“‘Of course even a sheep herder must sleep part of the time,’ Harry declared as we rode through a valley that was covered with dry grama grass. Close to the mountains we came to the herder’s hut, which consisted of one earth-roofed adobe room, a stove, two bunks, a rude table and bench were the only furnishings, while strings of dry red peppers were the decorations. Juan was farther up the valley with the flock, but toward sundown, he came driving the sheep into the sheltered corral. Harry at once saw that something was wrong with the herder. The faithful shepherd had broken his arm and was enduring much pain, but he would not leave his flock until someone came to care for it. Harry skilfully bandaged the broken arm and then bade Juan ride at once to a physician in Red Riverton. He is to leave now as soon as he has his supper, which Harry is preparing; so I must end this letter that I may send it by Juan. “Harry and I are going to take turns watching the flock. How I do hope that I will be able to catch the wolf or mountain lion that is killing the sheep. I would like to prove my gratitude to Mr. Wilson by some helpful deed. “Virginia, how may I show my gratitude to you? Will you let me know? Your outlaw, Tom.” “What an interesting letter!” Virginia exclaimed; “I am so glad that the Wilsons are being so kind to him.” Several days later the girls were surprised to receive another letter from Tom. They were riding on the mesa trail when Slim came from town with the mail. There were several letters for each of them and so eager were they to read them that they dismounted and bidding their ponies return to the home ranch, the girls sat on the sun-warmed sand and looked over the mail. “A letter from Babs!” Margaret exclaimed happily. “And another from Tom, so soon!” Virginia said. “Which shall we read first?” “Tom’s, of course,” Margaret replied, “Babs won’t mind waiting.” So Virg began to read aloud. “Dear Virginia and Margaret: I have had such an exciting adventure and I want to tell you about it. Last night Harry permitted me to watch the flock, as he had done the night before, but without discovering the invader. In fact, when he came to the cabin to breakfast, he told me that nothing had happened to disturb the sheep, and yet, an hour later, when he drove the flock to the valley pasture we found that two of the best ewes had been killed on the far north side, so it was there that I determined to hide and watch. That part is nearest the Red Canyon which is a narrow gorge of red rock leading into the mountains. “I crouched in the shelter of an overhanging ledge behind a scrub pine and waited. The hours dragged by but nothing happened. It must have been about midnight when I thought that I heard soft, stealthy footfalls as though made by padded feet. Too, the sheep nearest me became fidgety and stood up facing the canyon. The wind evidently had brought a scent to them that they feared.