There was really not much work for Hugh to do. Occasionally he would see a small band of the sheep browsing off in a different direction from the course of the main flock, but at such times the dog knew the exact course of action. He would circle around the straying animals, cut off their escape, and they were always glad to head back into the main flock. It became increasingly evident, however, how difficult it was to keep track of the entire band. Only the gregarious instinct of the animals maintained their formation at all: in the dense woods he could see only a small part of the flock at one time. He had no way of knowing if various detachments had not already wandered away from the main band. Of course he didn’t know the methods by which most herders guard against this danger: by an approximate count achieved by keeping track of the black sheep, or markers. It seemed to him also that the wolves and other predatory animals had every opportunity in the world to lurk about the flanks of the flock and steal the lambs. The truth was that losses were sustained in this manner every day, and his presence alone prevented a wholesale slaughter. About ten he decided it was time to turn the sheep. They had been moving since before dawn: he wanted to give them time in plenty to get back to the camp before night. He didn’t know how many rests they would wish to take in the afternoon. He made a big circle about the flock, turning back at its head. He supposed that he could make the animals wheel straight about in a to-the-rear march, permitting those at the rear of the main band to get first chance at the feed on the way home. The way of sheep, however, is different. They executed what was more nearly a squads right, keeping the same leaders. The great advantage of the scheme lay in the fact that circling, they made the return trip on fresh feeding grounds. He felt increasingly thankful for the aid of his dog. He seemed to interpret Hugh’s every wish. And when at the head of the main band, the man got his first glimpse of Spot. CHAPTER X No observer could make any mistake about Spot’s position in the flock. Through all the maneuvers of the great band he kept the foremost place; and the other sheep followed him without question. The young and inexperienced herdsman thought at first that he was the old “bellwether” of the flock. But in a very few moments he had to reconstruct some of his ideas. In the first place Spot was not old, and in the second he was obviously not a wether. He was not wrinkled and withered like the old ewes: sheep that had yielded their wool for many seasons. To Hugh’s eyes he looked like a yearling ram; and rather amazing horns had begun to curve from his bold, rugged head.