“There’s a dog,” exclaimed Ted suddenly, pointing to the ridge before them, and sure enough a dog stood on it, head up, and staring.
“It’s Siwash,” gasped Peggie, out of breath after her gallop. “And he knows us, Jean, I declare.”
Siwash came to meet them in very friendly fashion. He was large and shaggy, with beautifully pointed ears, and a splendid ruff around his head.
“He used to be a puppy over at the ranch,” Jean explained. “You should have seen Peggie trying to raise the litter after the mother was killed in a wolf fight three winters ago. Mrs. Sandy has one of them now, and Siwash and his brother are here. Look, girls, yonder’s the camp.”
“Why, the wagon looks like a prairie schooner,” cried Ruth. It did, too, just like the pictures of the old-time wagons the pioneers crossed the plains in. It stood off to one side, with a cook-stove near it, conveniently set up. There was no tent. The herder did not notice them until they were near. He had a lamb on his lap, feeding it.
“Don’t stop, Randy,” Jean called. “We just rode over to look at the camp. The boys got home yesterday. I think they’ll be over soon to see you. What’s the matter with the little one?”
“Its mother won’t claim it,” Randy said, grinning, somewhat shy at finding himself the center of attention.
The girls slipped off their mounts, and hobbled them under Jean’s direction. It was their first attempt, but even Peggie said they had caught on to the trick of it very well.
Then they took a look around the camp. Not that there was much to see. Only the far-reached mass of sheep, their heads bent low to crop the grass, and only their backs visible like a lot of gray rocks. And as they munched, they moved forward, ever so little at a time, but still steadily forward.
“May we look in your wagon too, Randy?” asked Jean. “I want to show the girls how completely it is fitted up for a movable camp home.”