was nothing to fear, and the circling motion was gradually becoming
slower and slower. In a quarter of an hour comparative quiet had been
restored, and Sims gave the order to get the flock under way. Since they
had not come upon water at this place, as the herder had hoped, it was
necessary to continue the merciless drive until they found it.

Immediately the dogs cut into the dirty-white revolving mass (the smell of
which is like no other in the world), and headed the leaders north. But
the leaders and tail-enders were inextricably mixed, and for a long time
there was great confusion.

Sheep on the march have one invariable position, either among the leaders,
middlers or tailers, and until each animal has found his exact post,
nothing whatever can be done with him.

Until night fell the animals fed on the dry bunch-grass, and then, under
the trotting of the dogs, took position on the brow of a rising hill, as
though bedding down for the night. But all did not rest, for perhaps fifty
remained standing in the perpetual flock-watch.

In an hour these would lie down and others take their places, but all
through the night, and at any time when the flock rested, this hereditary
protection would become operative--seemingly a survival of a day when
neither man nor dog had assumed this duty.

The cook dug his trench, built his fire and set his folding table out
under the pale sky that was just commencing to show brilliant stars. After
the last cup of steaming coffee had been downed and pipes lighted, Sims
gave the order to march. The herd was nearly still now, and roused with
much complaining, but the dogs were inexorable, and presently the two
thousand were shuffling on, feeding now and then, but making good
progress.

There was but one thing left to do in the present instance--find running
water, for it was certain that all the springs on the plain would have
been visited by cattle, and that, therefore, the sheep would stand by and
idly perish of thirst.

Sims knew his country, and directed the flock toward a shallow, rocky ford
of the Big Horn, some five miles distant. In the meantime Bud Larkin was
facing two alternatives, either one disastrous. The crossing of the Big
Horn meant a declaration of war to the Bar T ranch, for in the loose
division of the free country, the Bar T range extended south to the
river.

On the other hand, should he turn the herds east along the bank of the Big
Horn, it would be impossible t