Mr. Clark sat up.
"I promised to obey Sandy, sure enough," he yawned, "and I like him all the better for routing me out, sleepy though I am. I will be with you in a moment. Where is Sandy?"
"Setting watch-fires along the outer edge of the pasture. He says to bring your rifle."
A little later and they had overtaken the Scotchman, who was striding along through the darkness, swinging his lantern.
"It is here I'll station you, Mr. Clark," said Sandy simply. "Patrol this border as far as the bonfire; then turn backward and go until you meet Bernardo. Donald will pace between the next two fires, and the Mexicans and myself will complete the circle round the flock. Be careful lest bob-cats steal down on you unawares; they come softly as mice, make no fuss, and kill so quickly that they seldom disturb the herd. It is likely we will no be troubled with them because of the fenced-in pasture. Now cougars will leap the fence without the dogs knowing them to be at hand, too, and will take their kill off over their shoulders and disappear. We have seen no cougars, though, this year, and here's hoping that we won't. While you are patrolling I'd advise you to fire now and again, even though no beasts are in sight; it scares them off. Now I've told you all I can. Good-night."
Away into the falling darkness sped Sandy.
Donald began his patrol. As he trudged back and forth on his beat he could catch an occasional glimpse of the Scotchman, who stopped to toss a few sticks on the fire or halted an instant to exchange a word with one of the Mexicans. The boy could also see his father's dim figure walking to and fro. It was dull work, this monotonous tramp. Donald looked up at the canopy of stars and thought he had never seen so many. He yawned, and yawned a second time. Still he kept up his even jog along the outskirts of the fold.
Suddenly he was conscious of a low whine not far away. It was repeated. Then came a loud barking as if a pack of wolves were on the other side of the pasture. He heard Sandy's voice echoing on the clear air. Two shots followed. Perhaps the coyotes were over there; or could it be a cougar or a bear? How he longed to be in the midst of the sport! Why should he stay on this quiet, unmolested border of the pasture? Nothing was happening here! An impulse to join his father or Sandy swept over him; then a thought rose in his mind and held him back—if he left his patrol he would be a deserter, a deserter as blameworthy as any sentry who fled from his post. Straightening up proudly, the boy resumed his even pace.
It was just as he turned that he caught sight of a crouching form slipping along the ground toward the edge of the flock. With a sharp flash Donald's rifle rang out. He shot into the air, not daring to aim toward the pasture lest unwittingly he injure some of the sheep in the darkness. His shot was answered by a yelp and a quick rush. Colin bounded to his side, sniffed, and darted into the herd.
A commotion followed.