w more than you think, Grant," said the other, when the big
fellow had stopped swearing to get his breath. While he spoke, the
shepherd was looking away along the Old Trail. "There comes your
trouble now," he added, pointing to a girl on a brown pony, coming
slowly out of the timber near the deer lick. The young man made no
reply. Pete, at sight of the girl, started to his feet, but the
big fellow pulled him down again, and made the boy understand that
he must not betray their position.

When Sammy reached the sheep, she checked her pony, and searched
the hillside with her eyes, while her clear call went over the
mountain, "Oh--h--h--Dad!"

Young Matt shook his head savagely at his companion, and even
Brave was held silent by a low "Be still" from his master.

Again Sammy looked carefully on every side, but lying on the
higher ground, and partly hidden by the trees, the little group
could not be seen. When there was no answer to her second call,
the girl drew a letter from her pocket, and, permitting the pony
to roam at will, proceeded to read.

The big man, looking on, cursed again beneath his breath. "It's
from Ollie," he whispered to his companions. "She stopped at the
house. He says his uncle will give me a job in the shops, and that
it'll be fine for me, 'cause Ollie will be my boss himself. He my
boss! Why, dad burn his sneakin' little soul, I could crunch him
with one hand. I'd see him in hell before I'd take orders from
him. I told her so, too," he finished savagely.

"And what did she say?" asked the shepherd quietly, his eyes on
the girl below.

"Just said, kind o' short like, that she reckoned I could. Then I
come away."

The girl finished her letter, and, after another long call for
Dad, moved on over the shoulder of the mountain. Pete, who had
withdrawn a little way from his companions, was busily talking in
his strange manner to his unseen friends.

Then Young Matt opened his heart to the shepherd and told him all.
It was the old, old story; and, as Mr. Howitt listened, dreams
that he had thought dead with the death of his only son, stirred
again in his heart, and his deep voice was vibrant with emotion as
he sought to comfort the lad who had come to him.

While they talked, the sun dropped until its lower edge touched
the top of the tallest pine on Wolf Ridge, and the long shadows
lay over the valley below. "I'm mighty sorry I let go and cuss,
Dad," finished, the boy. "But I keep a holdin' in