CHAPTER XI
THE TRAGEDY IN THE CAÑON
The sheep were bunched so tightly around the mouth of the cañon that Scott had to make quite a circle to reach the rim of the cliffs. He then followed the edge of the cliffs back to the cañon which cut back into the plateau like the mouth of a great chute fringed along the sides with aspen. The bottom of it was fairly smooth at the upper end and quite wide, narrowing rapidly and becoming rougher till it ended in the knife-like cut where it broke through the face of the cliff. There it dropped sheer to the valley three hundred feet below.
A queer sight met Scott’s astonished gaze when he peered through the screen of aspen down into the little triangular amphitheater. He had no idea of secrecy when he came down there. He had merely wanted to see what was going on and he had walked openly across the bench. It was only the presence of the sheep which had prevented him from walking straight into the mouth of the cañon. But now that he found himself so fortunately located and found the game so well worth watching he nestled quietly down in his screen of aspens and decided to lay low.
He knew now why there were no herders with the sheep. Six men were working desperately building a fence across the mouth of the cañon. Five of them were sheep herders and the sixth was Heth. They were cutting posts from the aspen trees, driving them rather close together, and weaving the tops of the trees between them to form a solid barricade. They had evidently been at the work for some time for the fence was more than two thirds completed. Even then Scott did not understand the significance of it all. Why should they be building a fence across there? There did not seem to be any more reason why the sheep should go down there than over the edge of the cliffs anywhere else.
The voices of the workers floated up to him and he could hear distinctly what they said. It was not long until he heard something which enlightened him on the purpose of the fence.
“This here cache was some idea, Dugan,” exclaimed one of the herders who was cutting some brush almost directly under Scott on the side of the cañon.
“You bet,” one of the others answered admiringly. “Old Jed couldn’t find his own sheep down in here.”
So that was the idea. That was the reason all the sheep had been driven down to the cliffs and why no attempt had been made to run them over into Baxter’s district or back out the chute. They were going to hide the extras in those cañons till the recount was over and then let them out to graze with the bunch once more. It was a clever idea and would undoubtedly have worked if Scott had not stumbled onto it.
“The question is now,” said one of the herders, “can we get enough of them in here? What do you think about it, Dugan?”