y were above the timber-line, rested in the
shadow of the high rocks. This rough land seemed to be the favorite
place for their sports, and Donald and his father were never tired
watching them.

A single sheep would mount a boulder, from which vantage ground he would
stand looking down at the herd. In a moment several of the flock would
rush forward, butt him from the rock, and one of them would take his
place, only to be driven down and succeeded by the next victor. The
sheep often played this for a long time.

"It is a good game, too," declared Sandy, "for to rush up the side of a
high rock like that and not slip back makes them sure-footed."

Another game the flock sometimes played was Follow the Leader, one old
ewe marching ahead, followed by a line of sheep that went wherever she
led them.

"They play it almost as well as we did at school," said Donald, much
amused.

"That is a useful game too," went on Sandy. "By playing it the young
lambs learn to follow the others, and do what they do. That is one way
they get training to keep in the herd and obey the mind of the leader.
It is really more of a lesson than a game. I suspect, though, they are
like us--so long as they think it is a game they like to play it.
Perhaps, now, if we were to hint to them it was a lesson they might
never play it again."

Donald chuckled.

There were many times when it seemed to him that Sandy must be a boy of
fourteen instead of a man of forty; yet the next moment the Scotchman
would address him with the gravity of a grandfather, and immediately
Donald felt very young indeed. A strange mixture of youth and wisdom was
Sandy McCulloch!

As the lambs were now old enough to travel with the flock there was no
further need for the Mexicans to linger on the range, and they therefore
went back over the trail to busy themselves at the home ranch until
shearing time. The camp-tender, too, did not now take time to make the
difficult journey up into the mountains, but left supplies at a given
spot in the lower pastures, or met some of the party half-way and
delivered over the provisions. If the rations were left it fell to the
lot of one of the campers on the upper range to ride down on the pony
and bring back "the grub," as Sandy called it. Once when Mr. Clark went
down it was only to find that the supplies had been scented out by a
bear and dragged away; in consequence the party on the mountain were
forced to get on without bread or fres