Later Donald had to relate every part of his adventure, and they skinned the black bear and spread his hide out in the sun.
"His coat is thicker than that of most bears at this season of the year. It will make a bonny rug for your father's office, Don. When the camp-tender comes we will send it back by him to the home ranch. Thornton can get it cured for you at Glen City and it will be a sightly present for your father. You are a son worth having!"
"I want to be, Sandy."
"Dinna bother your head. I've seen full a dozen lads worse than you!" was the grim reply.
CHAPTER VII
A NARROW ESCAPE
It was not long before Donald felt almost as at home in the hill country as did Sandy himself. They pitched camp and stayed in one place until the grazing began to get scarce; then they "pulled up" and tramped on. Sandy knew the region well and was therefore seldom at a loss to find water-holes. During the night they watched the flock, and as soon as the herd had fed in the morning and was ready to come to rest they left the dogs on guard and slept. Donald usually slept soundly, for the fresh air and exercise kept him in perfect health. Sandy, on the other hand, slept with one eye open—or one ear open—the boy could never quite decide which it was. But the result was the same; by some mysterious means Sandy was always conscious of every move of his flock.
Donald never tired of watching the young Scotchman. What a picture he was in his flannel blouse, open at the throat; his baggy trousers and sheepskin belt; his sombrero with its band of Mexican leather; and the field-glasses slung over his shoulder! From these glasses, his rifle, and his crook he was seldom parted. His great knuckles, broad from the grasp of his staff, were like iron; and his lithe, wiry body was never weary. And yet with all his strength Sandy was the gentlest of men with his sheep.