But what a charm there was in that crisp snip of the shears!
At last, however, Donald and his father moved on to where crews of men were busy at smooth board tables.
"What are they doing here?" Donald asked.
"They are tying fleeces," explained Mr. Clark.
"But don't they wash that dirty wool before they tie it up?" questioned the boy, astounded.
Sandy, who had joined them for the moment, laughed at Donald's disgust.
"You'd have us washing and ironing it, perhaps," he chuckled. "No, no! We used to wash all fleeces before they were clipped, 'tis true. But your father says that now buyers care little for them washed. Folks will pay about as much for good wool unwashed as washed. It is a lucky thing for us, because it saves us much trouble; more than that, it is better for the sheep not to be put through the water. The thick fleece stays damp for many days, and unless the creature is range-bred and therefore used to all weather it suffers a shock, and is liable to be sick. You can't shear a flock until about two weeks after washing, for not only must the fleece dry, but new yolk must form in the wool. If the wool is too dry the shears will not slip through it."
"But by the end of two weeks I should think the sheep would have his fleece all dirty again," objected Donald.
"That is just the point—he does."
"Why couldn't you wash the fleece after it is taken off?"