"That's a bad face," Asher said, when they were out of her hearing. "I wonder why she tried to hide that old salt can." "How do you know it was a salt can?" Jacobs asked. "Because it is exactly like a salt can I saw at Pryor Gaines' old cabin, and because some salt fell out as she tipped it over," Asher replied. "You have an eye for details," Jacobs returned. "That was Gretchen Gimpke, Hans Wyker's girl. She married his bartender, and is raising a family of little bartenders back in the hilly country there, while Gimpke helps Hans run a perfectly respectable tavern in town." "Well, I may misjudge her, but if I had any interest near here, I should want her to keep on her own side of the creek," Asher declared. And somehow both remembered the dead sheep down in the deep pool at the foot of the hill. The live sheep were crowding along the fence on the creek side of the big range when the two men entered it. "What ails the flock?" Asher asked, as they saw it following the fence line eagerly. "Let's ride across and meet them," Jacobs suggested. The creek side was rough with many little dips and draws hiding the boundary line in places. The men rode quietly toward the flock by the shortest way. As they faced a hollow deepening to a draw toward the creek, Asher suddenly halted. "Look at that!" he cried, pointing toward the fence. John Jacobs looked and saw where the ground was lowest that the barbed wires had been dragged out of place, leaving an opening big enough for two or more sheep to crowd through at a time. As they neared this point, Asher said: "It's a pretty clear case, Jacobs. See that line of salt running up the bare ground, and here is an opening. The flock is coming down on that line. They will have a chance to drink after taking their salt." John Jacobs slid from his horse, and giving the rein to Asher, he climbed through the hole in the fence and hastily examined the ground beyond it. "It's a friendly act on somebody's part," he said grimly. "The creek cuts a deep hole under the bank here. There's a pile of salt right at the edge. Somebody has sprinkled a line of it clear over the hill to toll the flock out where they will scramble for it and tumble over into that deep water. All they need to do is to swim down to the next shallow place and wade out. The pool may be full of them now, waiting their turn to go. Sheep are polite in deep water; they never rush ahead." "They swim well, too, especially if they happen to fall into the water just before shearing time when their wool is long," Asher said ironically. "What did you say Gretchen Gimpke had in that tin can?" Jacobs inquired blandly. "Oil of sassafras, I think," Asher responded, as he tied the horses and helped to mend the weakened fence. "Nobody prospers long after such tricks. I'll not lose sleep over lost sheep," John Jacobs declared. "Let's hunt up the cattle and forget this, and the woman and the scary little twist in the creek trail."