“Say!” interposed Chris, none too graciously. “Did you stop me, when I was in a hurry, just to tell me Nellie had been wastin’ her time by roundin’ up a lot of mangy sheep? I’m gladder’n ever that I sold her to you, if that’s all she’s fit for. Now if it’d been a bunch of good cattle--” “She’s fit for suthin’ else,” returned Fenno. “That wa’n’t why I high-signed you. I wanted to show you the suthin’ else she’s fit for. C’m’on in.” He led the way into the kitchen. There, behind the stove, was a big box, half full of soft rags. In the box lay Cirenhaven Nellie, reclining comfortably on her side. At sound of Joel’s step her tail gave a lazy wag or two, by way of welcome. But at sound and scent of the stranger behind him, her tail ceased to wave, and her lip curled in menace. For Nellie was on guard again. This time she was not guarding silly sheep. She was guarding eight squirming gray-brown atoms, that nuzzled close against her furry body. The baby collies were no larger than plump rats. But the way they wriggled and drank proved them none the worse for their mother’s gallant exploits of the preceding day. At a gentle word from Royce Mack, the collie mother dropped her tired head back on the bed of rags and suffered the outsider to draw near and gaze. Hibben stood looking curiously at the snuggling family in the box. Treve crossed the kitchen and stood beside Mack, his head on one side, gazing down at his babies. It was Joel who broke the silence. “Eight of ’em!” he proclaimed. “An’ they take after their ma. For ev’ry one of ’em is as blind as a cowman’s int’llects. But in another nine days the hull eight of ’em is due to git their eyes wide open. That’s when they’ll commence to take after their pa an’ be a credit to a sheep ranch. How many of ’em d’you want us to save out for you--at seventy-five dollars per?” CHAPTER X: THE RUSTLERS Three miles to eastward of the Dos Hermanos ranch runs the Black Angel Trail. Far to northward it has its beginning. It cuts the state from top to bottom, like a jaggèd swordstroke. Up above the Peixoto Range it starts; and it runs almost due south across the Mexican border. Nearly a century ago this trail was blazed. Of old it was the chief artery between the north counties and Mexico. The state roads and the railways have long since taken its place; and have diverted from it the bulk of traffic. Bumps and dips and narrow cuts between canyonsides render it impassable to motor car or to other modern vehicle.