Although Rob was five years older than his sister they had always been chums through childhood, had written to each other regularly while they were away at separate schools and had never lost interest in each other's work. As soon as Rob had decided to stay in the West he had looked forward to having Harry come out to live with him.
As the morning passed the sun grew hot on their backs. Harry took off her coat and wished for a parasol. Rob with his hat over his eyes slouched forward comfortably and gave his attention to the team. "Rock! Move up there," he ordered. "Get out of that, you! Hit the collar, there, Rye! Keep in the road!"
The last few days of travel had tired Harry more than she realized and now the slow motion of the wagon and the unbroken silence of the desert proved very restful to her. The green of budding sage, of buck brush and rabbit brush and new bunch grass melted into a soft mantle spreading over the world as far as she could see. At long intervals they passed immense flocks of sheep scattered through the brush and among the rocky buttes.
"Who takes care of them?" Harry asked. "I should think their owners would be afraid to leave so many alone."
"They're being taken care of. See that tent up there?" Rob pointed to a patch of white canvas a mile away. "The Mex brings the band out to their feed ground early in the morning, leaves the dogs on guard and then goes back to his tent and sleeps half the day. He won't have to bother with the sheep until it's time to move them to their bedding ground for the night."
"What's a 'Mex'?"
"Oh, short for Mexican. So many of the sheep herders are Mexicans and Bascoes nowadays that people call them all 'Mexes.' That stick up there with the rag on it marks the line between his range and the next herder's and neither of them can cross it to feed. The sheep are all on their way to the reserve now, in the mountains on the other side of the prairie. They stay here in the foothills as long as the grass lasts, then work north. That's when our trouble begins. I expect they'll bother us a lot, since I haven't finished fencing."
"Why, I thought you said you had fenced," Harry exclaimed.
"Just the main springs. Not the whole hundred and sixty acres."