They had now reached the plant, where they were to meet Donald's father and Thornton; they mounted the steps of the low building and went in. Immediately they were greeted by the whirr of wheels, the chatter of many herders, and the blatting of sheep.
Mr. Clark came forward.
"Well, Don," he said, "this is quite a sight, isn't it?"
"I should say it was! I had no idea shearing was done this way. It is just the way they clip horses or cut my hair."
His father smiled.
"Yes, it is done on the same principle. Let us watch this man here. He is just starting. I thought he would tie the feet of the sheep first, but he does not seem to be doing it; instead he is turning it up on its rump, and holding it with his left arm so its hoofs cannot touch the floor. They say sheep never kick or struggle if their feet are raised from the ground. Now he is starting with the shears. See! He is opening the wool by a cut down the right shoulder. How neatly the fleece comes off—almost in one piece, as if it was a jacket!"
"I guess that was a smooth-skinned sheep," laughed Donald, "or the shearer never could have done it so quickly."
The man who was shearing overheard him.
"It was a smooth-skinned one," he called. "Still, even the wrinkly Merinos loose their coats pretty fast. Watch and see. I have one right here."
Donald watched.