d by the Indians with offerings
of milk and tender chickens; of primitive life on the _haciendas_ of
Sonora, where men served their masters for life and were rewarded at
the end with a pension of beans and _carne seco_.

Then as the day waned they sat at peace in the _ramada_, Moreno and
Creede smoking, and Hardy watching the play of colors as the sun
touched the painted crags of the Bulldog and lighted up the square
summit of Red Butte across the river, throwing mysterious shadows into
the black gorge which split it from crown to base. Between that high
cliff and the cleft red butte flowed the Salagua, squirming through
its tortuous canyon, and beyond them lay Hidden Water, the unknown,
whither a single man was sent to turn back the tide of sheep.

In the silence the tinkle of bells came softly from up the canyon and
through the dusk Hardy saw a herd of goats, led by a long-horned ram,
trailing slowly down from the mesa. They did not pause, either to rear
up on their hind feet for browse or to snoop about the gate, but filed
dutifully into their own corral and settled down for the night.

"Your goats are well trained, Don Pablo," said Hardy, by way of
conversation. "They come home of their own accord."

"Ah, no," protested Moreno, rising from his chair. "It is not the
goats but my goat dogs that are well trained. Come with me while I
close the gate and I will show you my flock."

The old gentleman walked leisurely down the trail to the corral, and
at their approach Hardy saw two shaggy dogs of no breed suddenly
detach themselves from the herd and spring defiantly forward.

"_Quita se, quita se!"_ commanded Don Pablo, and at his voice they
halted, still growling and baring their fangs at Hardy.

"_Mira_," exclaimed the old man, "are they not _bravo_? Many times the
_borregueros_ have tried to steal my bucks to lead their timid sheep
across the river, but Tira and Diente fight them like devils. One
Summer for a week the _chivas_ did not return, having wandered far up
into the mountains, but in the end Tira and Diente fetched them safely
home. See them now, lying down by the mother goat that suckled them;
you would not believe it, but they think they are goats."

He laughed craftily at the idea, and at Hardy's eager questions.

"_Seguro_," he said, "surely I will tell you about my goat dogs, for
you Americans often think the Mexicans are _tonto_, having no good
sense, because our ways are different. When I percei