The Call of the Canyon - Page 62/157

"Nothing doing, Glenn," she interrupted. "I'm going to see what there is

to see."

"But, dear--the men--the way they handle sheep--they'll--really it's no

sight for you," he floundered.

"Why not?" she inquired, eying him.

"Because, Carley--you know how you hate the--the seamy side of things.

And the stench--why, it'll make you sick!"

"Glenn, be on the level," she said. "Suppose it does. Wouldn't you think

more of me if I could stand it?"

"Why, yes," he replied, reluctantly, smiling at her, "I would. But I

wanted to spare you. This trip has been hard. I'm sure proud of you.

And, Carley--you can overdo it. Spunk is not everything. You simply

couldn't stand this."

"Glenn, how little you know a woman!" she exclaimed. "Come along and

show me your old sheep-dip."

They rode out of the woods into an open valley that might have been

picturesque if it had not been despoiled by the work of man. A log fence

ran along the edge of open ground and a mud dam held back a pool of

stagnant water, slimy and green. As Carley rode on the baa-baa of sheep

became so loud that she could scarcely hear Glenn talking.

Several log cabins, rough hewn and gray with age, stood down inside the

inclosure; and beyond there were large corrals. From the other side of

these corrals came sounds of rough voices of men, a trampling of hoofs,

heavy splashes, the beat of an engine, and the incessant baaing of the

sheep.

At this point the members of Hutter's party dismounted and tied their

horses to the top log of the fence. When Carley essayed to get off Glenn

tried to stop her, saying she could see well enough from there. But

Carley got down and followed Flo. She heard Hutter call to Glenn: "Say,

Ryan is short of men. We'll lend a hand for a couple of hours."

Presently Carley reached Flo's side and the first corral that contained

sheep. They formed a compact woolly mass, rather white in color, with a

tinge of pink. When Flo climbed up on the fence the flock plunged as

one animal and with a trampling roar ran to the far side of the corral.

Several old rams with wide curling horns faced around; and some of

the ewes climbed up on the densely packed mass. Carley rather enjoyed

watching them. She surely could not see anything amiss in this sight.

The next corral held a like number of sheep, and also several Mexicans

who were evidently driving them into a narrow lane that led farther

down. Carley saw the heads of men above other corral fences, and there

was also a thick yellowish smoke rising from somewhere.