nking sheep, devastating sheep, Dot sheep. On
the south side of the coulee, up on the bluff, grazed the band. They fed
upon the brow of the hill opposite the ranch buildings; they squeezed
under the fence and spilled a ragged fringe of running, gray animals
down the slope. Half a mile away though the nearest of them were, the
murmur of them, the smell of them, the whole intolerable presence of
them, filled the Happy Family with an amazed loathing too deep for
words.

Technically, that high, level stretch of land bounding Flying U coulee
on the south was open range. It belonged to the government. The soil was
not fertile enough even for the most optimistic of "dry land" farmers to
locate upon it; and this was before the dry-land farming craze had swept
the country, gathering in all public land as claims. J. G. Whitmore
had contented himself with acquiring title to the whole of the Flying
U coulee, secure in his belief that the old order of things would not
change, in his life-time, at least, and that the unwritten law of the
range land, which leaves the vicinity of a ranch to the use of the ranch
owner, would never be repealed by new customs imposed by a new class of
people.

Legally, there was no trespassing of the Dots, beyond the two or three
hundred which had made their way through the fence. Morally, however,
and by right of custom, their offense would not be much greater if they
came on down the hill and invaded the Old Man's pet meadows, just beyond
the "little pasture."

Ladies may read this story, so I am not going to pretend to repeat the
things they said, once they were released from dumb amazement. I should
be compelled to improvise and substitute--which would remove much of the
flavor. Let bare facts suffice, at present.

They saddled in haste, and in haste they rode to the scene. This, they
were convinced, was the band herded by the bug-killer and the man from
Wyoming; and the nerve of those two almost excited the admiration of the
Happy Family. It did not, however, deter them from their purpose.

Weary, to look at him, was no longer in the mood to preach patience and
a turning of the other cheek. He also made that change of heart manifest
in his speech when Pink, his eyes almost black, rode up close and
gritted at him:

"Well, what's the orders now? Want me to go back and get the wire
nippers so we can let them poor little sheep down into the meadow? Maybe
we better ask the herders down to have some