warm, comfortable shed for sheep and cattle. In one of the stalls a cow stood munching hay.
“Some one does n't look after his sheep very well, Pard,” said Kane. “Bring ’em in.”
The well-trained collie needed no second bidding. With an assenting bark, he ran around the shivering flock, which quickly scattered among the bushes. It proved no easy task to house these sheep, for, being unused to a dog, the younger ones were frightened, and at first fled in every direction. But Kane hurried out to direct matters, and Pard, wise and careful in his part of the business, after considerable effort brought them, an obedient bunch, into their fold. Then their self-appointed shepherd filled the low racks with hay, which they began to eat gratefully.
“Well, Bossy,” addressing the cow, “we ’ve invited ourselves to spend Christmas eve with you and the sheepsie-baas. Here, Pard! Where are you?” he called, noticing that the collie had not entered the shed. Off somewhere in the bushes Pard began a spirited barking.
“Some stubborn runaways,” thought Kane. “Bring ’em in, Pard,” he commanded over the din of the storm.
Pard sent back a quick, answering bark. Kane repeated his order, and again the collie responded with a sharp, imperative bark. Sure that something was wrong, the boy left the shelter of the shed, and again faced the fury of the elements.
“Where are you, Pard?”
Kane bent his head to listen for the dog’s bark to guide him. It came, and was instantly followed by the sound of a groan—a human groan!
Quickly Kane groped his way through the underbrush of the cañon. Guided by Pard’s persistent barking, he at last reached an object lying among the rocks almost buried in snow. A nearer survey revealed to the lad a man lying prostrate and helpless in a little clump of bushes.
“I ’ve had a fall and hurt my ankle so I can’t walk in the snow!” said the unfortunate man, groaning with pain, as Kane bent solicitously over him.
“Why, it ’s Mr. Thompson!” cried Kane, in surprise. “How did it happen?”
“In trying to bunch my sheep, I slipped on a rock and took a bad tumble,” explained Mr. Thompson. “I dragged myself through the snow as far as these bushes, then my strength give out. The pain and cold together made me kind of lose my senses, I guess, till the dog roused me.”
Half-leading, half-dragging the rancher, Kane managed to get him to the shed. Here, on an improvised couch of hay and empty sacks, the disabled man watched his safely sheltered flock taking their supper in calm content.
“Well, Providence works funny sometimes!” he ejaculated. “There I was, flounderin’ in the snow, disablin’ myself, and worryin’ for fear my sheep ’d all perish; and at last I thought I was a goner myself. And there you was, losin’ the trail all for a purpose, to do my work, and save my life.”
“It was mostly Pard,” asserted Kane, stroking the collie’s head. “He drove the sheep in and found you.”
“It was the two of you,” corrected Thompson, looking gratefully at the boy and his dog. “I ’m not harborin’ any more prejudices ag’in’ boys and dogs—you two in particular. The storm ’s knocked them prejudices all out o’ me. The house is jest round the bend of the cañon. The wind ’s fallin’ now, and purty soon you can go and tell Sairy what ’s happened. I ain't goin’ to let Jim Moreley have you! You and Pard are Christmas presents for Sairy and me!”
In silent thankfulness, Kane, too happy for words, pressed the rancher’s hand. Pard only wagged his tail.
