his unconventional attitude and profoundly hoping that it would be
overlooked as unavoidable, and that somehow the petitions would get
the right direction after leaving the under side of the platform.

In the morning he had proof that his prayers had been favorably
received. There was a Bear-track, indeed, but the number of black
sheep was unchanged, so Pedro filled his pocket with stones and began
his usual torrent of remarks as he drove the flock.

"Hyah, Capitan--you huajalote," as the dog paused to drink. "Bring
back those ill-descended sons of perdition," and a stone gave force to
the order, which the dog promptly obeyed. Hovering about the great
host of grumbling hoofy locusts, he kept them together and on the
move, while Pedro played the part of a big, noisy, and troublesome
second.

As they journeyed through the open country the sheep-herder's eye fell
on a human figure, a man sitting on a rock above them to the left.
Pedro gazed inquiringly; the man saluted and beckoned. This meant
"friend"; had he motioned him to pass on it might have meant, "Keep
away or I shoot." Pedro walked toward him a little way and sat down.
The man came forward. It was Lan Kellyan, the hunter.

Each was glad of a chance to "talk with a human" and to get the news.
The latest concerning the price of wool, the Bull-and-Bear fiasco,
and, above all, the monster Bear that had killed Tampico's
sheep, afforded topics of talk. "Ah, a Bear devill--de hell-brute--a
Gringo Bear--pardon, my amigo, I mean a very terroar."

As the sheep-herder enlarged on the marvelous cunning of the Bear that