As he rode away from the pool he saw a large flock of sheep
approaching. They were very closely, even densely, packed, in a solid
slow-moving mass and coming with a precision almost like a march.
This fact surprised Shefford, for there was not an Indian in sight.
Presently he saw that a dog was leading the flock, and a little later
he discovered another dog in the rear of the sheep. They were
splendid, long-haired dogs, of a wild-looking shepherd breed. He
halted his horse to watch the procession pass by. The flock covered
fully an acre of ground and the sheep were black, white, and brown.
They passed him, making a little pattering roar on the hard-caked sand.
The dogs were taking the sheep in to water.

Shefford went on and was drawing close to the other side of the basin,
where the flat red level was broken by rising dunes and ridges, when
he espied a bunch of ponies. A shrill whistle told him that they had
seen him. They were wild, shaggy, with long manes and tails. They
stopped, threw up their heads, and watched him. Shefford certainly
returned the attention. There was no Indian with them. Presently,
with a snort, the leader, which appeared to be a stallion, trotted
behind the others, seemed to be driving them, and went clear round
the band to get in the lead again. He was taking them in to water,
the same as the dogs had taken the sheep.

These incidents were new and pleasing to Shefford. How ignorant he
had been of life in the wilderness! Once more he received subtle
intimations of what he might learn out in the open; and it was with a
less weighted heart that he faced the gateway between the huge yellow
bluffs on his left and the slow rise of ground to the black mesa on
his right. He looked back in time to see the trading-post, bleak