V. Black Sage and Juniper

by Thomas Bailey Aldrich

　　AUGUST NAAB appeared on the path leading from his fields.

　　"Mescal, here you are," he greeted. "How about the sheep?"

　　"Piute's driving them down to the lower range. There are a thousandcoyotes hanging about the flock."

　　"That's bad," rejoined August." Jack, there's evidently some realshooting in store for you. We'll pack to-day and get an early startto-morrow. I'll put you on Noddle; he's slow, but the easiest climber Iever owned. He's like riding . . . What's the matter with you? What'shappened to make you angry?"

　　One of his long strides spanned the distance between them.

　　"Oh, nothing," said Hare, flushing.

　　"Lad, I know of few circumstances that justify a lie. You've met Snap."

　　Hare might still have tried to dissimulate; but one glance at August'sstern face showed the uselessness of it. He kept silent.

　　"Drink makes my son unnatural," said Naab. He breathed heavily as one inconflict with wrath. "We'll not wait till to-morrow to go up on theplateau; we'll go at once."

　　Then quick surprise awakened for Hare in the meaning in Mescal's eyes; hecaught only a fleeting glimpse, a dark flash, and it left him with a glowof an emotion half pleasure, half pain.

　　"Mescal," went on August, "go into the house, and keep out of Snap's way.Jack, watch me pack. You need to learn these things. I could put allthis outfit on two burros, but the trail is narrow, and a wide pack mightbump a burro off. Let's see, I've got all your stuff but the saddle;that we'll leave till we get a horse for you. Well, all's ready."

　　Mescal came at his call and, mounting Black Bolly, rode out toward thecliff wall, with Wolf trotting before her. Hare bestrode Noddle.August, waving good-bye to his women-folk, started the train of burrosafter Mescal.

　　How they would be able to climb the face of that steep cliff puzzledHare. Upon nearer view he discovered the yard-wide trail curving upwardin cork-screw fashion round a projecting corner of cliff. The stone wasa soft red shale, and the trail had been cut in it at a steep angle. Itwas so steep that the burros appeared to be climbing straight up. Noddlepattered into it, dropped his head and his long ears and slackened hispace to patient plodding. August walked in the rear.

　　The first thing that struck Hare was the way the burros in front of himstopped at the curves in the trail, and turned in a space so small thattheir four feet were close together; yet as they swung their packs theyscarcely scraped the wall. At every turn they were higher than he was,going in the opposite direction, yet he could reach out and touch them.He glanced up to see Mescal right above him, leaning forward with herbrown hands clasping the pommel. Then he looked out and down; alreadythe green cluster of cottonwoods lay far below. After that sensationspressed upon him. Round and round, up and up, steadily, surely, thebeautiful mustang led the train; there were sounds of rattling stones,and click of hoofs, and scrape of pack. On one side towered theiron-stained cliff, not smooth or glistening at close range, but of dull,dead, rotting rock. The trail changed to a zigzag along a seamed andcracked buttress where ledges leaned outward waiting to fall. Then asteeper incline, where the burros crept upward warily, led to a levelledge heading to the left.

　　Mescal halted on a promontory. She, with her windblown hair, the gleamof white band about her head, and a dash of red along the fringedleggings, gave inexpressible life and beauty to that wild, jagged pointof rock, sharp against the glaring sky.

　　"This is Lookout Point," said Naab. "I keep an Indian here all the timeduring daylight. He's a peon, a Navajo slave. He can't talk, as he wasborn without a tongue, or it was cut out, but he has the best eyes of anyIndian I know. You see this point commands the farm, the crossing, theNavajo Trail over the river, the Echo Cliffs opposite, where the Navajossignal to me, and also the White Sage Trail."

　　The oasis shone under the triangular promontory; the river with itsrising roar wound in bold curve from the split in the cliffs. To theright white-sloped Coconina breasted the horizon. Forward across theCanyon line opened the many-hued desert.

　　"With this peon watching here I'm not likely to be surprised," said Naab."That strip of sand protects me at night from approach, and I've neverhad anything to fear from across the river."

　　Naab's peon came from a little cave in the wall; and grinned the greetinghe could not speak. To Hare's uneducated eye all Indians resembled eachother. Yet this one stood apart from the others, not differing inblanketed leanness, or straggling black hair, or bronze skin, but in thebird-of-prey cast of his features and the wildness of his glitteringeyes. Naab gave him a bag from one of the packs, spoke a few words inNavajo, and then slapped the burros into the trail.

　　The climb thenceforth was more rapid because less steep, and the trailnow led among broken fragments of cliff. The color of the stones hadchanged from red to yellow, and small cedars grew in protected places.Hare's judgment of height had such frequent cause for correction that hegave up trying to estimate the altitude. The ride had begun to tell onhis strength, and toward the end he thought he could not manage to staylonger upon Noddle. The air had grown thin and cold, and though the sunwas yet an hour high, his fingers were numb.

　　"Hang on, Jack," cheered August. "We're almost up."

　　At last Black Bolly disappeared, likewise the bobbing burros, one by one,then Noddle, wagging his ears, reached a level. Then Hare saw agray-green cedar forest, with yellow crags rising in the background, anda rush of cold wind smote his face. For a moment he choked; he could notget his breath. The air was thin and rare, and he inhaled deeply tryingto overcome the suffocation. Presently he realized that the trouble wasnot with the rarity of the atmosphere, but with the bitter-sweetpenetrating odor it carried. He was almost stifled. It was not like thesmell of pine, though it made him think of pine-trees.

　　"Ha! that's good!" said Naab, expanding his great chest. "That's air foryou, my lad. Can you taste it? Well, here's camp, your home for many aday, Jack. There's Piute--how do? how're the sheep?"

　　A short, squat Indian, good-humored of face, shook his black head tillthe silver rings danced in his ears, and replied: "Bad--damn coyotee!"

　　"Piute--shake with Jack. Him shoot coyote--got big gun," said Naab.

　　"How-do-Jack?" replied Piute, extending his hand, and then straightwaybegan examining the new rifle. "Damn--heap big gun!"

　　"Jack, you'll find this Indian one you can trust, for all he's a Piuteoutcast," went on August. "I've had him with me ever since Mescal foundhim on the Coconina Trail five years ago. What Piute doesn't know aboutthis side of Coconina isn't worth learning."

　　In a depression sheltered from the wind lay the camp. A fire burned inthe centre; a conical tent, like a tepee in shape, hung suspended from acedar branch and was staked at its four points; a leaning slab of rockfurnished shelter for camp supplies and for the Indian, and at one end aspring gushed out. A gray-sheathed cedar-tree marked the entrance tothis hollow glade, and under it August began preparing Hare's bed.

　　"Here's the place you're to sleep, rain or shine or snow," he said. "NowI've spent my life sleeping on the ground, and mother earth makes thebest bed. I'll dig out a little pit in this soft mat of needles; that'sfor your hips. Then the tarpaulin so; a blanket so. Now the otherblankets. Your feet must be a little higher than your head; you reallysleep down hill, which breaks the wind. So you never catch cold. Allyou need do is to change your position according to the direction of thewind. Pull up the blankets, and then the long end of the tarpaulin. Ifit rains or snows cover your head, and sleep, my lad, sleep to the songof the wind!"

　　From where Hare lay, resting a weary body, he could see down into thedepression which his position guarded. Naab built up the fire; Piutepeeled potatoes with deliberate care; Mescal, on her knees, her brownarms bare, kneaded dough in a basin; Wolf crouched on the ground, andwatched his mistress; Black Bolly tossed her head, elevating the bag onher nose so as to get all the grain.

　　Naab called him to supper, and when Hare set to with a will on the baconand eggs, and hot biscuits, he nodded approvingly. "That's what I want tosee," he said approvingly. "You must eat. Piute will get deer, or youmay shoot them yourself; eat all the venison you can. Remember whatScarbreast said. Then rest. That's the secret. If you eat and rest youwill gain strength."

　　The edge of the wall was not a hundred paces from the camp; and when Harestrolled out to it after supper, the sun had dipped the under side of itsred disc behind the desert. He watched it sink, while the golden-redflood of light grew darker and darker. Thought seemed remote from himthen; he watched, and watched, until he saw the last spark of fire diefrom the snow-slopes of Coconina. The desert became dimmer and dimmer;the oasis lost its outline in a bottomless purple pit, except for a faintlight, like a star.

　　The bleating of sheep aroused him and he returned to camp. The fire wasstill bright. Wolf slept close to Mescal's tent; Piute was not in sight;and Naab had rolled himself in blankets. Crawling into his bed, Harestretched aching legs and lay still, as if he would never move again.Tired as he was, the bleating of the sheep, the clear ring of the bell onBlack Bolly, and the faint tinkle of lighter bells on some of the rams,drove away sleep for a while. Accompanied by the sough of the windthrough the cedars the music of the bells was sweet, and he listened tillhe heard no more.

　　A thin coating of frost crackled on his bed when he awakened; and outfrom under the shelter of the cedar all the ground was hoar-white. As heslipped from his blankets the same strong smell of black sage and junipersmote him, almost like a blow. His nostrils seemed glued together bysome rich piny pitch; and when he opened his lips to breathe a suddenpain, as of a knife-thrust, pierced his lungs. The thought following wasas sharp as the pain. Pneumonia! What he had long expected! He sankagainst the cedar, overcome by the shock. But he rallied presently, forwith the reestablishment of the old settled bitterness, which had beenforgotten in the interest of his situation, he remembered that he hadgiven up hope. Still, he could not get back at once to his formerresignation. He hated to acknowledge that the wildness of this desertcanyon country, and the spirit it sought to instil in him, had wakened adesire to live. For it meant only more to give up. And after one shortinstant of battle he was himself again. He put his hand under hisflannel shirt and felt of the soreness of his lungs. He found it not atthe apex of the right lung, always the one sensitive spot, but allthrough his breast. Little panting breaths did not hurt; but the deepinhalation, which alone satisfied him filled his whole chest withthousands of pricking needles. In the depth of his breast was a hollowthat burned.

　　When he had pulled on his boots and coat, and had washed himself in therunway of the spring, his hands were so numb with cold they refused tohold his comb and brush; and he presented himself at the roaring firehalf-frozen, dishevelled, trembling, but cheerful. He would not tellNaab. If he had to die to-day, to-morrow or next week, he would lie downunder a cedar and die; he could not whine about it to this man.

　　"Up with the sun!" was Naab's greeting. His cheerfulness was asimpelling as his splendid virility. Following the wave of his hand Haresaw the sun, a pale-pink globe through a misty blue, rising between thegolden crags of the eastern wall.

　　Mescal had a shy "good-morning" for him, and Piute a broad smile, andfamiliar "how-do"; the peon slave, who had finished breakfast and wasabout to depart, moved his lips in friendly greeting that had no sound.

　　"Did you hear the coyotes last night?" inquired August "No! Well, of allthe choruses I ever heard. There must be a thousand on the bench. Jack,I wish I could spare the time to stay up here with you and shoot some.You'll have practice with the rifle, but don't neglect the Colt.Practice particularly the draw I taught you. Piute has a carbine, and heshoots at the coyotes, but who ever saw an Indian that could hitanything?"

　　"Damn--gun no good!" growled Piute, who evidently understood Englishpretty well. Naab laughed, and while Hare ate breakfast he talked of thesheep. The flock he had numbered three thousand. They were a goodlypart of them Navajo stock: small, hardy sheep that could live on anythingbut cactus, and needed little water. This flock had grown from a smallnumber to its present size in a few years. Being remarkably free fromthe diseases and pests which retard increase in low countries, the sheephad multiplied almost one for one for every year. But for the ravages ofwild beasts Naab believed he could raise a flock of many thousands and ina brief time be rich in sheep alone. In the winter he drove them downinto the oasis; the other seasons he herded them on the high ranges wherethe cattle could not climb. There was grass enough on this plateau for amillion sheep. After the spring thaw in early March, occasional snowsfell till the end of May, and frost hung on until early summer; then theJuly rains made the plateau a garden.

　　"Get the forty-four," concluded Naab, "and we'll go out and break it in."

　　With the long rifle in the hollow of his arm Jack forgot that he was asick man. When he came within gunshot of the flock the smell of sheepeffectually smothered the keen, tasty odor of black sage and juniper.Sheep ranged everywhere under the low cedars. They browsed with noses inthe frost, and from all around came the tinkle of tiny bells on thecurly-horned rams, and an endless variety of bleats.

　　"They're spread now," said August. "Mescal drives them on every littlewhile and Piute goes ahead to pick out the best browse. Watch the dog,Jack; he's all but human. His mother was a big shepherd dog that I gotin Lund. She must have had a strain of wild blood. Once while I washunting deer on Coconina she ran off with timber wolves and we thoughtshe was killed. But she came back, and had a litter of three puppies.Two were white, the other black. I think she killed the black one. Andshe neglected the others. One died, and Mescal raised the other. Wecalled him Wolf. He loves Mescal, and loves the sheep, and hates a wolf.Mescal puts a bell on him when she is driving, and the sheep know thebell. I think it would be a good plan for her to tie something red roundhis neck--a scarf, so as to keep you from shooting him for a wolf."

　　Nimble, alert, the big white dog was not still a moment. His duty was tokeep the flock compact, to head the stragglers and turn them back; and heknew his part perfectly. There was dash and fire in his work. He neverbarked. As he circled the flock the small Navajo sheep, edging evertoward forbidden ground, bleated their way back to the fold, the largerones wheeled reluctantly, and the old belled rams squared themselves,lowering their massive horns as if to butt him. Never, however, did theystand their ground when he reached them, for there was a decision aboutWolf which brooked no opposition. At times when he was working on oneside a crafty sheep on the other would steal out into the thicket. ThenMescal called and Wolf flashed back to her, lifting his proud head,eager, spirited, ready to take his order. A word, a wave of her whipsufficed for the dog to rout out the recalcitrant sheep and send himbleating to his fellows.

　　"He manages them easily now," said Naab, "but when the lambs come theycan't be kept in. The coyotes and wolves hang out in the thickets andpick up the stragglers. The worst enemy of sheep, though, is the oldgrizzly bear. Usually he is grouchy, and dangerous to hunt. He comesinto the herd, kills the mother sheep, and eats the milk-bag--no more!He will kill forty sheep in a night. Piute saw the tracks of one up onthe high range, and believes this bear is following the flock. Let's getoff into the woods some little way, into the edge of the thickets--forPiute always keeps to the glades--and see if we can pick off a fewcoyotes."

　　August cautioned Jack to step stealthily, and slip from cedar to cedar,to use every bunch of sage and juniper to hide his advance.

　　"Watch sharp, Jack. I've seen two already. Look for moving things.Don't try to see one quiet, for you can't till after your eye catches himmoving. They are gray, gray as the cedars, the grass, the ground. Good!Yes, I see him, but don't shoot. That's too far. Wait. They sneakaway, but they return. You can afford to make sure. Here now, by thatstone--aim low and be quick."

　　In the course of a mile, without keeping the sheep near at hand, they sawupward of twenty coyotes, five of which Jack killed in as many shots.

　　"You've got the hang of it," said Naab, rubbing his hands. "You'll killthe varmints. Piute will skin and salt the pelts. Now I'm going up onthe high range to look for bear sign. Go ahead, on your own hook."

　　Hare was regardless of time while he stole under the cedars and throughthe thickets, spying out the cunning coyotes. Then Naab's yell pealingout claimed his attention; he answered and returned. When they met herecounted his adventures in mingled excitement and disappointment.

　　"Are you tired?" asked Naab.

　　"Tired? No," replied Jack.

　　"Well, you mustn't overdo the very first day. I've news for you. Thereare some wild horses on the high range. I didn't see them, but foundtracks everywhere. If they come down here you send Piute to close thetrail at the upper end of the bench, and you close the one where we cameup. There are only two trails where even a deer can get off thisplateau, and both are narrow splits in the wall, which can be barred bythe gates. We made the gates to keep the sheep in, and they'll serve aturn. If you get the wild horses on the bench send Piute for me atonce."

　　They passed the Indian herding the sheep into a corral built against anuprising ridge of stone. Naab dispatched him to look for the deadcoyotes. The three burros were in camp, two wearing empty pack-saddles,and Noddle, for once not asleep, was eating from Mescal's hand.

　　"Mescal, hadn't I better take Black Bolly home?" asked August.

　　"Mayn't I keep her?"

　　"She's yours. But you run a risk. There are wild horses on the range.Will you keep her hobbled?"

　　"Yes," replied Mescal, reluctantly. "Though I don't believe Bolly wouldrun off from me."

　　"Look out she doesn't go, hobbles and all. Jack, here's the other bit ofnews I have for you. There's a big grizzly camping on the trail of oursheep. Now what I want to know is--shall I leave him to you, or put offwork and come up here to wait for him myself?"

　　"Why--" said Jack, slowly, "whatever you say. If you think you cansafely leave him to me--I'm willing."

　　"A grizzly won't be pleasant to face. I never knew one of thosesheep-killers that wouldn't run at a man, if wounded."

　　"Tell me what to do."

　　"If he comes down it's more than likely to be after dark. Don't riskhunting him then. Wait till morning, and put Wolf on his trail. He'llbe up in the rocks, and by holding in the dog you may find him asleep ina cave. However, if you happen to meet him by day do this. Don't wasteany shots. Climb a ledge or tree if one be handy. If not, stand yourground. Get down on your knee and shoot and let him come. Mind you,he'll grunt when he's hit, and start for you, and keep coming till he'sdead. Have confidence in yourself and your gun, for you can kill him.Aim low, and shoot steady. If he keeps on coming there's always a fatalshot, and that is when he rises. You'll see a bare spot on his breast.Put a forty-four into that, and he'll go down."

　　August had spoken so easily, quite as if he were explaining how to sheara yearling sheep, that Jack's feelings fluctuated between amazement andlaughter. Verily this desert man was stripped of all the false fears ofcivilization.

　　"Now, Jack, I'm off. Good-bye and good luck. Mescal, look out forhim. . . . So-ho! Noddle! Getup! Biscuit!" And with many a cheery word andslap he urged the burros into the forest, where they and his tall formsoon disappeared among the trees.

　　Piute came stooping toward camp so burdened with coyotes that he couldscarcely be seen under the gray pile. With a fervent "damn" he tumbledthem under a cedar, and trotted back into the forest for another load.Jack insisted on assuming his share of the duties about camp; and Mescalassigned him to the task of gathering firewood, breaking red-hot sticksof wood into small pieces, and raking them into piles of live coals.Then they ate, these two alone. Jack did not do justice to the supper;excitement had robbed him of appetite. He told Mescal how he had creptupon the coyotes, how so many had eluded him, how he had missed a graywolf. He plied her with questions about the sheep, and wanted to know ifthere would be more wolves, and if she thought the "silvertip" wouldcome. He was quite carried away by the events of the day.

　　The sunset drew him to the rim. Dark clouds were mantling the desertlike rolling smoke from a prairie-fire. He almost stumbled over Mescal,who sat with her back to a stone. Wolf lay with his head in her lap, andhe growled.

　　"There's a storm on the desert," she said. "Those smoky streaks areflying sand. We may have snow to-night. It's colder, and the wind isnorth. See, I've a blanket. You had better get one."

　　He thanked her and went for it. Piute was eating his supper, and thepeon had just come in. The bright campfire was agreeable, yet Hare didnot feel cold. But he wrapped himself in a blanket and returned toMescal and sat beside her. The desert lay indistinct in the foreground,inscrutable beyond; the canyon lost its line in gloom. The solemnity ofthe scene stilled his unrest, the strange freedom of longings unleashedthat day. What had come over him? He shook his head; but with theconsciousness of self returned a feeling of fatigue, the burning pain inhis chest, the bitter-sweet smell of black sage and juniper.

　　"You love this outlook?" he asked.

　　"Yes."

　　"Do you sit here often?"

　　"Every evening."

　　"Is it the sunset that you care for, the roar of the river, just beinghere high above it all?"

　　"It's that last, perhaps; I don't know."

　　"Haven't you been lonely?"

　　"No."

　　"You'd rather be here with the sheep than be in Lund, or Salt Lake City,as Esther and Judith want to be?"

　　"Yes."

　　Any other reply from her would not have been consistent with theimpression she was making on him. As yet he had hardly regarded her as ayoung girl; she had been part of this beautiful desert-land. But hebegan to see in her a responsive being, influenced by his presence. Ifthe situation was wonderful to him what must it be for her? Like a shy,illusive creature, unused to men, she was troubled by questions, fearfulof the sound of her own voice. Yet in repose, as she watched the lightsand shadows, she was serene, unconscious; her dark, quiet glance wasdreamy and sad, and in it was the sombre, brooding strength of thedesert.

　　Twilight and falling dew sent them back to the camp. Piute and Peon wereskinning coyotes by the blaze of the fire. The night wind had not yetrisen; the sheep were quiet; there was no sound save the crackle ofburning cedar sticks. Jack began to talk; he had to talk, so, addressingPiute and the dumb peon, he struck at random into speech, and wordsflowed with a rush. Piute approved, for he said "damn" whenever hisintelligence grasped a meaning, and the peon twisted his lips and fixedhis diamond eyes upon Hare in rapt gaze. The sound of a voice waswelcome to the sentinels of that lonely sheep-range. Jack talked ofcities, of ships, of people, of simple things in the life he had left,and he discovered that Mescal listened. Not only did she listen; shebecame absorbed; it was romance to her, fulfilment of her vague dreams.Nor did she seek her tent till he ceased; then with a startled"good-night" she was gone.

　　From under the snugness of his warm blankets Jack watched out the lastwakeful moments of that day of days. A star peeped through the fringe ofcedar foliage. The wind sighed, and rose steadily, to sweep over himwith breath of ice, with the fragrance of juniper and black sage and atang of cedar.

　　But that day was only the beginning of eventful days, of increasingcharm, of forgetfulness of self, of time that passed unnoted. Everysucceeding day was like its predecessor, only richer. Every day thehoar-frost silvered the dawn; the sheep browsed; the coyotes skulked inthe thickets; the rifle spoke truer and truer. Every sunset Mescal'schanging eyes mirrored the desert. Every twilight Jack sat beside her inthe silence; every night, in the camp-fire flare, he talked to Piute andthe peon.

　　The Indians were appreciative listeners, whether they understood Jack ornot, but his talk with them was only a presence. He wished to reveal theoutside world to Mescal, and he saw with pleasure that every day she grewmore interested.

　　One evening he was telling of New York City, of the monster buildingswhere men worked, and of the elevated railways, for the time was the lateseventies and they were still a novelty. Then something unprecedentedoccurred, inasmuch as Piute earnestly and vigorously interrupted Jack,demanding to have this last strange story made more clear. Jack did hisbest in gesture and speech, but he had to appeal to Mescal to translatehis meaning to the Indian. This Mescal did with surprising fluency. Theresult, however, was that Piute took exception to the story of trainscarrying people through the air. He lost his grin and regarded Jack withmuch disfavor. Evidently he was experiencing the bitterness of misplacedtrust.

　　"Heap damn lie!" he exclaimed with a growl, and stalked off into thegloom.

　　Piute's expressive doubt discomfited Hare, but only momentarily, forMescal's silvery peal of laughter told him that the incident had broughtthem closer together. He laughed with her and discovered a well ofjoyousness behind her reserve. Thereafter he talked directly to Mescal.The ice being broken she began to ask questions, shyly at first, yet moreand more eagerly, until she forgot herself in the desire to learn ofcities and people; of women especially, what they wore and how theylived, and all that life meant to them.

　　The sweetest thing which had ever come to Hare was the teaching of thisdesert girl. How naive in her questions and how quick to grasp she was!The reaching out of her mind was like the unfolding of a rose. Evidentlythe Mormon restrictions had limited her opportunities to learn.

　　But her thought had striven to escape its narrow confines, and now,liberated by sympathy and intelligence, it leaped forth.

　　Lambing-time came late in May, and Mescal, Wolf, Piute and Jack knew norest. Night-time was safer for the sheep than the day, though thehowling of a thousand coyotes made it hideous for the shepherds. All ina day, seemingly, the little fleecy lambs came, as if by magic, andfilled the forest with piping bleats. Then they were tottering aftertheir mothers, gamboling at a day's growth, wilful as youth--and thecarnage began. Boldly the coyotes darted out of thicket and bush, andmany lambs never returned to their mothers. Gaunt shadows hovered alwaysnear; the great timber-wolves waited in covert for prey. Piute slept notat all, and the dog's jaws were flecked with blood morning and night.Jack hung up fifty-four coyotes the second day; the third he let themlie, seventy in number. Many times the rifle-barrel burned his hands.His aim grew unerring, so that running brutes in range dropped in theirtracks. Many a gray coyote fell with a lamb in his teeth.

　　One night when sheep and lambs were in the corral, and the shepherdsrested round the camp-fire, the dog rose quivering, sniffed the coldwind, and suddenly bristled with every hair standing erect.

　　"Wolf!" called Mescal.

　　The sheep began to bleat. A rippling crash, a splintering of wood, toldof an irresistible onslaught on the corral fence.

　　"Chus--chus!" exclaimed Piute.

　　Wolf, not heeding Mescal's cry, flashed like lightning under the cedars.The rush of the sheep, pattering across the corral was succeeded by anuproar.

　　"Bear! Bear!" cried Mescal, with dark eyes on Jack. He seized his rifle.

　　"Don't go," she implored, her hand on his arm. "Not at night--rememberFather Naab said not."

　　"Listen! I won't stand that. I'll go. Here, get in the tree--quick!"

　　"No--no--"

　　"Do as I say!" It was a command. The girl wavered. He dropped therifle, and swung her up. "Climb!"

　　"No--don't go--Jack!"

　　With Piute at his heels he ran out into the darkness.