Donald had now been long enough at the ranch so that he had discovered a number of ways in which he could be of use. Most of his efforts, to be sure, were confined to aiding Sandy; but as Sandy had almost more work than he could do he greatly appreciated the boy's help. Donald carried meal to the feeding-troughs, fed the dogs, ran errands, and carried messages from one pasture to another. He was not a little proud when one day Sandy bestowed on him the title of first assistant. To think of being the assistant of Sandy McCulloch! Donald's heart bounded! Of course he got tired. The days were long and the work was real. It was, however, good wholesome work in the open air—work that made his muscles ache at first and then grow steadily stronger.
One evening after he had put in an unusually active day and was sitting in the lamplight with his father Sandy came to the door of the room and asked:
"Might I come in and speak to you and Donald, Mr. Clark?"
Mr. Clark laid down his book. He always enjoyed a talk with Sandy.
"Certainly," he answered. "Come up by the fire, Sandy. The chilly evenings still hang on, don't they?"
"They do so. I'm thinking, Mr. Clark, that now Thornton is back again it is time I started for the range. Some of the herders have gone already, as you know; the rest will be off to-morrow. I ought to be getting under way soon if I want to land my flock in high, cool pasturage before the heat comes."
"Very true, Sandy. I have kept you behind because your aid in starting off the wagons and the other herders was invaluable. But, as you say, there is no need to detain you longer. How soon could you get away?"
"I could start to-morrow if I had my permit."
"How is that?"