They always go through there about this time."
After a short time the party came to a draw through which ran a small
stream of clear water. Here they saw a flock of perhaps two hundred
sheep feeding slowly along. All were headed in one direction.
"I see a young wether," Lopez announced as the party drew up beside a
giant pine. "Shall I pick him off?"
"Go as far as you like," replied Harry. "I don't know one from another.
They all look alike to me."
"See those two drinking by that big dead stub," Lopez said. "Which one
shall I take, the one with black on his face or the white?"
"Take the black faced one," replied Arnold. "He's fatter."
"Here goes then," stated Lopez seeming hardly to take aim before pulling
the trigger. "The black faced one was what you wanted."
His shot was successful. The black faced sheep fell in his tracks. Lopez
swung quickly forward, picked up the sheep and started away with his
burden over his shoulder.
"Come on, now," he urged. "The rest of the flock'll go home all right
and I want to get to the cabin right soon and get supper."
The boys wondered at his haste to leave the spot. Arnold looked quickly
at Harry and exchanged questioning glances, but spoke no word. Harry's
hands were busy with the mute language, however.
"Looks mighty suspicious," he telegraphed to his chum.
"Just what I was thinking," declared Arnold in reply.
"We'd better keep our weather eye open," was Harry's next suggestion.
"Maybe those are his sheep and maybe they are not.
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