizon, he had the same sinking feeling
at the heart which came to him when he had to stand helpless watching a
coyote pull down a lamb. It was in vain he argued that there was nothing
to do but what he had done--go on and mind his own business--for the
child's despairing, reproachful eyes followed him and his uneasiness
remained with him after he had reached the water hole. While the sheep
grazed after drinking he pulled the pack from the burro that carried his
belongings. From among the folds of a little tepee tent he took out a
marred violin case and laid it carefully on the ground, apart. A couple
of cowhide paniers contained his meager food supply and blackened
cooking utensils. These, with two army blankets, some extra clothing and
a bell for the burro, completed his outfit.

The sheep dog lay with his head on his paws, following every movement
with loving eyes.

The sheepherder scraped a smooth place with the side of his foot, set up
his tepee and spread the blankets inside. Then he built a tiny sagebrush
fire, filled his battered coffee pot at the spring in the "draw," threw
in a small handful of coffee, and, when the sagebrush was burned to
coals, set it to boil. He warmed over a few cooked beans in a lard can,
sliced bacon and laid it with great exactness in a long-handled frying
pan and placed it on the coals. Then unwrapping a half dozen cold
baking-powder biscuits from a dish towel he put them on a tin cover on
the ground near a tin cup and plate and a knife and fork.

The man moved lightly, with the deftness of experience, stopping every
now and then to cast a look at the sheep that were slowly feeding back
preparatory to bedding down. And each time he did so, his eyes
unconsciously sought the road in the direction from which he had come,
and as often his face clouded with a troubled frown.

When the bacon was brown and the coffee bubbled in the pot, he sat down
crosslegged with his plate in his lap and the tin cup beside him on the
ground. He ate hungrily, yet with an abstracted expression, which showed
that hi