As Jack looked up toward the hill he could occasionally see Vicente crossing an open space, going at a good rate and apparently thinking nothing of his horse. Yet, oddly enough--and Jack as well as others of the round-up boys had often wondered at it--Vicente's horses, even though he had a string of only six and seemed to work them twice as hard as any other horses on the round-up, were always in good spirits, fat and springy. Now and then on the hillside above, and always in advance of Vicente, he could see little bunches of cattle hurrying along. He kept a sharp lookout to his right, thinking that possibly some of those being driven by the Mexican might turn off and drift down the hill in his direction, and if they did so he did not wish to go so far, or so carelessly, as to leave them behind. Keeping his eye out warily, both up and down the hill, he presently saw above him, rushing diagonally to the front, five black-tail deer, none of them with horns--apparently an old doe, two yearlings and two spotted fawns. They had been startled either by Vicente or by the cattle he was driving, and now were making great time down the hill and toward safety. Even for them the work of crossing these ridges was tiring, and before long Jack could see that the old doe's tongue was hanging out of her mouth and that she was beginning to lose her wind. Jack had no cattle immediately in front of him, and he was riding down into a rather wide valley with a flat bottom. As the deer were drawing near, and would apparently cross in front of him, he put his horse into a fast gallop in order to reach the top of the next ridge about the time the deer got there. This he succeeded in doing, and as he rode up on top of the ridge and drew rein just below some scrubby pine trees, he could see the deer coming at a gallop along the top of this ridge, apparently intending to follow it down to the lower country, instead of continuing their way across the ravines. Jack was partly hidden by the trees, and was making no movement. The deer kept on along the ridge, slackening their pace as they got near to him, until just before they reached the pine trees the two leading does were trotting, the two fawns had almost stopped and the old doe was coming along heavily in the rear. By the pines they all stopped and looked back up the hill, as if to try to learn what had become of the cause of their alarm. They were so close to Jack that he could readily have thrown a rope over the head of any one of them. Their red flanks were heaving and the old doe was quite tired. The little fawns, which could not have been more than six weeks or two months old, were the embodiment of grace and lightness.